169: Chapter 169 Archimonde

The night wind of Taiping Old Street carried the slight chill unique to early autumn.

In the patio of the Funeral Shop's backyard, the orange-red glow of the charcoal fire gradually dimmed.

The sizzling, greasy barbecue feast was drawing to a close.

A heap of empty beer cans and iron skewers lay scattered across the stone table.

Lin Ye leaned back in a rattan chair, idly playing with an empty beer can in his hand.

Ever since he fully comprehended the Inner Canon of the Yellow Emperor, coupled with the breakthrough in his Pure Yang Dao Body,

he suddenly felt that staring at the numbers in his bank account every day was far too petty.

Money was something that was fine as long as there was enough to spend.

In this life—especially having been reborn in this era of spiritual revival where demons and monsters ran rampant—what he sought was nothing more than clarity of mind and swift, satisfying vengeance.

Protecting his own little plot of land, raising the stunning mermaids in his fishpond, and admiring the moon in his courtyard when he had nothing else to do—wasn't that far better than being a miserable miser?

“Here, take these.”

Lin Ye casually grabbed the last two skewers of golden, crispy lamb kebab from the table and handed them to Helena, who was standing to the side with her hands neatly clasped over her lower abdomen.

Helena froze for a moment, a trace of bewilderment flashing through her ice-blue eyes.

She had been ordered to change into this tight, high-slit black cheongsam today, and she had thought she would face endless humiliation and torture from this Eastern man.

In the texts of the Western Holy See, a fallen nun who fell into the hands of a demon usually suffered a fate worse than death.

Yet for the entire evening, not only had Lin Ye not laid a finger on her, but he had even handed her a couple of meat skewers?

“Boss... this...”

She spoke in somewhat stiff Daxia language, not daring to accept them.

“Take them and eat. Why are you dazing off?”

Lin Ye rolled his eyes and shoved the iron skewers into her hand with annoyance.

“Though my Funeral Shop isn't some orthodox righteous sect, I don't have the habit of mistreating my employees.”

“Since you've signed the contract, you're someone covered by me, Lin Ye, from now on.”

Helena stared blankly as she held the lamb skewers wafting with the fragrance of cumin.

She lowered her head to glance at Lin Ye.

At this moment, the man radiated none of that suffocating Pure Yang pressure.

He wore a loose gray hoodie, his brow carrying a casual, lazy street vibe.

“You... you don't view me as a slave?”

Helena bit her lower lip, her voice barely audible.

“Slave? The Qing Dynasty fell a long time ago.”

Lin Ye stretched and teased, “I just saw that your skills are decent and you look intimidating enough, so I kept you as a personal bodyguard.”

“What, did you really want to pour tea and wash my feet for me? I'm afraid your clumsy hands would knock over the washbasin.”

Helena's cheeks instantly flushed crimson all the way to her ears.

The Western Holy See had taught her to be abstinent, self-disciplined, and to dedicate everything to God.

Yet God had abandoned her when she was on the verge of death.

Meanwhile, the man before her, viewed as a heretic, was sharp-tongued and even a bit rogueish, yet he gave her a genuine sense of security she had never experienced before.

“Thank you... Boss.”

Helena murmured softly, taking small bites of the lamb skewers.

The flavor bursting on her tongue, mixed with grease and spices, made her feel that this was ten thousand times more delicious than the highest-grade Holy Communion in the Vatican.

Just as Lin Ye demonstrated his high emotional intelligence, seamlessly soothing his newly hired employee, someone beside them grew dissatisfied.

Frost Star ran over huffily from the opposite side of the stone table.

She plunked herself straight onto Lin Ye's lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and intentionally brushed her silver-blue pigtails across his cheek.

“You're biased! You didn't hand meat skewers to Frost Star with your own hands just now! Are you abandoning me because this foreign woman has big breasts?”

Frost Star's heterochromatic eyes were filled with resentment, looking like a jealous little wife who had spilled a jar of vinegar.

“...”

“...”

This little vixen was getting better and better at flirting.

Before Lin Ye could say anything to coax her,

there was a soft clack.

Leng Yue set the silver knife in her hand down onto the stone table.

She remained seated upright, her moon-white embroidered cheongsam emphasizing her cold, transcendent elegance.

Her dark gold eyes cast a calm glance at Frost Star, her tone unhurried.

“How improper. Is Husband's lap a place you can just sit on as you please? Get down this instant; where are your manners?”

The primary wife had spoken, every word piercing to the heart.

Frost Star pouted aggrievedly. Although she was already at the Corpse King realm, facing the pressure of Leng Yue, a Millennium Drought Demon, she was still instinctively a bit intimidated.

She reluctantly wriggled her waist, preparing to climb down from Lin Ye's lap.

So this was the legendary battleground of jealousy.

Lin Ye clicked his tongue internally.

However, he wasn't the kind of clueless guy who would be completely helpless when facing a harem battlefield.

As a qualified harem master, the skill of balancing the waters had to be fully maxed out.

