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

Wang Long stood at the courtyard gate, watching Qin Minglan's figure disappear at the end of the long street, and stood there for a long time.

Murong Qing gently tugged at his sleeve with her small hand and softly comforted him.

"Uncle, Sister Qin will be alright."

Wang Long took a deep breath, turned around, and looked at Murong Qing's pale face.

"Your Highness, let me help you back to your room to rest."

Murong Qing nodded, opened her arms to Wang Long, her little face soft and chubby.

"Uncle, my legs are weak, can you carry me?"

Without hesitation, Wang Long picked up Murong Qing and carried her towards the room.

Wang Long helped Murong Qing sit down on the bed, took off her boots, pulled the quilt over her, and carefully tucked the corners of the quilt in.

Murong Qing lay on the bed, wrapped in a quilt, only her small face showing, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him.

"Old man, you just... touched my waist."

Her voice was soft, and her face was slightly flushed.

Wang Long paused for a moment, his old face turning red.

"Your Highness, please forgive me... I didn't mean to."

"I know."

Murong Qing interrupted him, her voice shy.

"I don't blame you."

She reached out from under the covers and took Wang Long's hand.

Wang Long's fingers were rough, covered with calluses and scars.

Murong Qing's fingers were slender, white, and soft, as if boneless.

The two hands were clasped together, the contrast so stark it was almost jarring.

Murong Qing's fingers tightened slightly as she held his hand and placed it on her chest.

"Old man, this princess is so scared."

Her voice trembled slightly.

"I wonder how Father and my elder brother are doing~"

Looking at her reddened eyes, Wang Long felt a pang of heartache.

He took her hand in his own, his rough palm enveloping her slender fingers, and patted it gently.

"Your Highness, rest assured, His Majesty is the Son of Heaven, blessed with boundless fortune, and will surely emerge from seclusion safely."

"His Highness the Crown Prince is wise and brave, and with the Imperial Guards protecting him, he will be fine."

Murong Qing bit her lip and nodded.

"Uncle, don't go."

"Don't let go until I fall asleep."

"it is good."

Wang Long sat by the bed, holding her hand, watching her gradually fall asleep.

Murong Qing's breathing gradually calmed down, and she held Wang Long's hand tightly, not letting go even when she was asleep.

Just then, a commotion suddenly broke out outside the courtyard.

The roars of mythical beasts, the shouts of people, and the clash of weapons mingled together, growing ever closer.

Wang Long frowned, gently withdrew his hand, stood up, walked to the window and looked outside.

Outside the courtyard wall, more than a dozen frenzied spirit beasts were surging toward the Marquis's residence from all directions.

There were some of the third or fourth grade, and some of the first or second grade, all of different sizes, densely packed together, a dark, overwhelming mass.

Wang Long gripped the Heavenly Gang Sword tightly.

"Little Fairy, can you still fight?"

The little fairy floated out of his arms, landed on his shoulder, rubbed her eyes with her little hands, and yawned.

"Don't worry, Master, Little Fairy has rested for a while and is full of energy again!"

Wang Long nodded, pushed open the door, and walked out of the room.

Inside the courtyard, the berserk spirit beasts had already rushed in and were causing destruction everywhere.

The servants of the Marquis's mansion are putting up an angry resistance.

Without wasting words, Wang Long flashed into the horde of spirit beasts.

With the Heavenly Gang Sword in hand, nine swords swirled around him, their sword energy crisscrossing, exuding a chilling killing intent.

With a single sword stroke, he severed the head of a third-grade spirit beast, and blood splattered everywhere.

A single sword pierced the heart of a fourth-grade spirit beast, which collapsed to the ground with a scream, dying instantly.

Nine swords weaved through the horde of spirit beasts, their flashes of light causing the beasts to fall wherever they went.

Wang Long was like a god of death, rampaging through the courtyard, his sword flashing and striking, leaving piles of spirit beast corpses on the ground.

In less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, all of the dozen or so berserk spirit beasts were killed, their blood staining the entire courtyard red.

"Wow, Grandpa Wang is amazing!"

"Is this what a martial artist is like?"

The servants of the Marquis's mansion looked up at Wang Long with eyes full of admiration.

Wang Long sheathed his sword and stood there, instructing everyone to quickly tidy up.

Everyone readily agreed and got to work.

"Master is so amazing!"

Little Fairy jumped on his shoulder and clapped her little hands.

Wang Long grinned.

At the end of the long street, towards the palace, flames soared into the sky.

The Imperial Palace.

Spirit Beast Garden.

The sea-turning dragon lay on the ground, panting heavily.

Although Ye Niannu forced out most of the evil energy within it, some still remained.

The black mist swirled around it, appearing and disappearing intermittently, causing its consciousness to fluctuate between clarity and confusion.

Zhao Pojun emerged from the darkness with an excited smile on his face.

He walked up to the Turbulent Sea Dragon, looked up at the enormous creature, and his eyes were filled with greed.

"A ninth-grade spirit beast... a sea-crawling dragon..."

He muttered to himself, a sinister smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"From this day forward, you belong to me."

He took out a black scroll from his sleeve, unrolled it, bit his finger, and dripped blood onto the scroll.

Blood spread across the scroll, transforming into eerie runes that emitted a chilling light.

Puppetry Blood Pact.

This is the highest level of contract in puppetry, using the caster's essence and blood as a guide to establish a soul-level connection with the target, completely refining them into a puppet.

The Turbulent Sea Dragon seemed to sense danger. It suddenly opened its eyes, which flashed red light. It opened its huge mouth and bit at Zhao Pojun!

Zhao Pojun was prepared. He dodged the bite with a swift movement, and at the same time bit his tongue, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the scroll.

The runes on the scroll lit up instantly, emitting a blinding blood-red light.

The blood-red light transformed into countless fine, hair-like blood threads, which burrowed into the body of the Turbulent Sea Dragon, merging with its flesh, bones, and meridians.

"roar!"

The Turbulent Sea Dragon let out a mournful scream, its massive body tumbling violently, smashing the ground of the Spirit Beast Garden into craters.

But those blood vessels had already penetrated deep into its soul, and it was powerless to resist.

Zhao Pojun stood at a distance, a smile on his lips, his hands forming a hand seal, and he muttered incantations.

The blood-red light grew stronger, while the struggle of the sea-swept dragon grew weaker.

After an unknown amount of time, the sea-swallowing dragon finally stopped struggling, lay motionless on the ground.

Its eyes no longer glowed red, but became pitch black, devoid of any spirit.

Zhao Pojun walked up to it and reached out to touch its head.

The sea-blowing dragon showed no reaction, like a soulless puppet.

Zhao Pojun laughed, a hysterical laugh.

"It's done... My puppetry technique... is complete..."

He looked up at the churning sea and the soaring dragon, his eyes filled with madness.

"Once I refine this ninth-grade spirit beast, the entire Great Qian Dynasty will be mine!"

Deep inside the secret room.

Emperor Murong Yuan sat cross-legged on a futon, his eyes closed, his body surging with spiritual energy.

He is attempting to become a Grandmaster.

The hidden injuries within the body gradually healed under the cleansing influence of spiritual energy.

However, his spiritual energy was greatly depleted, and his face grew paler and paler, his lips devoid of color.

"Just a little bit more..."

Murong Yuan gritted his teeth, his spiritual energy circulating faster and faster, his meridians were reaching their limit, and his bones were groaning under the unbearable burden.

"Break it for me!"