45 The Crematorium Awakens

“Since it’s none of those, then you must have wished for a boyfriend,” said Jian Muxi, a little stunned after uttering the words.

If it was built by a great family, then the entrance to the Bridgeworld would mostly be activated by the family’s bloodline.

Of course, this matter couldn’t be rushed; it had to proceed step by step, as there was plenty of time.

“Ha ha,” Wu Ruoqian laughed softly, her spiritual energy swirling as she lightly descended onto the ice. Alongside her landed Su Shao, who was just sheathing his flying sword.

The Champs-Élysées Avenue’s eastern section was dominated by natural scenery; flat lawns stretched on either side, while the western part was a high-end commercial district. World-renowned brands, clothing stores, and perfume shops clustered here, earning it the title of “the most beautiful street in the world.” It attracted countless tourists every year and was truly prime real estate.

A young man, about in his twenties and bearing a typical appearance, stepped out of the car ahead.

“Damn it, you dare hit me? Do you know who I am? Damn it, trying to play hero to save a damsel? I think you don’t want to live,” before Qin Bairuo could finish speaking, Yang En roared furiously.

Suddenly, she seemed to recall something, turned, and hurried after him. She knew her brother’s room was right next door.

After speaking, Ren Tong immediately strode past Wu Ruoqian and the others, heading toward Danjia City. Yet, in his movements, he completely restrained his aura, his figure gradually fading, resembling an ordinary spirit.

The translator hurried over to inform Han Chudong of what had been said, then followed him to the building’s entrance.

Lin Yu listened with a mixture of understanding and confusion. Such matters were mysterious and profound; to digest them all at once was truly difficult.

The two cars turned a corner on the street. By the time Jin Shengzhe arrived, the vehicle had already driven far away.

Though cultivators lived long, their lives eventually reached an end. Inevitably, they could not escape the ravages of time. Only by finding that fleeting chance to ascend could one live as long as heaven and earth, shining alongside sun and moon. But since ancient times, how many had truly achieved this?

To be so familiar with the imperial palace’s layout as to move freely—setting aside any fear of patrolling guards—was a feat ordinary people could never accomplish.

No matter what schemes the other party had, Lin Yu must confront the “King of Sandworms.” Even if there was only a faint chance that it was “that thing,” it was worth the risk. After all, he deeply understood the principle of seeking fortune in danger.

Ye Fei stood with folded arms, smoking quietly, eyes narrowed in contemplation, neither speaking nor intervening.

The world was filled with a sense of age and desolation, heavy and oppressive. It exuded despair, as if the endless flow of time pressed upon the ancient road, the sorrow and weariness of countless ages encircling it.

Huang Qiyun observed carefully and noticed that Lin Yu seemed truly gravely injured, which relaxed his guard somewhat.

A battalion of over three hundred celestial soldiers fell, along with their general, who was slain by Jiang Yun. Meanwhile, the Heavenly Lord Lingxiao was still locked in battle with the Mortal Lord and others over the War Drum of Heaven, unable to assist.

Yet Chen Fugui remained steady in his horse stance, his expression solemn, brows furrowed tightly. His breathing followed a strange, almost eerie rhythm.

The so-called Xuan Sect Hall was essentially a congregation of many masters, each at least possessing the strength of a Xuan Lord. Unless absolutely necessary, the hall seldom involved itself in national wars. This time, the Southern Luo Kingdom had gained their support reportedly by order of the Xuan God.

The men sat on the other side of the hall, but Shen Miaoge was not far from them and overheard the words of the elder lady. Frowning, he glanced over. Since the elders were present, he had no place to speak but only cast a glance at his father, who made no move to respond.

The two had been summoned by Lady Elmeda and General Martin aboard Alliance One. Certain matters were inconvenient to discuss over communications or perhaps could not be fully addressed that way.

“What? Captain?” Captain Clark, puzzled, could not understand why the usually furrowed commander suddenly blurted out those words.

King Ningshan, advanced in years, had weathered countless storms—palatial coups, frontier battles, power struggles—all clear in his sight. Thus, when the words ended here, he understood exactly what Shi Zhongyu wanted him to do.

Who had taught him such a brilliant move was a mystery everyone quietly pondered. Only a few knew that on the day the Crown Prince relocated, King Yu had joyfully handpicked many novel gifts and sent them to Su Zhe’s residence—though in the end, they were not accepted.

“But the Empire’s army never found it, did they? Commander, several days have passed now,” Bruston reminded him.

In the sweep, branches and anything capable of killing locusts were gathered by the soldiers, rushing into the fields, striking frantically at every locust they saw.

In short, nothing would be allowed to involve the Zhao and Zongzheng clans, nor the main courtyard’s people. Preparations were made in advance, so even if others tried to force personnel in, there would be no space—at least, no important space.

In May 1941, the 33rd Division of the Japanese Army stationed in Zhongtiao Mountain joined the battle there. However, a series of sudden strange events brought unprecedented panic to this newly arrived division.

He decisively abandoned the original objective and instead raised himself halfway up as if facing a formidable enemy.

Gong Xuehua, admiring herself, suddenly saw Dou Wei truly stop at a spot by the roadside.

A mass of black clouds approached the floating island, as if the entire sky had been draped in a dark shroud, utterly sunless and bleak.

These troubles never found an end for her; from the moment she met him, she was destined to be plagued a lifetime.

Meanwhile, Miyamoto Mitsuo not only did not retreat but stubbornly extended the withdrawal time. For the Tenjo Kingdom, this was losing both the lady and the soldiers—a case of trying to steal the chicken but losing the rice instead.

Due to its massive size, the tree was heavily targeted. Bathed in black thunder, it looked as if it had been tossed into a wood chipper, now reduced to scattered debris, leaving only half a sweet pig’s face writhing slowly on the ground.

Lily, noticing Que lost in thought, seized the moment to smile softly and slip her arm around the young man’s.

Relations between the Jia family's main and second branches were already delicate. Not only Jia Zheng but even Grandmother Jia found it difficult to manage, wary of accusations of favoritism.