Sun Dilong was on the verge of collapse standing in front of Bao Gu.
He had turned over every account book from the past several hundred years to her, and Bao Gu had done nothing else—just sat there reading them. One by one.
Five hundred years’ worth of ledgers!
Was the Lord really planning to go through every single entry?
The message jades in his storage ring were flickering and trembling without pause. Some pulsed anxiously for a while, then fell silent for good. Some lit up at intervals. Some wouldn’t stop vibrating at all. He could easily imagine how desperately the senders wanted to get in touch with him, but he didn’t dare respond to any of them.
He just stood there like an obedient criminal awaiting sentence, heart pounding with dread upon dread, suffering a kind of torment he had never known before.
Time had never crawled so slowly.
As every moment dragged by, his fear only grew. Especially when all those message jades, as if they’d agreed on it beforehand, suddenly jumped and flared together—and then, one after another, went dead quiet and returned to stillness.
Sun Dilong’s mood did not improve because of this.
On the contrary, terror spiked to the extreme. He collapsed forward onto his knees in front of Bao Gu, prostrated, and started smashing his forehead against the floor as he sobbed:
“Lord, this subordinate deserves death! I should never have grown greedy and tried to build my own power. I should never have hollowed out the Enforcement Envoy’s authority…”
He no longer dared harbor the slightest scrap of wishful thinking or concealment, and spilled every last bit of his scheming.
“Even if Your Lordship lent this subordinate ten thousand guts, I still wouldn’t dare harbor a traitor’s heart. While Lord was absent, the Enforcement Envoy did not like to manage affairs, so this subordinate thought to push down Wang Ding and the Mad Demon, and someday make myself the one just below a single person and above ten thousand, worship the Enforcement Envoy like a great Buddha, and that way not fail Your Lordship’s cultivation of me. It was this subordinate who was muddle‑headed, this subordinate who should die. I beg Lord to pardon my crime, to spare this small one’s life. I would never dare have the slightest disloyal thought toward Lord…”
After more than five hundred years of ledgers, Bao Gu had nearly forgotten there was still a Sun Dilong planted beside her. Only when she heard his tear‑choked wailing did she notice he was sprawled on the floor, his fat body practically limp with fright.
Scared like this?
“Get up,” she said mildly.
The accounts of Earth Dragon Fort had no real problems. Every entry was clear. The detailed books and the general ledgers she’d checked all matched up. If Sun Dilong had done anything wrong, it was that after she left, he’d treated Earth Dragon Fort as his own personal domain—aside from paying lip service to Yu Mi as his superior on the surface.
But because he feared her too deeply, now that he’d sensed the slightest hint of danger, he’d immediately handed everything back again.
If she let him keep scaring himself like this, he really would collapse—and she still needed to use him.
“What time is it?” she asked.
Sun Dilong forced his weak legs to push him upright. He didn’t even dare lift his head.
“Lord, you have been reading ledgers for two days in a row. It is now sunset.”
Bao Gu glanced at the sky and said, “Go down and rest.”
She called in one of the maids standing in the side hall to lead Sun Dilong away.
To him, it was like a royal amnesty.
“Thank you, Lord, for sparing my life. Thank you, Lord, for sparing my life…”
He muttered the phrase over and over, never daring even to turn his back, retreating step by step out of the doors. Only once outside did he finally wipe his sweat and stagger away.
Bao Gu was a bit speechless.
Am I really that terrifying?
She put away the Earth Dragon Fort ledgers and rose, walking out along the covered corridor, letting her feet move while her mind turned over business.
Yu Mi had taken the army out; Bao Gu wasn’t worried and didn’t plan to interfere. Yu Mi understood the current state of the cultivation world and the Kan Gang far better than she did. If Bao Gu, clueless about the bigger picture, started pointing fingers at random, it would only make things worse. Even if Yu Mi truly made a mistake, Bao Gu was behind her to clean it up.
With her current abilities, even if Yu Mi punched a hole in the heavens, Bao Gu was confident she could find a way to patch it.
She followed the covered walkway out of her residential palace, did not head toward the main hall, but passed through a long palace passageway and circled around to the flower garden. There, she sat down in the waterside pavilion by the lake.
The evening sun glowed on the lake. A breeze ruffled the surface into rippling gold and silver, beautiful to behold.
All of a sudden, a figure stepped onto the lake, running lightly over the waves, startling a flock of white egrets into the air.
