Chapter 11: Who Holds the Reins of Business

Su Tang felt a faint throbbing between her brows. This man's figure was strikingly similar to her father-in-law's.

At the top of the stairs, the scholar was momentarily stunned, his voice filled with astonishment, "What are you doing here?"

The man waved the waiting token in his hand, grinning, "I'm here for noodles~"

...

On the second floor, in a private room.

It was simple and unadorned, with no decorations except for intricate patterns woven into the corners. Normally, Scholar Fang would have paused to admire them, but now he had no such leisure.

Six people.

If the golden giant eagle could agree, that would mean the creature already recognized him to a significant degree. With just a bit more effort, he might be able to subdue the golden giant eagle directly.

Seeing the worried look on Xiatou’s face, and recalling the caring words just spoken, the newly awakened Xiatong was taken aback. He had imagined many scenarios for his awakening, but never expected that, upon opening his eyes, the first person he would see was his own father.

Wang Feng and Li Tiancheng exchanged a glance; both found themselves in an awkward situation, caught in a dilemma.

As the large hand reached toward him, Shang Ni would not simply await his doom. The celestial manifestation of heaven and earth descended with a thunderous roar; scenes from the past reappeared within the vision, and powers of celestial vision, demonic sight, and heart force converged into a terrifying torrent of light. He unleashed his most powerful attack, daring not to be careless in the face of a Three-Tribulation master—his first move was his strongest.

Had Red, Purple, and Blue given the Golden Armored Wolf even a moment, it could have chosen self-destruction and taken them down with it. Yet, as if knowing its intent, Red, Purple, and Blue pressed the attack relentlessly, leaving the Golden Armored Wolf no chance at all.

Lady of the Sword and Lan Xuan, one nominally the ancestral immortal of the Vast Ancient Heavenly Sect, the other the Great Emperor of Buzhou, were naturally unsuited to appear in such a situation.

At that moment, many inner sect disciples around the arena already wore dazed expressions, wishing they could become Su Ye and approach Fairy Moyun more closely.

A burst of the Gatling gun's distinctive rattle echoed; swathes of Rana family soldiers were mowed down, the survivors fleeing in terror. These were British troops wielding American-imported Gatling guns; though not as advanced as the improved Imperial models, they were still formidable weapons of slaughter.

Then, under their leader’s guidance, Qin Nan, Zhu Kexin, and Zhu Yuxing went straight to a private office.

His expression had grown ferocious, eyes bloodshot, his body trembling violently like a bloodthirsty beast on the verge of losing control.

This was a father’s choice—not to prevent, but to encourage and comfort. My heart was warmed.

“Yes,” came the reply from Datong. Of all the blades and hidden weapons in the world, there was none whose origin he could not discern.

Moreover, he could not fully guarantee Chen Xue’s safety. He could only do his utmost to protect her. The inspection team was riddled with danger, and many harbored ulterior motives. Though their current environment was secure, threats lurked in the shadows, well beyond their perception. All they could do was guard themselves as best they could.

“All right, get out,” Lu Yan said. This time, he wore only a pair of sunglasses; his angular face was all sternness.

Six streams of Buddhist energy shot straight at Yan Da, but he merely sneered, his chest taking the full force without the slightest injury.

“The situation in the game changes almost daily. No one can say what the future holds. It’s best to focus on getting through this stage first,” Long Sifeng said.

Draining his cup of rice wine, Yue Wuyá left a few broken pieces of silver on the table and stood to depart. With a plan in mind, his direction was clear. Not a moment could be wasted.

As the words faded, Lu Wuchen performed the Lingbo Microstep, his figure twisting oddly as he appeared before a thug. Without warning, he slapped the poor fellow, who hadn’t expected Lu Wuchen’s ferocity—his head snapped aside, several teeth flew out, and he staggered backward, reeling from the blow.