Chapter 39: May All Your Wishes Come True

A pheasant flew out from behind a tree, intending to cross the path and reach another patch of grass, but was unexpectedly spotted by the five people as it passed overhead.

Sensing that something was wrong, it abandoned its original plan and darted back behind the tree, vanishing from sight.

Fang Baisong followed close behind. He first emptied his basket, then hurried into the woods behind the tree.

Tong Lingxian bent down, picked up a stone, and ran around from the other side to cut off its escape. She circled behind the woods and drove the pheasant toward—

Fang Sheng was just about to say something when, with a casual glance, he caught sight of Xingzhu standing behind Tang Feng, her face almost deathly pale.

Once the sword force reached the seventh level, every strike that landed on flesh would leave a deep wound. Under the impact of the sword aura, the dense Ember Shadow scattered in all directions, like a mass of dying fire suddenly struck apart.

Forget the oppressive might of the Tyrannosaurus and the Dragon God—even the pressure radiated by the many divine clans would be more than enough to overwhelm them.

Who told you to sit in the number-three position? After Donghai and Huang Shangxun’s performances, everyone will be able to see the difference between you quite plainly.

“If we can’t find Lin Li, I don’t want to be frozen into an ice pillar by the person I once kidnapped.” Heatwave drank his beer and watched several people busily working in the control room, speaking in an unhurried tone.

But there was nothing they could do. Although everyone cared about their friendship with him, each of them had suffered losses that were simply too great.

“Hmph! What you call cooperation is nothing more than an attempt to make me shield you from all those dangers. I told you long ago—this is a threat, not cooperation!” Zhuang Lan shouted angrily.

With Fang Sheng present, even the most bizarre Crimson-Blood Nether Spirit would probably be helpless before him, reduced to prey for the slaughter.

It was not until the Ming army launched its general assault, when hundreds of lead bullets swept over them like a huge net, that these people finally came to their senses. They looked around in confusion, searching for the enemy who had fired upon them.

“That trick again? It won’t work!” The dull-witted young man curled the corner of his mouth. Raising his right claw, he used a grappling technique to strike at Sun Wei’s elbow.

With her hair loose, and after the girl had applied hair conditioner to it, Song Yiyi, somewhat drowsy, lay down to sleep in an undershirt made of Songjiang trilobed cloth.

After shouting, Gu Meng stared wide-eyed at Guan Chenji, utterly fearless. In his heart, Li Zelu did not know how many times he had applauded Gu Meng.

Just then, a sudden bang rang out. The vehicle in which they were sitting was struck with tremendous force, and the entire car jolted violently to one side.

Da Niu was furious, but he understood the principle that killing meant paying with one’s life. This was unlike the previous night, when the victims had been Jurchens.

Zhuo Qingkong kept pondering the meaning behind Helan Jue’s words. Lost in thought, he naturally failed to notice the cold glint that flashed through Helan Jue’s eyes.

Su Meng had been delighted to find her relatives, but on closer consideration, she suddenly felt that one mystery after another still lay before her, waiting to be explored and uncovered.

Yue Yun was very pleased to see that Yue Fei liked them. After all, these men were his sworn brothers.

Although he could disguise his pulse as that of someone suffering from digestive trouble, given Su Meng’s medical skill, she would certainly discover the problem after enough time had passed.

A somewhat familiar voice sounded, carrying a hint of languor. Song Yiyi frowned and turned her head. Sure enough, she saw a figure she had no desire to encounter: a man dressed in a silver-blue, round-collared robe with narrow sleeves, his hair bound beneath a silver crown. His narrow chin and thin lips curved faintly, giving him a cold, unfeeling air, while his slightly peach-shaped eyes were irresistibly alluring and possessed an uncanny, sinister charm.

Beneath the corridor lamp, a cold gleam flashed across the Yuanji Sword. Zhao Xingchen thrust his sword forward, and a burst of blood exploded in the empty air. A ghost ninja materialized, clutching his chest as he staggered backward two steps before leaning against the wall and sinking down. He stared at Zhao Xingchen in terror, breathing hard.

Fortunately, there were neither too many nor too few of them. At that moment, the Divine-Power King was already standing shoulder to shoulder with it. On the side of the human cultivators, Bao Tian sent Zhao Chengfeng, Xie Chunyang, Nangong Qinyin, Lan Jingru, and Gu Debai—the five of them. The rest were all early-stage Nirvana cultivators and had no need to take the field.