She focused, and saw it was Bao Nianhui. Wind gathered beneath the girl’s feet, water gathered under her steps as she practiced light‑body movement on the surface of the lake.
So young, yet already able to control both wind and water techniques at once. She was far stronger than Bao Gu had been at that age.
Bao Nianhui suddenly noticed that her nominal personal master was sitting in the nearby pavilion watching her.
The shock made her lose focus. Her circulation slipped, she flailed to recover, and only managed an “Ah—!” before crashing into the water with a loud splash.
She rolled underwater, then shot forward like a sleek little fish, swimming straight toward the pavilion. Reaching the shore, she flipped out with a clean carp leap and landed steadily on the bank.
She flicked her wet hair back, bowed, and saluted Bao Gu.
“Disciple greets Master.”
Bao Gu noticed that while the girl’s hair was dripping, her clothes were completely dry. A quick scan over her revealed that from head to toe, every article on the girl’s body was a magic treasure personally refined by Bao Gu’s Little Martial Grand‑Aunt. Every single one of them was at Void Tearing stage grade.
A first‑layer Foundation Establishment cultivator… wearing a full set of Void Tearing stage treasures.
And she dared walk around outside like that and not fear being robbed?
Bao Nianhui saw Bao Gu staring and not saying “At ease,” and curiously snuck a look back at her master.
Bao Gu lifted her hand a little, then pointed at the bench beside her.
“Sit.”
She asked, “Why did your Little Martial Grand‑Aunt outfit you like this?”
Bao Nianhui answered solemnly, “She said that as your disciple, if I dressed too shabbily, it’d embarrass you when I went out. So I had to wear something that would let me walk sideways wherever I went. She said you…”
She suddenly realized that last part might not be very respectful, quickly swallowed the words, and pressed her lips together in a smile, trying to gloss it over.
“What did she say about me?” Bao Gu asked.
Bao Nianhui kept smiling, all flattery.
Seeing that expression, Bao Gu knew it couldn’t be anything nice. Thinking of her Little Martial Grand‑Aunt’s temperament—praising people with words that sounded like scolding—she dropped the matter.
“How is your cultivation progressing?” she asked.
The moment Bao Nianhui heard that her master was asking about her homework, she reflexively glanced around. Not seeing that senior sister whose name she could never remember—something like Gong or Cymbal, and whose brain was clearly not quite right—she relaxed and confessed:
“Not very good. Master, you know I’m a five‑spirit‑root. Little Martial Grand‑Aunt says I’m a dog‑gnawed five‑spirit‑root, so I cultivate especially slowly…”
The more she spoke, the more guilty she felt. Her neck shrank, like she wanted to pull her head into her shoulders, and she peeked nervously up at Bao Gu.
From what she’d heard, this nominal personal master of hers was also a five‑spirit‑root, but a very rare perfectly even five‑spirit‑root.
“Dog‑gnawed?” Bao Gu repeated, stunned.
“Uneven, like something a dog chewed on,” Bao Nianhui explained.
She held up her little finger as a measure.
“My earth root is only this tiny bit… But Granny Demon Saint used pills to adjust my constitution, so my earth root has grown a little more now.”
Bao Gu nodded. “You’re cultivating a five‑element technique?”
“Yes!”
Nianhui brightened. “But in the Xuantian Sect, apparently only you and one Patriarch Xuan Yue cultivated five‑element laws. With you and Patriarch Xuan Yue both gone, when I don’t understand something in the techniques, I can only fumble around by myself.”
As she spoke, she sneaked a look at Bao Gu.
Bao Gu understood perfectly what the girl meant.
She’d finally “caught” this nominal master of hers, and they walked the same cultivation path. Of course she had to seize the chance to ask every question she had.
So Bao Gu began pointing out issues in her cultivation.
Back then, when she herself had cultivated, she’d had no master to guide her and no complete technique. She’d crossed the river by feeling for stones, groping forward blindly, until she met Xuan Yue and finally completed her technique.
If not for that wisp of lingering consciousness from the Xuantian Patriarch that had guarded her, she would’ve died eight hundred times along the way.
Bao Nianhui was not nearly as impatient as she had been. The girl had Yu Mi, Zi Yunshu, the Demon Saint and the others personally teaching her. Her foundation was solid. With massive amounts of spiritual treasures and rare herbs piled under her, she had only just reached Foundation Establishment first layer, slow but extremely steady—and she was clever.
