Chapter 135: Audience and Assassination

When the Bishop of Verona arrived at Castel Sant'Angelo, his displeasure at the surrounding soldiers was almost palpable.

"Turning a holy site into this, hmph."

He let out a cold snort and, followed by his entourage, walked into the heavily guarded Castel Sant'Angelo.

Greeting him was Gilbert.

"Bishop Adalbero, welcome."

Gilbert extended his hand, appearing as though he intended to shake hands with Adalbero.

Perhaps it was time to be fair and let the Crown Prince learn to handle some responsibilities as well, otherwise, resentment would brew within him, which explained why he would go to any length to frame the third prince.

"Sigh, this girl, she still calls me master. What's wrong with calling me by my name?" Zhang Sheng muttered, scratching his head in bewilderment upon hearing Anyang continue to address him as master, before getting up to wash and dress.

The short sleeves of his ordinary clothes had slowly softened, pressing tightly against Wang Shouchao's skin, scorching it until it turned red.

This instantly shook his newly hardened resolve. In that split second, Long Shaofeng felt his mind flood with countless unfamiliar elements, causing a severe headache. Unsurprisingly, Long Shaofeng felt his body grow light and was directly expelled from the forest.

The embroiderer immediately understood; Shen Yan had used this trick before, and they naturally saw through Feng Qiwen's intentions.

Hearing the conversation between the two, the previously dazed person could not help but produce a smile born of incongruity.

"Human! Don't even think about tricking me! I have always known how cunning humans are!" The Snow Plain Wolf King looked at Ling Jiuyou with a mixture of doubt and suspicion, clearly finding it hard to believe her words.

If these conditions were so easily met, Tutankhamun would not have been trapped here for a full two thousand years. Perhaps only he, through a stroke of serendipity, had become teammates with Layrilla and thus managed to find this place.

"You must be asking about the silks I had people send yesterday." Prince Kang smiled upon hearing this, and then placed a stone, blocking Feng Qiwen's retreat.

"You're being too formal, Mengmeng. Since you are the wife chosen by Xiao Yan, you will be the future Empress of our royal family. Naturally, we must do our utmost to serve you." A relieved smile appeared on the emperor's wrinkled face, soothing the heart like an ancient tree blooming in spring.

Shen Li suddenly understood. It turned out this family had served as imperial merchants for a few years and had been established in Lingzhou for so long that their influence was deeply entrenched. Given Jiang Han's temperament, as long as he wasn't directly offended, he wouldn't bother sticking his neck out for Ma Gaoyi.

Zhao Lin, however, refused to leave. Fearing that Wang Erpeng would harm her beloved, she stood firmly by Mu Feng's side with a resolute expression of sharing life and death.

Although Konghuan merely stated her identity on the surface without mentioning any punishment, everyone present likely understood the implicit meaning behind her words.

The projected footage happened to show the night He Caining was captured quietly, holding my hand on the long street and pouring out her heart to me, even though someone had been scared away at the time.

In the eyes of discerning people like Qi Chi, he was Grand Academician He Shuo's confidant, possessing outstanding political acumen, and belonged to the rising stars of officialdom who commanded attention. Jia Huan's three chapters proposed in the Wuying Hall had left a deep impression on the ministers.

"Who, who on earth are you?" With iron chains locked around her by the soldiers, Song Minglin's face was flushed with shame and anger, casting a gaze full of resentment toward Zhu Song.

Mu Feng did not press further. In his heart, he already knew: it was true that his two grand-uncles accompanied him, but it was equally true that they were bound here by a special confinement.

Azuki Miho wore plain attire, deeply disturbed and seemingly lost in thought. Then, as if sensing something, she suddenly stopped in her tracks, turned around with a radiant expression of joy, and looked back.

The most miserable part for Tangtang was this: Where is today's battlefield? It was determined entirely by her—wherever she was, the battlefield was there. Yet, Tangtang had deliberately created an independent battlefield, facing a pure silver-ranked dragon all by herself.