Chapter 139: I’ll Keep Beating You Until You’re Satisfied

"I’d really like to see if my dear second sister, with all her supposed virtue, kindness, and refinement, would actually dare to lay a hand on me."

Wen Yueche finished his sentence and looked at Wen Xiujie with a provocative smirk. He knew she wouldn't let this slide, so he goaded her on purpose; either way, he felt he had nothing to lose whether she struck him or not.

"Nonsense! What kind of ridiculous idea are you feeding her? I’m going to teach this brat a lesson right now."

Wen Yiru, naturally, did not agree with Wen Yueqing’s suggestion; he had been wanting to discipline Wen Yueche for quite some time.

"Sir, look at this..."

Bai Yifeng slumped like a deflated balloon, his body sagging back into the sofa. He rubbed his temples with one hand, while the other reached for a cigarette in his pocket. He wanted a smoke more than ever, and no longer caring about Ai Qin’s presence, he simply lit one up.

As the Dragon Sun Heart Scripture circulated and his breathing deepened, Qin Long had just entered a state of meditation when a strange sensation suddenly washed over him.

Han Jinfeng turned to look at him, offering what appeared to be a friendly smile. Yet, as the reporter met his gaze, he felt his body lock up as if frozen in place. Han’s cold, piercing stare held him completely immobile.

Gao Yang retreated as well. I noticed a thin line of blood on his neck; he had been grazed by Lu Cui. Though it was only a scratch, it was dangerously close.

Xiaoming nodded. He had been so busy with the game project lately that he hadn't truly paid attention; he hadn't expected Leticia to have already tamed the familiar beast.

Jiang Liming was clearly taken aback. He lowered his peach-wood sword and frowned at me. Although there were no electric lights, the candlelight was sufficient to see by.

"Damn it, who told you all that? Is that appropriate?" Han Jinfeng suddenly found these words coming from Mo Qianqian’s mouth deeply unpleasant, seemingly forgetting that she had begun tidying the wine glasses he had left on the coffee table.

Just then, my heart gave a sudden jolt. I felt something approaching, though there was no warning of danger. The tremor in my heart jolted me awake, only to find the area surrounded by a pink mist, with something vaguely stirring within it.

I was just wondering why my room had turned so cold when Master Zhang suddenly grabbed me from behind, shaking his head with a grave expression, signaling me not to go inside.

Yang Liu'er gave a firm push, but realizing Qiu Qianjian would not let her go, she changed the position of her hands from his chest to wrapping them around his neck.

Moreover, although the celestial screen had suggested the strategy of having Zhang Yi offer counsel, it had not specified the outcome.

"I can't tell." Shen Changsui breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't know if the people across from him had any connection to the ferry crossing.

According to the customs of the time, all New Year’s gifts were delivered before the festival, so one only needed to pay formal visits once the New Year arrived.

"That counts. Any others? Any strange behavior? Things they wouldn't normally do?" I actually felt a sense of dread looking at all those vengeful spirits standing in the mourning hall.

"However, I am curious—we just arrived in Mingfeng City, so how could the Wu family have known?" Dong Xiaomeng asked, her voice laced with confusion.

Eight ox-carts, loaded to the brim with burlap sacks of peanuts, were heading toward Bai Taotao’s direction.

Chen Yang glanced at them with disdain, landed two more forceful kicks, and then stopped. As he walked over, he scanned the entire visiting delegation with a cold gaze and spoke in a low, stern voice.

With Zhu Yuting and his men on the roof, the best course of action was to block the roof hatch to prevent Leng Jiangtao and the others from descending and causing chaos.

"Yellow Wind Demon, don’t get too arrogant. Do you truly think that you are invincible now? That no one is a match for you?" Zhu Bajie said calmly.

Wu Qiuqiu watched as Lang Yin failed to even brush against the hem of Father Baifeng’s garment, and a sense of profound disdain welled up in her heart.