Whenever she hit something she didn’t understand, Bao Gu only needed to lightly nudge her, say two or three lines, and the girl immediately understood.
Seeing that Nianhui had not gone astray on the cultivation side, Bao Gu had her show her swordsmanship, wanting to see how her senior sister had taught her.
That was when she discovered: her senior sister was terrifying with a sword, but the “disciple” she’d taught in sword arts was somewhat disappointing.
The girl’s moves were very familiar. At a glance they dazzled the eyes and looked impressive, but to Bao Gu they were just too flowery, riddled with openings.
There was a hint of her senior sister’s style—the thousand changes and ten thousand flowers, illusion and reality intertwined, killing always when least expected. But Bao Nianhui had only learned the superficial flourish, not the core.
And this little girl seemed to resemble Bao Gu in one way—clumsy hands.
Bao Nianhui finished a full set of sword forms, sheathed her sword, straightened, and looked at Bao Gu with bright, hopeful eyes.
“Master, please instruct me.”
“To defeat an enemy, one strike is enough,” Bao Gu said.
“You are five‑spirit‑root. Your sword art should bring out the advantage of those five roots…”
She carefully explained to Nianhui the insights she’d gained from her own years of training with the sword.
Bao Nianhui listened, entranced. When her legs went numb from standing, she simply plopped down on the floor to sit.
Her Martial Uncle said that to cultivate the sword, one had to cultivate the sword‑realm, to understand why one practiced the sword before practicing the sword itself.
Her master, however, said that the sword had never had any fixed sets of forms. It changed with the opponent, used the situation to control the enemy. When learning the sword, mastering basic moves was enough.
Bao Nianhui didn’t quite understand and asked to spar.
Then she discovered—her master bullied people!
When sparring with her, her Martial Uncle always walked a few moves with her, feeding her openings.
Her master, her personal master, only ever put one sword to her throat. Or to her forehead. Or point‑first over her heart.
One strike. She said “one strike,” and she meant one strike. She would never need a second or third.
The moment Nianhui thrust, her master’s blade would float gently into a vital point, making it impossible to actually exchange moves.
Nianhui puffed up her cheeks.
“Master, I’m still a kid. Can’t you go a little easier on me?”
“To defeat an enemy, one strike is enough,” Bao Gu replied.
“…”
Nianhui was speechless.
“If your opponent wants to kill you,” Bao Gu asked, “will they care that you’re young or that you haven’t finished your full set of fancy sword moves?”
Nianhui thought about that, then asked, “Then how am I supposed to practice?”
“When you are not certain you can win with a single blow, do not rush to attack,” Bao Gu said.
“Defend. Wait until you see the moment clearly, then strike once and end it. They say the best defense is a good offense, but when you attack is also when your defense is at its weakest, when you’re easiest to hit…”
She patiently explained, again and again, occasionally crossing swords with Nianhui to demonstrate.
Nianhui discovered that while her master and Martial Uncle were senior‑junior sisters, their paths in both cultivation techniques and sword arts were totally different.
Her Martial Uncle’s swordsmanship emphasized subtlety and ruthless precision.
Her master’s swordsmanship was—simple and domineering.
In her master’s own words: “The great Dao is simple.” “To defeat the enemy, one strike is enough.”
Oh, that was so cool.
If she could use one sword stroke at the monthly assessment to jab all those junior nephews, grand‑nephews, and great‑grand‑nephews off the stage, that would be so satisfying. She really was her true master. Her real master.
Seeing that Bao Gu was cold‑faced but clearly not cold‑hearted and was at least patient with her, Nianhui immediately looped her arms around Bao Gu’s and wheedled.
“Master, teach me one move first—just one sword that can win in the monthly assessment. I’m your disciple, after all. I can’t keep…”
“How?” Bao Gu prompted.
Nianhui shrank her neck.
“Have zero win rate against peers.”
“…”
If not for the way the girl’s neck had already turtled down into her shoulders, Bao Gu would really have asked aloud:
“Do you feel worthy of a so‑called ‘invincible among peers’ five‑spirit‑root talent?”
Then she remembered—she’d never taught this disciple a single thing. The girl was, as she said, still young.
So it wasn’t really Nianhui’s fault.
Right then and there, Bao Gu decided to teach this disciple properly. A personal disciple with no wins among her own realm—that was a slap in the face.
