“We didn’t hurt anyone. What we sold was properly treated, safe from poison. Coming into the city these days wasn’t for nothing—we managed to earn a bit of hard‑earned money.”
“Oh”
Half of the probing gazes had faded away.
“I told you, doing business is never that easy.”
“Exactly. If you ask me, it’s better to honestly tend the family’s few acres and earn some food—that’s the proper way to live. Those restless ones who love to stir things up only end up poorer the more they fuss.”
Jiang Mengyue stepped into the house; hearing the sounds from the courtyard, she gave a cold smile.
She held command over matters of the future, of great use to the crown prince, who would surely protect her completely.
Even the crown princess could not touch her.
Jiang Mengyue cursed inwardly that the crown prince’s secret guards were useless—letting someone break into her home and even allowing that madwoman to slap her twice.
Where have all the secret guards gone?
“Someone! Where are you!” Jiang Mengyue cried out, shaking all over with fury.
The young warriors, hoarse and weary, yet shouted encouragement with such force that Murong Yun’s retreating heart was jolted.
She clenched her teeth but could not suppress the upward curve of her lips—how could she retreat now, with such an invincible cheer squad behind her?!
Heaven could see it: ever since her transmigration, the world’s judgment had always been scorn—useless, vicious, decadent, a parasite blessed only by luck of birth.
Where the meteors fell, explosions resounded; with his own strength alone, Su Liu shattered the spirit shield and gravely injured hundreds of cultivators.
So strong...
Murong Yun stared at the scene before him, dumbfounded. Was this the peak power of the aggressive spiritual attribute?
Everyone in the Xiao household was stuffed, yet none could bear to put down their chopsticks—the food was simply too delicious.
Especially the half‑grown children, who ate every grain of rice in their bowls without leaving a single one.
Tonight’s dishes differed from the Marquis’s New Year feast; though New Year’s offered more variety, it never had this much meat.
Wen Qingwan looked at the man who could barely stand; she had clearly overthought—his fief was prosperous.
And he merely happened to own a few villages, with ten thousand households of wounded soldiers, that’s all!
In her previous life as empress, when she assisted Zhao Jue with memorials, she never saw any record of Xiao Jin as a Marquis of ten thousand households.
