Emerging from the dark and solemn gateway of the Sacrificial Altar, Ma Lang and Ma Qing stepped out slowly, as if walking out of a rift in ancient times, surrounded by a faint aura of mystery.
Elder Yilan and Little Yimi had long been waiting outside. Their anxiety, like the light mist in the morning glow, lingered around them, adding a touch of warmth and a hint of heaviness to this solemn scene.
At the sight of Ma Lang, Elder Yilan's eyes lit up instantly, a mixture of joy at seeing him safe and concern for the unknown.
She couldn't wait to step forward, her voice trembling slightly as if afraid of disturbing something. "Young Master, are you alright? Did Second Master cause any trouble?"
Ma Lang shook his head gently, a faint smile curling his lips—a smile that carried a trace of unruliness and detachment, attempting to soothe the kind old lady.
He slowly pulled out a packet of secret delicacies "borrowed" from the Qingyun Feast from his bosom, intending it as a surprise. However, after a night of jostling, these exquisite pastries had been flattened into an unrecognizable mess.
Embarrassed, he lifted his hand, intending to quietly slip them back into his bosom and dispose of them at a suitable time. But Elder Yilan was quicker, snatching them up and carefully straightening them out as if they were the most precious treasures in the world.
Little Yimi, unable to contain her greed, stared at the flattened delicacies with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open, and drool glistening at the corners. She looked both adorable and pitiful.
Elder Yilan and Little Yimi tasted the delicacies together, their movements surprisingly elegant, showing no sign of awkwardness despite the deformed pastries. Rather, they savored them as if attending a grand banquet, each bite filled with ceremony and satisfaction.
And so, the God's Sacrifice Day of the 3389th year of the God's Calendar began in a warm and slightly dramatic atmosphere.
Aside from the unpleasant encounter in the morning—the confrontation with his second uncle's son and the sudden slap that cut through his heart like a blade in the cold wind—the rest of the day was picturesque and flawless. The arrival of his sister Ma Qing not only brought several carefully selected delicacies but also brought an abundance of food prepared by Elder Yilan, as almost everything in this world, except for secret power-related items, was available in unlimited quantities.
The dining table was laden with delicacies, as if the whole world was offering tributes to this day's celebration.
Little Yimi's youthful face was beaming with pure smiles. She occasionally wiped her mouth with her hand covered in pastry crumbs. Her unconcealed satisfaction and happiness were like blooming flowers in spring, bright and warm.
Witnessing this scene, Ma Lang felt a warm current surge through his heart. He thought to himself that perhaps this was the best arrangement of fate, turning all imperfections into the most touching scenery in life.
As night fell, moonlight flooded the courtyard like water. Ma Qing inquired in detail about the events of the previous night, her brows furrowed, her eyes sparkling with calculation. She looked like a strategist planning a war without smoke.
She decided that she must accompany Ma Lang tomorrow, knowing full well that he knew almost nothing about these lofty privileged classes. He was like a young deer entering the jungle, and for someone as shrewd as Ma Qing, this was undoubtedly a heaven-sent opportunity to strike a good deal. How could she easily let it go?
She must seize this opportunity to strike a good "bargain" and save some resources for her brother's future secret cultivation. Ma Qing pondered this secretly, coinciding perfectly with Ma Lang's thoughts.
The next morning, before the first rays of sunlight had fully dispelled the night, Ma Lang was awakened from his dream by his sister Ma Qing's magnetic voice. "Lazy brother, wake up! Today, we're going to teach the Zhen family a lesson they'll never forget! We'll make Zhen Liu pay dearly for what he's done."
As she spoke, Ma Qing unceremoniously hauled Ma Lang out of bed and pushed him into the bathroom, her actions swift and decisive, leaving Ma Lang no chance to catch his breath.
In the flying car, Ma Qing's laughter was as refreshing as the morning breeze, piercing through the quiet of the early morning with a touch of unruliness and confidence. "Haha, today we're not only going to show the Zhen family who's boss, but we're also going to make them pay through the nose! Don't worry, Director Murong Yunhai will be our solid backing this time."
Ma Lang rubbed his sleepy eyes, looking confused as if he hadn't fully awakened from yesterday's disturbances. "Sister, why are you so sure Director Murong Yunhai will fully help us?"
Ma Qing smiled mysteriously, her eyes sparkling with cunning as she patted Ma Lang's shoulder with just the right amount of force, displaying both her confidence and her care for her brother.
"Director Murong Yunhai has long been dissatisfied with those overbearing families, and you are the sharp sword that will pierce their arrogance. Today, we'll show them that even godly families can't do whatever they want!"
Though Ma Lang had doubts, seeing his sister's firm eyes, as if she had everything under control, he didn't ask further.
The flying car landed slowly on the plaza in front of the Dao Sect's Grand Hall. The two stepped out lightly, only to see the Alliance Headquarters standing quietly in the morning glow like a sleeping giant, its solemn aura piercing through all obstacles and reaching deep into their hearts.
The Grand Hall of the Dao Sect facing them was even more majestic, seemingly touching the sky and inspiring awe.
Ma Lang looked up. The Grand Hall soared into the clouds, with its roof embedded with sparkling gems that shimmered mysteriously. Each brick seemed to contain ancient power, making one feel deep reverence for the dignity and strength of the Dao Sect.
The surrounding buildings were well-arranged, blending classical and futuristic styles. They retained the charm of history while displaying the sharpness of technology, presenting a meticulously arranged picture scroll to the world.
According to his sister Ma Qing, apart from the Dao Sect, Alliance institutions, and some commercial buildings, other civilian structures occupied very little space in this world.
Usually, only a fixed entrance building was needed, with the rest hidden using space-folding technology.
For example, the courtyard and halls of Ma Lang's home were the entrance buildings, a privilege reserved for godly families. Ordinary families even shared public exits.
It was similar to high-rise buildings in his previous life, except that each family had a very spacious free area.
If one wanted to use other functional areas, secret coins had to be paid, as it involved the use of secret power, a realm not easily accessible to ordinary people.
Stepping into the Grand Hall, Ma Lang and his sister were both shocked by the sight before them. The atmosphere inside was solemn, starkly contrasting with the relaxed mood of the previous night. It felt as if they had entered a different world overnight.
Rows of Dao Sect guards stood like statues, clad in silver armor, their eyes as sharp as torches, guarding this tranquility and solemnity. Their presence seemed to freeze the air inside the hall.
On the inner platform of the hall stood Director Murong Yunhai. Dressed in an ancient-style robe, with white hair and beard but a spirited demeanor, he exuded an extraordinary and detached aura. He looked like a wise man who had everything under control, overlooking the world.
Ma Lang exchanged a look with his sister, and a deep, unspoken understanding flowed between them.
Then, Ma Lang stepped forward alone, his voice cold yet respectful. "Director Murong Yunhai, I'm here."
Director Murong Yunhai nodded slightly. His deep, abyssal eyes seemed to pierce through people's hearts, gazing directly into their souls. "Ma Lang, it's a pity about your mercy. I regret to inform you that Zhen Liu is already dead."
These words startled Ma Lang. His pupils dilated, but his face remained cold and composed.
His heart, however, was in turmoil, with countless questions and conjectures flooding his mind. What secrets did Zhen Liu's death hide?