She ignored how Nianhui had learned before and just broke down the essence she’d distilled from years of sparring with the corpse general Ba, grinding it into pieces and teaching from the ground up—one move, one step, one sword at a time.
Nianhui studied with absolute seriousness. Only when Bao Gu guided her bit by bit did she realize: her master’s “one strike to end the enemy” wasn’t wrong at all—but before teaching her how to end an enemy in one blow, Master was teaching her how to defend and stay alive.
Nianhui had no complaints. On the contrary, she was even more earnest.
Her master had already shown her with the sword: no matter how superbly you thrust, if someone puts a blade to your neck first, what are you going to jump around for?
Without noticing it, night fell. Then dawn came again.
When Bao Gu saw that the hour was getting late and remembered that she had to summon all Kan Gang personnel of hall‑master rank and above today, she said to Nianhui:
“Practice well on your own. If there’s anything you don’t understand, come and ask me.”
After a moment of hesitation, Nianhui asked, “Master, where’s Senior Sister Gong?”
“Senior Sister Luo? Which Senior Sister Luo?” Bao Gu thought for a while and truly couldn’t recall any such person in Nianhui’s generation that she knew of.
Nianhui said, “My senior sister—the personal eldest disciple under you. Oh, Cymbal. Senior Sister Cymbal, not Gong.”
She scratched her chin, a little embarrassed.
“I remembered wrong. Where did she go?”
Bao Gu noticed the chin‑scratching gesture and thought it looked very much like Duobao Spirit Monkey, so she gave her a couple of extra looks.
“Your senior sister’s name is Qingying,” she said. “She went to the Demon Domain.”
Nianhui froze.
“The Demon Domain? I heard all the truly monstrous great demons of this world live in the Demon Domain. If you don’t have strength like Martial Uncle’s, going there is mostly a one‑way trip. Senior Sister… She actually dared to go? Isn’t that dangerous? Will she be all right?”
“Worried about her?” Bao Gu asked.
“She is my personal senior sister, after all,” Nianhui said. “She may be a bit annoying, but she doesn’t seem like a bad person. And I wanted to discuss something with her.”
“What is it?” Bao Gu asked.
“A while ago, Little Monkey sent me a bunch more rare spirit herbs and medicines,” Nianhui said.
“My little herb garden in the Xuantian Sect is already full. Yesterday I filled up the courtyard at the Enforcement Envoy’s residence as well, but I still have some left with nowhere to plant them. If I just leave them in jade boxes they won’t grow, so I wanted to find somewhere to put them. Senior Sister’s yard looked nice and empty, with nothing planted in it, so I thought I’d plant them there.”
“Go find a steward and have him expand your courtyard,” Bao Gu said.
“Or have him open a dedicated herb garden for you inside the Enforcement Envoy’s residence. If you plant those spirit treasures and rare herbs in your senior sister’s courtyard, I worry you’ll be throwing meat buns at a dog.”
Nianhui’s face went stiff.
“As her junior, she can’t seriously stoop to stealing my herbs, right?”
“She can,” Bao Gu said evenly.
“…”
“Go find the steward,” Bao Gu said.
Then she turned and went straight back to the main hall of the Enforcement Envoy’s residence.
The moment she stepped into the Enforcement Hall, she lifted her eyes for a sweep.
Wang Ding and Sun Dilong were already standing inside, one to each side of the center aisle, but the numbers in the hall were wrong.
She walked up the steps to the main seat and sat. Below the dais, the people divided to stand on left and right, bowing respectfully.
The main hall was enormous, its scale no less than the Golden Throne Hall she’d once seen in the imperial palace of her old Yue Kingdom. She’d thought it would be packed full. Instead, it looked a little empty.
Many of those who should have come today had not, and the faces that were here were all shadowed with fear and uncertainty.
Bao Gu’s cool voice echoed through the hall.
“Who hasn’t come? Why not?”
Sun Dilong shuddered. His knees trembled as he knelt.
“Reporting to Lord, everyone from Earth Dragon Fort who could come is here. Those who did not… have all been imprisoned or executed by the Enforcement Envoy.”
Seeing Sun Dilong kneel there like a terrified grandson, Wang Ding naturally couldn’t stay standing. He hitched up his robes and knelt too.
