Chapter 36: The Bewitching Flute, A Path Through the Deadlock

The flute music played by the figure in white drew nearer, sounding like mournful sobs or the wailing of ten thousand ghosts. Strange patterns began to emerge on the cavern walls, flickering with an eerie green light as if countless eyes were peering down at them. The white-clad figure gradually came into focus; he held a crystalline jade flute and his robes fluttered as if he were an immortal descended from the heavens, yet his eyes were devoid of any warmth, cold as ice.

Even those who did not know Li Xiang could tell that he was a player—a player just like them. Although his wood-element perception ability, "Creation," could not match the hundred-zhang range of the Nangong family’s "Shadowless Locust Emperor" technique, it was more than enough to locate the six disciples of the Chuan Shan Sect.

Could this be related to the bizarre hallucinations from yesterday? Zhan Feihong scratched his head, and after much deliberation, concluded that this was the only possibility. Vaguely remembering the black-glowing, dragon-shaped fetus he had seen within his own torso, he couldn't help but shudder. He had checked himself countless times this morning, but the fetus had vanished without a trace.

"Don't you all feel that something is wrong today?" Manzhu scratched her head and glanced outside once more.

Because their minds had been completely ensnared by the Nine-Demonic Ling’s illusion technique, they were unable to mount any form of resistance. This sectarian conflict was a matter of life and death; if one was not for them, one was an outsider. If they were not destroyed or eliminated, how could the majesty of the Heavenly Dao be upheld?

As a special support ability, "Earth Flame Ring Burst" also possessed fifteen distinct functions for attacking, disrupting, trapping, and obstructing enemies. In terms of sheer power, Ye Feng could easily defeat her now, but if they were to actually fight, he feared he could only muster eighty percent of his strength.

His voice was harsh and his face twisted into a ferocious grin, like an ancient demon reborn in this world. The words he spoke caused the hearts of everyone in the hall to tremble.

"Alright, you all should take a rest as well. It’s strange, where did Song Hu run off to? It’s been so long just to gather some firewood." Xiao Yueda wiped his hands with a cloth, stood up, and walked toward the woods.

Old Chen’s words left my friends, including Chen Jing, with flushed faces. I felt a bit awkward myself, and I couldn't help but glance at my friends, fearing they might be offended by what he had said.

Du Siqi naturally challenged Du Yifei’s move, and amidst the lively banter, we finished three games. I lost all three, but I enjoyed every moment. Although Du Siqi won all three, he complained of a "headache" from Du Yifei’s constant noise.

Ding Zhen’s request had been satisfied, and he was content. However, Lan Yu had deeply offended Alan.

After seeing Ming Jing off, Ming Fan could only stand at the doorway and watch. Seeing Ming Jing weeping as she was supported by Ming Cheng, his heart ached. He longed to rush down and embrace them, to tell them he wasn't leaving, that he wanted to go home—to the Ming Mansion—but was that even possible? There was no going back.

Xue Jiancheng looked at the item Mou Yichen had just handed him. He opened the gift to find a card-style mobile phone inside. He turned it on, and there was only one video file.

Although Master Zhang was a prominent figure in the Black Family, the status he held today was not inherited; he had carved it out with his own body and hands.

At that time, he said nothing. Even when his eldest sister and A-Cheng walked up to him, he remained in a daze, his eyes fixed on Wang Manchun’s unclosed corpse. He felt a pain so deep he was numb, a suffering so intense he could not shed a single tear. Ming Jing called to him, "Ming Lou, let’s go," her voice soft and gentle.

Qing Xuan and Guan Ying seemed to be saving their energy for later; they just sat in their seats eating. Especially Guan Ying—the moment she heard someone else was paying, she nearly moved all the food to their table.

Wang Tianfeng had kept Ming Fan by his side to witness his growth: from the playful, grinning youth he once was to the precise and decisive operative he had become. He was no longer hesitant; he acted with clarity and maintained a cool head. One must endure many trials to grow, and once such growth is achieved, it marks the beginning of one’s finest hour.