The Reverse Scale

June 29th, an auspicious day for moving.

Perhaps because today marks the first propitious day of the lunar calendar in August, there seemed to be several families moving into the neighborhood where Ji Ningzhao lived. Around seven in the morning, Ji Ningzhao vaguely heard the crackle of firecrackers from next door. Half asleep, she pulled her quilt tighter around herself and drifted back into slumber.

Meanwhile, Zhong Yanbei had specially brought three jars of peach blossom wine to congratulate Ying Chongyun on his housewarming. Upon entering, before he could finish his greetings, he sensed the energy of the Tiger Bone Technique surging toward perfection, power raging within his body, washing through him again and again.

After a moment’s thought, Nara Shikaku raised a crucial question, drawing everyone’s gaze once more toward the great toad sage.

Teacher Hanako said that emotional days usually last only a single day; the simplest way to get through them is to lock oneself away.

“Why is everyone here a stranger? Why can’t I run into someone familiar for once?” Zhuge Shuangquan craned his neck to observe the passersby.

Inoue Hideo, who loved to write, continued working on unfinished chapters. It was hard to imagine that he had powered through over five million words out of pure passion—any ordinary person would have given up long ago.

“I heard that those ancient, prestigious families have a rule: before turning sixteen, the children are strictly forbidden from having a romantic partner.”

The first family was Li Xiaogong’s, then Yuchi Gong, Changsun Wuji, Wei Zheng, Xiao Yu, and others.

The two brothers had signed up for the martial arts tournament a year ago, so they were not overly concerned now, leisurely wandering near the arena.

“Go ahead and try,” Fei Weimen was also curious about what level Luo Feng’s trial by fire had reached.

Because each patient’s condition differed, treating multiple people at once was like drawing a circle with one hand and a square with the other—it demanded the ability to split one’s focus.

Li Mu looked toward the other ridges of Xuanfeng Institute. Everything was calm, as though no one had noticed the commotion.

“Senior, if you’re not interested, you could teach it to me. I, Xiaoyaozi, would be eternally grateful,” Xiaoyaozi hurriedly said.

For a moment, golden light flashed—we both sensed each other. Yet as soon as a thought arose in me, the couple’s ability to control the sensation was extinguished.

Aside from Ziya and Libis, who already knew Ye Lin and understood her character, everyone else was in awe—almost fearful—of this supernaturally adorable grand mage.

In the distance, Jiang Yu, peering through a Persian mirror, saw the Turkic army withdraw. Overjoyed, she made a coconut-shaped hand gesture.

Orochimaru was called a genius not just for his talent in research, but also because he had developed original techniques, such as the art of shedding his own skin.

Those crimson eyes, which ought to have signified violence and ferocity, now looked more like they were venting the deep despair buried in the heart of the Demon Claw.

Watching Chu Man’er and her sister walk out the door, Yun Qingzhu turned her head away, and in a place where no one could see, quietly wiped away her tears.

“My lord, the emperor is hosting a banquet tonight for the successful candidates. His Excellency the Eunuch has named you as an honored guest. Please dress elegantly for the occasion,” the head eunuch said with a slight bow, then clapped softly.

“It’s nothing.” He calmed his pulse and said, “I revealed a secret. Jin Buping is just making trouble for me again. Please, don’t let me down.” His tone was full of meaning.

“Do you all believe we should respond with force?” Lu Haodong, sensing the atmosphere had reached its peak, asked at just the right moment.

The Wolf King advanced step by step, a deep, menacing growl in his throat, his eyes flashing with murderous intent—like sharp knives glinting in the dark, filling those who watched with dread.

With all those eyes on her, Xia Fangyuan felt awkward from head to toe.

Even during the renovations, he hadn’t been idle. He held a piece of wood in his left hand and a carving knife in his right, whittling away. Though he’d long since retired his blade, he still enjoyed carving for fun.

It took a long time for the beam of light to pass through the center of the sacred tomb, which showed just how vast the place truly was. Though it appeared small from afar, the distance was deceptive—the actual tomb was as large as a city.