“Reporting to Lord,” he said in a sonorous tone, “over half of the officials from each division have been seized by the Enforcement Envoy, who led the Gold‑armored Guard against them. As for the Right Battalion Guard… one would have to ask the Right Envoy. The Right Envoy has yet to arrive. I do not know the reason…”
Bao Gu frowned slightly.
“Normally your channels are all extremely well‑informed,” she said. “The Right Envoy is absent today and none of you have heard anything?”
No one dared answer. Every head stayed bowed.
In the past two days, the Enforcement Envoy had suddenly marched out with the Gold‑armored Guard in full Da Luo crimson‑gold armor, with warships forged of the same precious metal, arresting people everywhere and throwing the whole organization into panic.
Everyone was too busy worrying about their own fates to spare attention for other places.
Seeing nobody speak, Bao Gu turned her gaze toward the people in Ghost Shadow Pavilion uniforms. She’d been planning to ask their pavilion master why the Mad Demon wasn’t here.
One glance was enough to see that the pavilion master himself was absent—and then she remembered, he was one of the Mad Demon’s people.
She raised her eyes and swept the hall again, this time not looking at faces or clothing, but at the waist tokens. After all these years away, personnel in the Kan Gang had shifted heavily. She couldn’t recognize many faces at all, so she could only judge allegiance by the tokens.
What she found was that nearly all those she’d mentally tagged as belonging to the Mad Demon were absent.
And many of those people had not been on Yu Mi’s arrest list.
If Mad Demon and his people were missing but not captured by Yu Mi, that meant something else had happened.
The three envoys had each been moving secretly for years, and after the fuss Yu Mi had just kicked up, Mad Demon was bound to be feeling guilty. But to not come and confess today—to simply not show up, to hide?
The cultivation world was only so big. Where could he hide?
Rebel?
She was personally sitting in Qingzhou, with the Qingzhou Grand Formation at her command, and she held both Wang Ding and Sun Dilong’s forces in hand. Even if Mad Demon wanted to rebel, he didn’t have the strength to stand against her.
No place to hide, no strength to rebel, yet he didn’t send anyone and didn’t appear. What on earth was he playing at?
Even Bao Gu felt a little baffled.
She turned her gaze back to the Ghost Shadow Pavilion people.
“All intelligence has always been handled by Ghost Shadow Pavilion,” she said. “Who can tell me what happened on Mad Demon’s side?”
Half of the pavilion’s hall‑master‑rank and above people were also missing. The half who had come were just as confused as anyone.
One deputy hall master stepped out and bowed.
“Reporting to Lord, something must have happened with the Right Envoy. All the Ghost Shadow Pavilion men responsible for the Right Envoy’s territories are also absent.”
He bowed again.
“Subordinate requests the order to take men and investigate.”
“No need,” Bao Gu said. “He won’t be able to make any big waves.”
Everyone in the hall was stunned.
The Right Envoy commanded eight hundred thousand troops—by far the strongest of the three envoys—and yet the Lord thought he “couldn’t make big waves”? Where did this confidence come from?
Bao Gu herself was a little worried that Mad Demon might go all‑in and lead his army to seize Yu Mi, so she took out a message jade and contacted Yu Mi first. Upon confirming Yu Mi’s safety, she warned her to be wary of Mad Demon.
She then used another jade to try reaching Mad Demon.
There was no response.
At that, everyone was sure Mad Demon must have already rebelled. They just didn’t know where he and his men—and his army—had gone.
Whispers in hearts wondered whether Mad Demon might attack Qingzhou, or seize some other territory as a base to confront the Lord.
Sun Dilong was quietly wiping sweat, only feeling that Mad Demon was courting death.
Wang Ding kept his head extremely low and said nothing. He had to admit Mad Demon’s courage was impressive—but at the same time, throwing everything into this was foolish.
A real man bent and stretched. Even if one lost authority now, as long as one could remain near the Lord, past merits would still count. The Lord would remember old ties. Even if one were demoted to a minor official, it was still a path of cultivation. If one truly ascended to immortality someday, if the Lord constructed a boundary‑breaking gate… what was the power of this tiny world worth then?
Yet he also knew Mad Demon wasn’t a fool. How could he do something so suicidal?
The more he thought, the more confused he became.
Bao Gu, on the other hand, had official business to announce. She could not, at this moment when all Kan Gang hearts were already uneasy, let Mad Demon’s side issue disturb her rhythm and arrangements.
