The charming widow of the Marquis's mansion: The stable boy carries the flag and raises the dra

Wang Long chuckled, rubbed his hands together, and quickly changed the subject.

"Young Miss, are you hungry? Shall I make you breakfast?"

"snort!"

Qin Minglan was both ashamed and angry, but there was nothing she could do about it. She could only sit on the bed with her arms crossed and turn her head away from him.

Wang Long had no choice but to sit down next to Qin Minglan, gently put his arm around her waist, and keep saying nice things to her.

After a long while, Qin Minglan slowly turned her head back, looked at Wang Long, and a complicated look flashed in her almond-shaped eyes.

"Old man."

"Um?"

"Will you... will you always be good to me?"

Wang Long looked at her, his cloudy old eyes filled with tenderness.

"meeting."

"lifetime?"

"lifetime!"

Qin Minglan's eyes filled with tears.

She threw herself into Wang Long's arms, wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her face in his chest, and began to sob.

"You old fool... if you dare to lie to me... I'll... I'll kill you..."

Wang Long put his arm around her and gently patted her back.

"Fine, if this old servant has lied to the young lady, then the young lady may kill this old servant."

Qin Minglan cried for a while before gradually stopping.

She lifted her head from Wang Long's arms, her eyes and the tip of her nose were red, she looked pitiful, yet inexplicably cute.

"Old man."

"This old servant is here~"

Wang Long spoke with a doting tone.

"You need to become stronger."

Her voice was soft and earnest.

"Become very, very strong, so strong that no one can hurt you, so strong that you can live for many, many years."

"I don't want to... I don't want to become a widow at such a young age."

Wang Long paused for a moment, then laughed.

"Alright, this old servant promises you, young lady, that I will become stronger and live to be a hundred years old."

"How can a hundred years be enough?"

Qin Minglan glared at him.

"At least...at least live to be two hundred years old."

"Alright, alright, two hundred years old."

Wang Long nodded with a smile.

Reaching the Grandmaster level can extend one's lifespan by a hundred years.

Wang Long believed he could achieve it!

Upon hearing this answer, Qin Minglan gave a satisfied hum, snuggled back into his arms, and closed her eyes.

"Old man."

"I'm a little tired... let me sleep a little longer."

"it is good."

Wang Long put his arm around her and gently stroked her head.

Zhennan Marquis's Residence - Main Hall

Zhao Pojun sat upright in the main seat, the tea in front of him had gone cold, but he didn't drink a drop.

Outside the window, it was already bright daylight.

Zhao Lingyun did not return home all night.

His servants, whom he had sent out to find people, returned one after another, each with their heads bowed and their faces filled with fear.

"Reporting to Your Excellency, I have searched the entire south of the city, but I have not found the young master..."

"Reporting to Your Excellency, there are none in the north of the city either..."

"There aren't any in the east of the city either..."

"There aren't any in the west of the city either..."

Zhao Pojun tapped his fingers on the armrest, once, then again.

The sound was exceptionally clear in the silent main hall, each strike seeming to resonate in the hearts of everyone present.

"waste!"

Zhao Pojun roared angrily.

The servants kneeling on the ground trembled, their foreheads pressed to the ground, not daring to breathe.

"Get out here and find it, all of you!"

Zhao Pojun stood up, his gaze sharp as a knife.

"If you can't find Ling Yun, you don't need to come back."

"Yes...yes..."

The servants scrambled out of the house.

Zhao Pojun sat back down in his chair, closed his eyes, and continued to tap his fingers on the armrest.

He had a vague sense of foreboding.

Ling Yun said he was going to find Qin Minglan last night, but he never came back.

With his cultivation level of Rank 4, Lingyun should be untouchable in the capital.

unless……

Zhao Pojun suddenly opened his eyes, a cold glint flashing in them.

It was Luo Hanyi who personally took action!

But this possibility is very low.

Zhao Pojun stopped tapping his fingers. He had a premonition that his son's accident was definitely related to the Marquis of Zhenbei's mansion.

"Someone come here."

"What are your orders, Lord Marquis?"

A middle-aged man walked in from outside and bowed.

"Investigate where Ling Yun went last night and who he met. Find out everything for me."

"Yes."

The middle-aged man turned and left.

Zhao Pojun stood up, walked to the window, and stood with his hands behind his back.

His gaze passed over the layers of courtyard walls, looking towards the distant Zhenbei Marquis's residence.

"Luo Hanyi..."

He muttered to himself, his voice icy.

"If anything happens to Ling Yun, I will make your entire Zhenbei Marquisate pay with your lives."

The sun gradually rose higher.

The people sent out returned in batches, but they all brought back the same message.

No.

I can't find it anywhere.

Zhao Lingyun seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving not a trace.

Zhao Pojun sat in the main hall, his face growing increasingly gloomy.

Finally, a servant came running in, stumbling and crawling, and knelt on the ground, his voice trembling.

"Lord...Lord...we've found him..."

Zhao Pojun suddenly stood up.

"Where?"

"Found...found...found..."

The servant's voice grew softer and softer until it was almost inaudible.

"What did you discover?!"

Zhao Pojun strode up to him, grabbed his collar, and lifted him off the ground.

The servant's face turned ashen, and he spoke in a trembling voice.

"Found...found burn marks...and...and..."

Zhao Pojun suddenly grabbed the servant by the collar and lifted him up from the ground, his eyes bloodshot.

"What did you find? Tell me!"

The servant's face turned ashen, and he trembled as he pulled a piece of cloth from his bosom.

It was a piece of brocade that had been burned down to the size of a palm, with charred and curled edges, but you could still vaguely make out that it was originally a dark blue cloud-patterned brocade.

That was Zhao Lingyun's favorite robe, which Zhao Pojun personally ordered from the Weaving Bureau. There was only one of its kind in the entire Daqian Dynasty.

Zhao Pojun's hands began to tremble.

He took the charred cloth and ran his fingertips along the burnt lines on it.

Heartbreaking!

"And...and..."

The servant's voice was almost squeezed out of his throat.

"My subordinates found... ashes... and some... charred... bone fragments nearby..."

The moment the words fell, an invisible shockwave seemed to explode in the main hall.

Zhao Pojun's spiritual energy surged, and a terrifying, suffocating aura erupted from his body, sweeping across the entire main hall!

boom!

Tables and chairs shattered, doors and windows blasted open, and roof tiles were blown off and scattered everywhere!

The servants kneeling on the ground were the first to be hit by the violent shockwave. Their chests caved in, blood gushed from their seven orifices, and they fell straight to the ground, dying on the spot, before they could even scream.

In the courtyard outside the main hall, maids, servants, and guards fell to the ground, spitting blood, and some of the weaker ones fainted.

The full power of a peak seventh-grade cultivator.

Within this imperial city, only a handful of people could withstand such an attack.

Zhao Pojun stood in the center of the chaotic main hall, his eyes bloodshot, veins bulging, and his whole body shrouded in a layer of blood-red spiritual energy, like a ferocious tiger on the verge of madness.

"Soaring Clouds—"

His voice was hoarse, filled with suppressed grief and anger.

"My Lingyun!"