Chapter 57: The Argument

"Sister-in-law!" Wang Huazhong put down what he was holding onto the truck bed and rushed over to pull Gu Zhu away.

Fortunately, he did, otherwise Gu Zhu would have been dragged off by He Jisheng.

"My foot..." She was sweating profusely from the pain.

The injury on her hand was manageable, but her ankle was twisted, and now it hurt to move even a little.

Wang Zifang realized what was happening and came forward to support her. "Xiao Gu, are you alright?" Her gaze fell on Gu Zhu's hand, and she cried out, "Oh, how—"

"The things weren't taken by me. My fingerprints aren't on them," Yin Lian finished, glancing at the painting in Guo Jiazhong's hand. It had originally belonged to her—a discarded item. Why would she steal it?

This day would mark a historic moment in his life; never before had anyone blocked his contact information.

Every nation has its ruler. Though the emperor stands high above and must listen to his ministers' advice, he still possesses his own standards of judgment. After weighing everything, he decided: the governance, policies, and selections of the Western Xia are internal affairs. As long as they fulfill the terms of the vassal state agreement, that is enough.

"Fifth Young Master, what do you mean by this?" The old Serpent's expression darkened as he stood, locking eyes with the young man addressed as Fifth Young Master.

Recently, after several bouts with Ye Chen, Boruto had made some progress; his fighting style was no longer as clumsy as before and was beginning to take shape.

She had imagined countless scenarios for their reunion, thought of many ways to vent her anger and curse him, considered dramatic exits—throwing her head back and walking away. But when the moment finally arrived, she suddenly became reserved, not daring to do anything, only wanting to ask, "How have you been?"

"Do you know how many Heaven-level cultivators are on Dragon Soul Island right now?" Feng Zhen casually asked Feng Luoyu.

"I'm not used to speaking in a place like this." Blocked outside the door, the CEO Feng Da frowned slightly, a hint of impatience showing on his handsome, indifferent face.

Luckily, she had already planned her escape route. As soon as work ended today, she would take a taxi to the airport. She had bought her ticket online last night.

It was just as he suspected: retrieving the sword was dangerous. He hadn't even warmed the hilt before something strange happened. Truly, he had remarkable foresight.

Tang Long and Li San remained at the scene, which only confused Lu Ailin further. The culprit had been caught—so why were they still here?

That night, the doctors and nurses of the hepatobiliary surgery department went together to Mingzhao Grand Hotel for a welcome dinner for Cheng Lingzhi.

Meanwhile, Xu Ziling employed the Solar Seal from the Nine Character Mantra, coordinating with Kou Zhong to launch a pincer attack on Zhang Liang.

The man was extraordinarily handsome. His black hair was tightly bound, and though his clothing appeared simple, it was actually quite exquisite, radiating nobility.

Luo Qingyi, now alert, quickly released her grip and carefully unfolded his thin garment, discovering many wounds, old and new, all over his body. Most were superficial, but the one on his left chest was grave—the wound was festering and rotten, making it impossible to tell what had caused it.

Early the next morning, the diligent emperor did not attend court, citing the dragon's body as itchy. Illness is common; even the Son of Heaven cannot escape birth, aging, sickness, and death. Yet this time, the emperor's illness sent shockwaves through the court. The imperial physicians were at a loss.

"Lord Xuande, save me!" The inspector, aware he had offended Guan Yu too many times, pleaded with Liu Bei, holding on to a sliver of hope.

Yue Rushan said, "I have some acquaintance with Feng Li, the Sect Leader of the Innate Gate. I heard he died ten days ago at the hands of the Vampire King. It seems Di Yu must be his top disciple. Who would have thought he also had dealings with the Thunder Hall!" He spoke with deep regret over Di Yu's actions.

As for him, Mo Langyue, it seemed he was merely food delivered to the door. Even more absurd, he had been cleaned and prepared in advance, waiting to be consumed.

But among the grand coalition of eighteen warlords, three hundred thousand troops, with camps stretching dozens of miles, how could he possibly find Guan Yu's quarters? And as an enemy general, he could not ask anyone for directions. At this moment, Lü Bu was sweating anxiously, touching the bundle within his heart-shielding mirror—Diaochan's package—and growing even more restless.