Chapter 78: Tonight, I’ll Stay With You

However, her ability to explain herself seemed rather poor. She looked guilty and nervous, very much like a villain in a television drama who has just been exposed. This particular question clearly struck a nerve among many of the Soul Reapers, and even Genryusai Yamamoto was no exception. The newcomer was tightly wrapped from head to toe, and after announcing their name, the guard at the gate frowned slightly, reported the arrival, and only then led the visitor through the main entrance.

A scout spotted the pirates trailing behind Doflamingo and immediately realized what was happening, shouting loudly. People are strange creatures—when they see someone even more pitiful than themselves, they can't help but feel sympathy, and it's easier to forgive someone who once hurt them if that person is now far more wretched. The old man was utterly defeated, his wrinkled face frozen in an embarrassed grimace, causing Zhan Pei and the others watching nearby to burst into laughter.

After a busy day, Lin Feng and Annie finally finished all their tasks. At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Could it be that the New World is filled with such monsters? Is the gap between me and him really so vast? If everyone there is a monster like this, what's the point of heading to the Grand Line—wouldn't that just be courting death?

He made use of constant movement, choosing locations wisely, seizing positions in advance to drive away others and claim the territory, or sometimes waiting until someone else had driven enemies away before launching a sneak attack himself.

“Haha, you’re an idiot too! How could you make such a big move when you’re already injured?” Chopper immediately retorted.

“Brother, come inside so we can talk,” Su Huai said with a smile, stepping aside to let Shen Feng in.

“Let’s go, boys!” the leader sneered, and as soon as he finished speaking, the henchmen around him charged forward.

Lin Feng held the token in his hand, looking at Chen Dongqing and the other two. He didn’t know which of them to give the token to—both Liao Yu and Yuan En had chosen to fight by his side when things were at their most difficult, but Chen Dongqing’s talent was clearly superior to the other two.

Dongzi’s eyes flashed coldly. This old man’s illusions were truly formidable. If he didn’t take advantage of the injury now and kill him, the old man would recover and come back even stronger, making things even harder. This was a rare opportunity, one he couldn’t let slip by. He would give it his all, no matter the cost.

“Even though you didn’t say it outright, I could tell. Still, I owe you for this,” Lin Feng replied. Perhaps it was because they valued his potential.

“Have you heard the legend of the Pale-faced Man who weeps at night?” asked the ghost attached to Wei Chixue.

“There’s no need to say anything…” Qingqing’s eyes, ethereal and beautiful, gazed softly at Xintian, as if she could read his very thoughts.

There were three stone chambers, each with a door but no window. The doors stood open, and inside there was little save for a stone table, a stone stool, and a few peach pits scattered on the ground.

“Looks like someone got here before us!” Lai Changyi remarked, glancing at the ancient corpses as he descended.

Their patience was finally rewarded—after waiting a while, the high school student actually ventured into the depths of the mountain alone.

But as soon as the two approached Wei Renwu, they clamped their noses shut. The smell of alcohol on him was overpowering.

I shoved his phone back into his hand without trying to reclaim mine. I never had the habit of leaving messages, so there was nothing secret in there for him to find.

“Long Shaoyan, come here.” After everything was done, Helan Yao lay down on the bed, still fully clothed—she was utterly exhausted.

“Why did you request permission to enter the Cold Palace?” Mao Leyan questioned, clearly displeased by Consort Mei, who was holding a broom.

“There’s no such thing as getting used to it or not. Life is the same no matter where you are,” Mao Leyan answered quietly.

Long Shaoyan and Helan Yao had their backs to Ning Ruxi, so they didn’t see her secretly open her eyes in her sleep, staring at the two of them in each other’s arms. Her eyes grew wider and wider, and finally, blinking hard, she squeezed her eyes shut again as if she never wanted to open them.

At such close range, the pressure was overwhelming. She reached out to push against the man’s chest, but it felt as if she had touched a red-hot potato—impossible to shake off. She turned her face away, blushing furiously.

“I’m not against it. Even if I don’t have the right to vote, I still have the right to express my opinion,” George Dewey said to Li Mu. There was no need for pretense between them—they’d been in the trenches together.

“Partly,” Li Xin replied. Ning Ruxi’s prophecy had helped him resolve many thorny issues.

Shen Yi burst into tears, flinging herself onto the bed and burying her head under the covers, sobbing uncontrollably. She wasn’t crying out of anger, but because she was afraid that Yue Ming might really die; she could already sense that this time, he was going back to risk his life.

She agreed without hesitation because she was worried about him. She found herself a noble-sounding excuse in order to convince herself she hadn’t lost her reason.

Xiao Xiner felt a twinge of guilt as she met Rong Yuanshan’s trusting gaze. He trusted her so completely, yet she was secretly helping his enemy escape. But she had no choice—she had made that promise long ago.

Her body kept inching backward, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the ominous black spot, as big as a platter.

Since Sun Gulan entered the upper realm, she had traveled alone with the solitary sword cultivator Ye Qingya, searching for Song Hezhen’s whereabouts.

Qiao Wei couldn’t help but want to laugh—just now, Taiyang Yanyan had tried so hard to get his attention, and he hadn’t even noticed?

In such circumstances, no amount of explanation would help her. After all, to explain is merely to conceal—too many words only lead to tears.