Lin Ye didn't let Frost Star get down. Instead, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her slender waist, holding her securely on his lap.

At the same time, he turned to look at Leng Yue, a rogueish smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Wife, you are mistaken. If even my own wife can't sit on my lap, then what use do I have for keeping my legs?”

Lin Ye's free hand naturally reached across the stone table and held Leng Yue's cool, slender hand, gently rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Frost Star is still young and lively, so she needs more discipline.”

“However, our Leng Yue has always been elegant and dignified, possessing the air of the lady of the house. You certainly wouldn't lower yourself to compete with a child, right?”

This tactic of “allying with one side while striking the other, while wildly kissing ass on the side” was practically textbook level.

First, he affirmed Leng Yue's absolute status as the main wife, delivering plenty of emotional value.

Then, he defined Frost Star's jealousy as “childish behavior,” subtly dissolving the conflict.

Most importantly, the hand holding Leng Yue's was discreetly tracing small circles under the table.

Such subtle, intimate gestures carried the maximum lethal force.

Leng Yue's gorgeous, previously tense face softened visibly to the naked eye.

Bombarded by Lin Ye's sugar-coated bullets, the frost in her eyes instantly melted into tender spring waters.

“Husband just keeps spoiling her. Sooner or later, you'll spoil her into becoming recklessly bold.”

Leng Yue gave Lin Ye a feigned glare, then turned her palm to intertwine her fingers tightly with his, saying no more.

“...”

Not far away.

Ayugu, who was sitting on the steps gnawing on a cob of corn, watched the whole process with wide eyes and a stunned expression.

She nudged Fatty Wang, who was drinking beer beside her, with her elbow and lowered her voice to complain:

“Fatty, how come I never noticed before that our boss's methods of coaxing women are even more potent than the love gu of Miaojiang?”

“This is practically at the level of a grandmaster scumbag.”

Fatty Wang let out a beer burp and shook his head with a profound expression.

“What do you know? This is called 'strolling through a thousand flowers without a single leaf sticking.'”

“Our boss has grand visions and holds the universe in his palm. You're just a little girl, so pay attention and learn.”

Just as the backyard was filled with a joyful atmosphere,

Clang!

The Eight Trigrams bronze mirror hanging from the door lintel of the Funeral Shop's front hall suddenly let out a crisp, ear-piercing chime.

Immediately after,

the autumn wind, which had been cool and pleasant, instantly ceased to blow.

A bizarre aura dripping with a dense stench of blood and a sacred halo surged backward from the end of Taiping Old Street like a tsunami!

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The dim yellow streetlights on both sides of the old street shattered one by one as if unable to withstand the pressure.

The entire Taiping Old Street instantly plunged into pitch-black darkness where one couldn't see their own hand before their face.

And in the darkness, thick white mist rolled in, mixed with the pungent scent of Western incense.

“They're here.”

Lin Ye patted Frost Star's back, motioning for her to get down.

He stood up, the lazy, rogueish attitude in his eyes vanishing in an instant.

Lin Ye didn't look toward the front hall; he raised his head and looked at the night sky obscured by heavy mist.

“The midnight hour has arrived.”

“It seems our Western guests tonight don't understand the rules very well. They didn't even bother to bring ticket money when going out.”

Helena turned pale; she was familiar with this aura.

This was the [Grand Cross Seal Array] unique to the Inquisition.

“B-Boss...”

Helena's voice trembled, and her hand holding the iron skewers shook involuntarily.

“It's the Blood High Priest named Archimonde! He's brought the Joint Enforcement Squad with him!”

Although she had signed the contract, her deeply ingrained fear of high-ranking priests still made her feel an instinctive despair.

“Holy blood? Purifying heretics?”

Lin Ye sneered.

He casually drew the soul-suppressing copper coin sword from his waist, lightly tapping the blade against his palm.

“Let's go receive the guests in the front hall. I'd like to see whether he purifies me tonight or I deliver him to the afterlife.”

At this moment, on the outskirts of Taiping Old Street...

The vendors from Jiangzhou's underground black market and various rogue cultivators who had originally hidden in the dark, waiting to watch Lin's Funeral Shop make a fool of itself, were now cowering in the corners like quail, not even daring to breathe loudly.

It was horrifying; amidst the thick mist,

twelve Western Paladins clad in heavy silver armor and wielding two-meter-long cross greatswords marched forward in unified steps, stepping onto the bluestone pavement.

Holy light flowed across their armor, instantly vaporizing the surrounding dark yin energy.

And right in the center of the twelve Paladins,

seated upon a black chariot pulled by two ghost horses burning with white flames, sat a handsome man dressed in scarlet robes.

The Blood High Priest, Archimonde!

Archimonde kept his eyes closed, resting his chin on one hand.

The bloody thorny vine wrapped around his wrist emanated a reek of blood.

The chariot came to a halt thirty meters away from the entrance of Lin's Funeral Shop.