095 Please Forgive Me

The man frantically threw off the covers, his legs giving way as he dropped to his knees. “Mr. Qu, I truly didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know Qu Wan was your sister. If I’d known, even if you gave me a hundred lives, I wouldn’t have dared to cross her. I’ll go apologize to her right away, I promise it won’t happen again.”

Qu Jin glanced at him indifferently, straightening up and looking down on him from above. “Since you lack the sense to see what’s in front of you, you’d best not go looking for trouble in the future. If you provoke someone you shouldn’t, you couldn’t pay for it with all the heads on your shoulders.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the man nodded repeatedly, the fat on his face trembling, his lips quivering in fear.

Qu Jin’s gaze shifted to his right hand. “Which hand touched my sister last night?”

The man’s terror deepened. “Mr. Qu, I really didn’t—”

It was only natural for Lei Bao to harbor resentment; this was his prey, rightfully his to deal with. Wu Xi’s interference felt like an overstep.

With the grand birthday celebration behind them, it was time for new storms to rise. Zhang Qingyu’s kidnapping of Wang Yun and the attempted ambush were grudges not so easily forgiven. Facing an enemy who would stop at nothing and could strike at any moment, Wang Yan believed that utterly eradicating her was the only solution.

Where moments ago the square had been full of vibrant life, now they were snuffed out in an instant by merciless firebombs. What was meant to be a feast for the masses had turned into their last supper.

He spoke lightly, as if greeting an old friend, but his hands never paused, still busily pulling weeds and feeding them by the handful to the chestnut horse.

So many people, just to fill their stomachs, would exhaust every possible scheme. Those with real ability never worried about their next meal, but most lacked such skill. They too longed for a good meal, but without money, who would feed them for free?

Liang Shicheng’s adopted son had been deeply offended by Wu Xi; that much was fact. Wu Xi would inevitably have to enter Tokyo, the one destined to turn the tide, and already he’d made such a powerful enemy before even arriving. It was hardly an auspicious sign.

He was trembling, his face etched with helplessness and terror, eyes wide and brimming with silent, torrential tears. Her Donglai was a spirited man—dashing, kind, and impossibly warm. How could she bring herself to push him away, how could she bear to see him suffering, weeping so bitterly?

When Li Hongji finally saw the newcomer’s face, instead of calming down, he was even more stunned. On Guan Yu’s smiling, roguish face, he saw no sign of a greater threat.

It was only in recent years that people’s thinking had begun to change, and even then, only slightly—a minority had shifted, while most remained as before. As soon as they heard a girl was involved, discontent would well up inside them. Much of the resistance to changing attitudes stemmed from social pressure.

The music faded, the song ended, but there was no applause, no cheering. The audience seemed entranced, reluctant to wake from their dream, and silence filled the room.

Seeing that Hody Jones still wanted to speak, Gong Feiyu knocked him out before he could utter another word. Without hesitation, he strode into the palace, heading straight for Ariel’s quarters as he remembered them.

By the time Wang Zheng realized something was wrong, it was already too late—had he just pushed Duan Yu off by accident?

“Hey, are you really listening to what Brother Chenyan is saying, Naruto?” Next to her, Sasuko Uchiha had already picked up on something, but with someone as scatterbrained as Naruto Uzumaki, logic was never a safe bet.

When Luocheng found that he could mimic not only every word but even the tone of those people, he once again felt himself returning to reality.

Not to mention, later he had joined forces with Ichigo Kurosaki and the others, struck first to defeat five massive Hollows, and finally resolved the knot that had long troubled his heart.

Within minutes, those who had just been hurling insults at Lin Xinru instantly switched sides, all rushing to apologize.

All of Hanzo’s subordinates charged out; hundreds of rain shinobi attacked Nagato at once. Amidst his enraged roar, Nagato began weaving his jutsu.

On a certain night, under the moonlight, Frie once confided in him—now, Luocheng finally understood what those words meant.

Spring Festival was the golden season for the fishermen of Nantang of the Han-Tang country. The fish were larger, the prices higher. Though the South Shark Archipelago was in disputed waters, it had been the ancestral sea of the Han-Tang nation for two thousand years, with generations fishing there ever since.