Lin Qingyan and Gu Xiaoli remained very quiet, saying nothing at all.
Nor did they do anything.
Lin Qingyan still had her arm linked through Gu Chengyin's, her fingers resting lightly on his forearm, her fingertips sensing the slight rise and fall of the muscles beneath his sleeve.
She didn't ask any questions, nor did she try to interrupt Gu Chengyin's thoughts.
She only knew that he was thinking about something very important, and the only thing she could do right now was stay quietly by his side.
To let him know that no matter what happened, she was there.
Gu Xiaoli also kept her hands cupping her cheeks, her small body pressed against Gu Chengyin's arm like a cat sneaking close to a warm stove.
Her hands were still propping up her chin, and her big eyes were still blinking.
Only, her gaze was no longer fixed solely on Gu Chengyin. Instead, she occasionally stole glances at Lin Qingyan.
The two of them would occasionally meet each other's eyes.
When Lin Qingyan looked at Gu Xiaoli, Gu Xiaoli happened to be looking at her too.
Their gazes met in midair—no sparks, no hostility, only a tacit understanding of shared gravity.
Though they didn't know what this imperial decree truly meant, or how deep Emperor Luo's scheming went.
Though they didn't know what Gu Chengyin was pondering at this moment, they could tell.
Judging from the current state of things, this matter was probably of the utmost importance.
Because Gu Chengyin rarely remained silent for this long.
On ordinary days, he was always composed and unhurried. No matter what he encountered, he could laugh and chat as if everything were within his expectations.
But at this moment, although Gu Chengyin's face remained calm, the heaviness hidden beneath that calm could not escape the notice of those who truly understood him.
Lin Qingyan had followed him for so long, and Gu Xiaoli had hung her entire heart on him.
They were more sensitive to his shifts in emotion than anyone else.
So neither of them said anything, neither asked anything.
They simply stayed quietly by his side, accompanying him in their own ways.
At last, Gu Chengyin let out a breath.
The breath was long, very long, as if he wanted to expel all the turbid air accumulated in his chest.
His shoulders sank slightly, his spine relaxed a little, but the gravity on his face did not fully dissipate.
It merely shifted from between his brows to deeper in his eyes.
Gu Chengyin raised a hand and rubbed his temples, then lowered it, letting it rest on the edge of the imperial decree.
He shook his head and said, somewhat helplessly:
"His Majesty's advantage is still too great."
These words came from the heart.
Gu Chengyin rarely made such evaluations, because there was basically no one who could put pressure on him.
But now, Emperor Luo had indeed given him some pressure.
As the source of all power, and the ultimate interpreter of every rule under heaven,
one sentence from Emperor Luo could elevate a person to the clouds, or cast them into the abyss.
An imperial decree from him was heaven's will, an unassailable command.
This advantage was not something that could be compensated for through hard work; it was naturally endowed by the position one occupied.
Sitting on that throne, Emperor Luo innately possessed a crushing advantage.
If he had been a foolish ruler, it would have been easier to deal with.
A foolish ruler is easily deceived, easily manipulated, easily swayed by emotion, and prone to making wrong judgments and decisions.
Against a foolish ruler, Gu Chengyin had countless methods.
He could ally and maneuver within the court, cultivate his own forces in the shadows.
He could use borrowed strength to strike, retreat in order to advance, or even let the foolish ruler destroy himself.
But the problem was, Emperor Luo was no fool.
Not only was he no fool, his imperial mind games were nothing short of masterful.
Emperor Luo was never swayed by emotion, never made impulsive decisions, never left any handle that could be exploited.
Every step he took was deeply deliberated, every word carried one or even several layers of meaning.
Behind every decision lay a web that had been laid out long in advance.
Like the most brilliant chess player under heaven, always seeing a hundred moves ahead of his opponent.
That made things very difficult.
The more Gu Chengyin understood Emperor Luo, the more he felt that this emperor was truly unfathomable.
Every time he thought he had touched the bottom of Emperor Luo's depths, Emperor Luo would use new measures to tell him—you've only seen the tip of the iceberg.
Every time he thought his plans were thorough enough, Emperor Luo would use a seemingly casual action to tell him—every step you take was already anticipated by me.
This feeling of being calculated to the bone was truly unpleasant.
Fortunately, he had not placed all his focus on the arts of power.
Gu Chengyin silently gave himself a mental reassurance.
He had never been a man who only played with power games.
Power games were merely a means, not his whole being.
What truly allowed him to stand firm was the insight of having lived two lifetimes.
It was his profound understanding of the rules of this world, and his continuous breakthroughs on the path of cultivation.
Besides, this was a world of immortal cultivators.
Gu Chengyin's gaze lifted slightly, passing through the window lattice and settling on the distant horizon beyond the hall.
The sky was a clear, washed blue. A few white clouds drifted lazily, edged with a golden glow from the sunlight.
Further away, a bird flew past, its wings tracing a line through the air that was quickly erased by the wind.
Before absolute power, all schemes are paper tigers.
This was a truth Gu Chengyin had deeply understood in his previous life, and a belief he had consistently upheld in this one.
Power games could keep him unbeaten in the court, could allow him to maneuver freely in the game of power.
But power games were ultimately only technique, not the true path.
The true path was cultivation, was the Golden Core, was the absolute strength that transcended all rules.
No matter how exquisite Emperor Luo's power plays were, they could not change one fact.
He was, after all, merely a mortal emperor.
And this world belonged to cultivators.
Lin Qingyan, invincible at the Golden Core stage, belonged to Gu Chengyin.
Gu Xiaoli, half a step into the Nascent Soul stage, also belonged to Gu Chengyin now.
As long as these two didn't turn their rivalry into a battlefield, he was already in an undefeatable position.
"Little Aunt."
Gu Chengyin suddenly spoke. He was addressing Lin Qingyan.
Hearing Gu Chengyin's voice, Luo Zhao hesitated and looked over.
She had been immersed in her own thoughts, and Gu Chengyin's sudden address interrupted her train of thought.
She didn't know why Gu Chengyin had suddenly called Lin Qingyan, so she instinctively followed his gaze.
And then Luo Zhao noticed—when had Gu Xiaoli moved to sit beside Gu Chengyin?
Her gaze landed on Gu Xiaoli, quickly comparing her current position with where she had been before.
Just now, she distinctly remembered Gu Xiaoli sitting on the other side of the table, separated from Gu Chengyin by the table's distance.
But now, this cat-eared little girl had silently shifted to Gu Chengyin's other side.
Her small body was pressed against Gu Chengyin's arm, her hands still cupping her cheeks.
But that posture looked more and more like she was snuggling up to Gu Chengyin.
Lin Qingyan on his left, Gu Xiaoli on his right.
ng to die together with you." Lin Xuan is dead, his body thrown into the river by his scumbag lover and her accomplice. She, the president of the Su Group, is decisive, ruthless, and ice-cold. For three days and three nights, she had his body fished out of the river, and without hesitation, she kissed the bloated corpse of Lin Xuan. She laid down beside him in a cold coffin, their fingers intertwined, a smile lingering on her lips as she closed her eyes. The noble and cold-hearted woman, only bending for one man—Lin Xuan. Lin Xuan, with his golden finger, is reborn and returns to the day of his wedding to the treacherous woman. Su Qiang comes to steal the bride. Lin Xuan's eyes light up, eager to pledge his loyalty on the spot, but instead, her kiss transfers a glass of drugged wine into his mouth, causing him to pass out... 【Male Protagonist with Single Female Lead】【Yandere Tycoon】【Action-Packed】【True vs. Fake Heir】
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
