Chapter 90: Seeking Justice for the Dead

As soon as Qi Zhiyuan asked the nurse at the front desk, he rushed straight toward that room. Fang Wenxuan and Lin Hui hurried after him. When they reached the doorway of Qi Zhihai’s ward, they ran into Cheng Fei, who was already standing there. Cheng Fei stopped Qi Zhiyuan, who had come hurrying over in great agitation, and sized him up from head to toe before saying, “You’re Qi Zhiyuan?”

“Who are you?” Qi Zhiyuan broke free of Cheng Fei’s grip with force.

“Captain, he is Qi Zhiyuan,” Fang Wenxuan said as he walked over and looked at Cheng Fei.

“Then go in,” Cheng Fei said, letting go.

Seeing that Cheng Fei still looked uneasy, Fang Wenxuan said, “Captain, this boy may not seem very reliable, but he does care about him very much.”

Usually that would be nothing much, but in a situation like this, it could easily become the last straw that broke the camel’s back.

The two walked along the quiet street, with the occasional hurried passerby on their way home from work. In the tightly packed houses lining both sides of the road, warm orange lights glowed, and a faint aroma of food drifted from the windows.

Ahem, it seemed not everyone shared Han Leyi’s way of thinking—that winning meant keeping a beautiful young model, and losing meant going to work in the underworld.

After Red Gun exchanged a few more pleasantries with Yu Jianqiang, the doors to the luxurious private room were opened.

When the door opened, Ning Shuangshuang came in and saw Chen Yi lying in bed reading the newspaper. It was already eleven fifty. She had brought him food from the cafeteria, knowing his stomach must be growling.

“If anyone dares to harbor wicked intentions toward this old man’s disciple, then don’t blame me for being rude,” said Master Mu with a sharp lift of his brows. A cruel look surfaced on his aged face, and a powerful ripple faintly spread through the air.

So Zhang San took a laissez-faire attitude toward the matter. This year the Yellow River burst its banks and flooded Yue Fei’s hometown; his parents would take him wandering from place to place. If he had the chance to meet Zhou Tong, then he could learn martial arts. If he had no such chance, then he would simply be unlucky.

Not far away, seeing that the punch he had unleashed had shattered the enemy’s attack, Hao Yu let out a soft breath. When he saw that enemy stop moving, his eyes flickered. After a moment’s thought, he drew a deep breath, fixed his gaze on the Earth Walker, took one step forward, and chose to hurl himself at this powerful foe.

Long Aoting wore a fresh ponytail tied behind her head, her glossy black hair shining like ink. Her brows were like willow clouds, her nose high and straight, her cherry lips full and red.

Early in the morning, after morning self-study, the homeroom teacher, Teacher He, posted the total scores for each subject and the class rankings beside the blackboard at the front of the classroom.

As Ye Yongchun spoke, she turned her head and continued facing away from Ye Shanghan. Yet for some reason, the words he had carelessly said, “I don’t like you,” kept echoing in her mind. The more she thought about it, the more disheartened she felt. In the end, she simply put on her sunglasses in a huff and leaned back in her seat to sleep.

When in school, Mulian could endure Wang Yinxiang’s arrogance. But now that even her second brother had been insulted, how could she still bear it?

This young man had many secrets, and no great joy or sorrow ever showed on his face. Even when he was always smiling, the smile was tightly restrained. She knew that a person like this must once have suffered immense pain in order to treat the world this way.

Well then, there was no point arguing with someone so stubborn. Whatever you are, just tell me the rules clearly, won’t you? Thinking of this, I no longer bothered with Luo Quan’s earnest fussing. I simply pricked up my ears and skipped over his long, respectful speech, going straight to the point to hear the rules of that grand competition held once every two years.

Seeing the man walking toward him, he recognized him at a glance. The man was called Chen Fangli, nicknamed “Young Master Li,” a very famous singer with tens of millions of fans.

Wang Ling picked up Tang Lishang, who buried her face aggrievedly against his shoulder. “Wuwu, Master,” she sobbed. “They bullied me.”

To make sure Wang Ling stayed within the range of her forbidden spell, Ziyan would come by every so often to check on them and confirm that they were all still there.

It was said to be high in the sky, but in truth that height was only relative to the ground; compared with where Bingxian stood now, it was probably much lower.