Business trip for one and a half months

“Either kill me, or let me go!” Jiang Dongyu glared at the Misty Palace Mistress, as if he would devour her whole.

According to Zhang Heng’s account, during the ancient era, the sect space of the Cauldron Sword Sect housed tens of millions of ordinary people, spread around the seven peaks of the sect. They cultivated spirit herbs, raised spirit beasts, and from among them, the most gifted were selected as disciples.

After landing in Jinghua, he immediately returned home. In truth, Xia Yuan was also injured in this battle, and not lightly at that, but he dared not let outsiders see, lest they end up eaten alive by Xia Yuan himself.

No matter how you put it, she was still righteous. She didn’t withdraw simply because she knew Qin Miao. He understood—most people couldn’t have done this, let alone high officials.

Realizing she had been misled by Ou Yan’s nonsense, Ou Ting felt a headache coming on, but he didn’t intend to explain.

Hearing the commotion, Yang Hao also emerged from the cave. Although Cao Yang was introverted and didn’t like to talk to him, they still had to get along to survive better here—except for someone as twisted as Yang Hao, of course.

“Sir, why did you hurt me?” Xu Feifei immediately put on a wounded, pitiful expression, but paired with her current decaying appearance, it only made people want to retch.

At noon, the sun was high, and a gentle breeze caressed their faces. In the river valley, the fatigue that had accumulated on everyone’s faces was finally swept away. They rose one after another, stretching their bodies and ending their meditation.

Within a range of over ten kilometers, the ground turned into a watery hell, waves of mud surging forth, all lying in wait for Ye Feng to step in.

Unlike Ou Ting, who could keep his composure, Ou Yan grew impatient upon hearing Yu You’s remarks. In his eyes, if Yu You wasn’t prepared, he would inevitably fall behind.

After enduring for so long, Han Lin finally let out his pent-up emotions. He drew the jade flute from his waist, gently caressing it over and over against his cheek. It had once belonged to Ziyan in her lifetime.

“It’s not that I don’t trust him,” Jin Haotian said with certainty, “but every time I want to produce the evidence, my anxious heart tells me—those Americans must have tampered with those two planes.”

The zombie seemed enraged by the interference of the undead. After a long, hard-fought battle with Qi Potian, victory was at hand, only for three zombies to suddenly appear. This infuriated it.

“Study the Eighth Route Army? You mean he wants to acquire what he needs through capturing enemy supplies? Is that even possible?” Xue Liming asked in astonishment.

The two of them pushed with all their might, but the stone door didn’t budge. Soon, both were out of breath, and Xia Yunhuan’s hands had gone numb, the skin between thumb and forefinger flushed red, as if the blood was blocked.

Yet the Dragon Sword in her hand still trembled uncontrollably. She quickly approached Li Yunjue and recounted what she had just witnessed.

Ming Lian and Xin Wu both stared fearfully at the moon, as if the voice was commanding them to go there. But who would dare?

Otherwise he would never treat himself this way. He believed that Yao Qianhe was under someone’s spell, his mind clouded.

Seeing the man’s expression turn from gloom to shock and then fury, Yunhuan was seized by a sense of foreboding.

In the VIP seats, Bai Yunshan relaxed as Han Lin gradually gained the upper hand, slowly settling back into his seat. But this only enraged Staff Officer Li, who had never expected Han Lin to be so skilled, able to hold his own against the general’s Left Guardian.

He ignored me. In fact, when it came to verbal sparring, he always lost, so he shot me a glare and left. Hmph, a defeated general deserves no sympathy. I’ll “drink three hundred cups in one sitting” tonight, since sweet wine isn’t that strong anyway.

Hmph, treating me like a servant girl. Nonetheless, I recited the Water Spirit Mantra as instructed. A jet of water shot out in a perfect arc, landing precisely in the bucket. Liu Qian flicked his finger, sending out a ball of condensed spirit energy, which instantly transformed into a mass of three-colored, blazing flames.

“Brother, there is actually another way, but it’s extremely risky. Of course, I’ll take the risk. If caught, there’s only a dead end.” Xiu Yimis looked at Zhang Tianshun, who was consumed by sorrow, and spoke helplessly.

After a while, Liu Qian grew bored, a new idea flashing through his mind. He was accomplished in illusions, after all—why not use illusion to select a virtual body for himself?

Gong Yuanhe waved his hand. “No need, if you have things to do, go ahead. I have to rise early for my post at the yamen tomorrow as well. Let’s not stand on ceremony.” He took Ming Fei’s hand and left.

Because of this, Zhang Hao could speak as usual without it affecting his “quiet mind,” but the same wasn’t true for Luo Xiu—any stray thought would greatly impact his aura.

A blood-red light flared, and the Grand Elder’s hunched figure straightened in an instant. With a twist of his wolfish claws, a black dagger appeared in his palm, his eyes gleaming with bloodthirst. In this moment, there was no sign of age or frailty about him.

From the lowest succubus to her current station, Masufiya had seen and experienced too much to be bothered by the moon’s mockery.

“I don’t blame you,” Gong Yuanhe sighed, drawing her into his embrace, gently stroking her back. “It’s my fault. Why didn’t I come to meet you? Go on, hit me if it makes you feel better.” He lifted her hand, coaxing her to strike him. Ming Fei, fists clenched tight, refused to comply, only shedding more tears.

At first, they were deeply wary of Nilak’s arrival, but over time, aside from frequent raids, there was nothing unusual about the Lübeck Fortress.

Black clouds rolled, lightning flashed across the sky, and before long, an old man was seen floating in midair.