If she visibly panicked over Mad Demon’s possible rebellion, everyone would only grow more frantic. And then, who knew how many would follow him into chaos?
The situation was not yet clear. Stabilizing this side and finishing what needed to be discussed was more important.
As for Mad Demon, leaving him alone for half a day or a full day wouldn’t let anything too disastrous happen.
She didn’t believe he would dare march straight to her front door. If he did, that would save her effort.
“Set Mad Demon aside for now,” she said.
Her tone shifted.
“I’ve been gone from this world for over five hundred years. The Kan Gang has undergone major personnel changes. Today, I meet you all to put faces to names.”
She took out a register and began matching names to people one by one. Those whose names were on the list but who hadn’t come, she circled and marked—whether they’d been taken or killed by Yu Mi, or had “no reason” not to appear.
Once she’d finished cross‑checking, she called:
“Wang Ding, Sun Dilong. Step forward.”
They hurried out from their rows, bowed with fists cupped.
“I’m rebuilding the boundary‑breaking gate,” Bao Gu said. “Preparations begin now. Security and defense I’ll entrust entirely to Yu Mi and Qingying. Wang Ding, I’m assigning you to recruit and organize construction artisans. Any issues?”
Ecstatic, Wang Ding dropped to one knee.
“No problem.”
“Don’t rush to say there’s no problem,” Bao Gu said calmly. “Your head is still hanging by a thread. I’ll keep this task on record for now. If you’re still alive after the three‑day deadline, you can begin recruiting artisans.”
Cold sweat poured down his back.
He knocked his forehead hard against the floor.
“Lord, this subordinate… I admit I have been greedy. But I… I would never dare empty the main treasury. These… these expenditures truly were accounted for… I beg Lord to investigate clearly…”
Bao Gu stared down at him, eyes cold.
Feeling the pressure weighing down from above, Wang Ding didn’t dare say another word. He could only keep kowtowing.
The hall was utterly silent.
Everyone was secretly watching Wang Ding while stealing glances at Bao Gu, and then at Sun Dilong, who was still shivering where he knelt.
Some people were thinking: of the three envoys, Mad Demon has already rebelled. The Lord has to keep at least two, right?
Others thought: she just gave the Left Envoy a task—she has to keep him. This is just a warning.
After a long time, Bao Gu’s icy voice sounded.
“In these years, how much have you embezzled from the Kan Gang? Submit a detailed list yourself.”
Wang Ding wiped another streak of sweat from his forehead, then pulled a jade slip from his sleeve and presented it with both hands.
“This is the account of my income over these years,” he said, voice shaking. “Please examine it, Lord. In the past few days, I have sold off my private property to fill the shortfall. Some… some profits gained by abusing my position… I have also turned over into the main treasury…”
Bao Gu swept the jade slip with her spiritual sense. Her expression didn’t change as she looked back down at Wang Ding.
He then handed over his military command tokens, his seals of authority, even the Left Envoy token itself. All his house deeds, land deeds, and assets had been organized into a ledger and boxed, carried into the hall. As for the treasures in his private vault, those had already been shipped into the main treasury beforehand.
If Bao Gu accepted all this, Wang Ding would be left with nothing.
She returned the Left Envoy token and the deed to the Left Envoy residence to him, and also gave back half of the territories she’d originally assigned to him. Everything else was confiscated.
Wang Ding let out a long breath of relief and kowtowed deeply.
“Thank you, Lord!”
Bao Gu waved her hand, sending him back to his place.
Then she said to Sun Dilong, “Sun Dilong, constructing a boundary‑breaking gate will require immense financial resources. Can you handle that?”
Sun Dilong bowed low.
“This small one will do everything in his power to accomplish it.”
Bao Gu nodded.
“In a few days there will be personnel changes in each division…”
Her words cut off midway.
From far off above the heavens came a thunderous boom. The defensive power of the Qingzhou Grand Formation flared with a roar. At the same time, the whole earth trembled.
Fortunately, everyone in the hall was fairly strong and wasn’t much affected, but their faces all changed—shocked, alarmed.
Many people were thinking the same thing:
Could Mad Demon really have rebelled and attacked Qingzhou?
Has he eaten bear heart and leopard gall?
Bao Gu immediately linked her consciousness into the Qingzhou Grand Formation, tracing the direction of the disturbance.
She found it came from the encampment of the three hundred thousand Gold‑armored troops.
