Chapter 62: The Palace Masters, All Eager to Take Feng Chen as Their Disciple

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"Hey, Uncle Gong, I've arrived in Paris." Tuanzi flashed a sweet smile, dragging her suitcase as she walked outward.
He was terrified of letting cleverness outwit him, causing Siyan to harbor resentment against him from then on, and making his already bumpy romantic path even more rugged.
"However... to think you couldn't even handle a single ghost-corpse, and you still call yourself a practitioner of the Dao. Hah, not putting in the effort? Even wild Taoist priests are better than you~" In the end, his master just had to deliver one last sarcastic kick.
The Tibetan man leaped into the air, his figure vanishing instantly before reappearing just as suddenly. In a fraction of a second, his figure and the shadows of his blades were everywhere. The intense chill forced the surrounding people to retreat continuously.
"Those are just some cowardly demons. Don't lump me, Jung, together with them," the swordfish-man named Jung said, shaking his head dismissively.
The trio of police officers, the moment they burst into the room, witnessed a hair-raising scene that grossly violated social values.
"This is simply killing me. I even feel like I've returned to my earliest days at school, completely clueless about the content on the blackboard," Yang Ji deliberately put on a display of just the right amount of anguish.
There were no towering, densely packed skyscrapers here. Flanking the neat and wide streets were pleasing eaves and bracket sets, wooden houses, stone bridges, and babbling streams, interspersed harmoniously with modern architecture. Against the backdrop of maple trees woven in brilliant shades of golden yellow and fiery red, they formed an unprecedented urban panorama.
Blade Shadow was confident; no one in the world of cultivation would dare not to take this warning seriously. Coupled with Shang Le's current realm, even if another ordinary Nascent Soul expert were to show up, they wouldn't necessarily be able to gain the upper hand.
The saying "when unusual things happen, there must be a demon" was manifested right now by Su Qin, who had quite familiarly taken a seat beside me, and by the look of it, seemed to harbor the possibility of continuing the conversation in depth.
"Sun Wukong, you damned monkey! This emperor has no grievances with you in the past or present; how could you come up with such a method to deal with this emperor? Don't you ever fall into this emperor's hands, or I'll pluck every last hair off your body!" the Feather Emperor roared furiously.
Seeing his father's happy expression, Murong Bao was equally delighted. It seemed his recent hardships had not been in vain; his father was showing him more and more appreciation. As long as he could capture Yecheng, he would be the primary contributor to the restoration of the imperial capital, and once his father officially ascended the throne, his position as crown prince would be secured beyond a doubt.
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The shadow of the blade collided with the shadow of the staff, producing a heaven-shaking, earth-shattering roar that even caused the figures of Nezha and the other two below to sway from the shockwaves. The result was clear: the second clash ended in a draw once again.
That person's footsteps were light, very light—so light as to be almost inaudible. But by now, Duanye's senses had become exceptionally sharp, allowing him to perceive things almost without relying on hearing. Although the person was clearly trying to suppress the sound of their footsteps, for Duanye, it was all in vain.
"Yaoguang Soars, Three-Step Lotus." Before Chang'e could even ask, Yang Lian had already darted toward the youth, conjuring three gigantic lotus flowers that closed in to envelop him.
With a single long sword, Long Wentian had driven Yanyu back against the matrimony vine tree. If he delivered ten more strikes, Yanyu would undoubtedly die beneath his sword. Just as he was feeling pleased with himself, he suddenly heard the sound of rushing wind from behind. Without time to turn around, he thrust his long sword backward to parry, exchanging a dozen blows with the sword in A Shui's hand before finally turning his body to lunge at A Shui.
Yet he remained unafraid. After all, ever since the incident at Hepingtang, he had stood guard by Dong Lianzhu's side almost every day. The probability of the events Akimoki Yoshiko spoke of happening was practically zero. If such a thing were to happen, there could only be one explanation: he was already dead.
He cared nothing for any of this, crying out gloomily on the one hand, "Step aside!" while charging inward with A Shui in his arms. Fortunately, he did not unleash his demonic arts; otherwise, those commoners wouldn't even have been enough for him to slaughter.
However, no other unusual occurrences happened after that. Of course, several divine senses swept past him; Zheng Zhou knew that these divine senses were merely routine patrols by nearby cultivators.
Zhao Zilong never expected that he merely wanted to vent a bit of pent-up frustration in his heart and simultaneously curry favor with Dong Lianzhu, yet it could cause such a massive commotion.
Yet the moment he fell to the ground, he saw a character flash across the jade stele—the character for "kill." He was certain he had not misread it this time.
It would have been fine if Wang Yaqiao hadn't spoken, but his words only made Xie Tian and A Cheng—whose judgment was clouded by their intense concern—even more perplexed. Xiao Shan, however, grasped the meaning behind Wang Yaqiao's words. A flash of brilliant light crossed Xiao Shan's eyes, as if a door had been unlocked in a flash of insight by Wang Yaqiao's words, prompting him to say with a self-deprecating laugh.
As the vanguard camp rounded a mountain peak, Meng Huming saw a scout with a back-banner galloping swiftly toward them from ahead.
"Hehe, our great diva, if I'm not mistaken, you just seemed utterly entranced listening to someone else sing," Huan Meng'er said, looking at her with a half-smile.
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Tong Lei and Old Tong were startled. Su Zheng immediately stopped the ox-cart and looked back, only to see a package wrapped in gray silk lying on the cart.
Yet he could not refuse Bai Ping's reasonable request, nor did his subconscious mind wish to refuse. After a moment of thought, he agreed.
He could no longer stay. If he stayed any longer, the one to meet such a fate would undoubtedly be himself.
As for "chumao," it wasn't bloody, but rather sickening—it was the initial shaving of hair after a baby's birth, utilizing the cysteine found within the hair to bake pastries.
Those two men were also brimming with fierce momentum, shouting wildly as they whirled their Guan Dao broadswords into a solid wall. Accompanied by a few miserable screams, two soldiers wearing military overcoats who failed to dodge in time were hacked down to the ground, blood spraying instantly in all directions.
Right beneath an outcrop where four kiln-cave entrances connected, Huang Qi halted his footsteps, looking upward with a complex expression.
"Then will you go back to being the Sausage Emperor? From now on, sausages in the Sun Moon Empire can only be sold by you!" Ma Hongjun joked, and the others burst into laughter.
"This is..." Jūshirō Ukitake's expression turned extremely solemn, as his worst possible speculation came true.
Meanwhile, Olaf on the opposite side was clinging to him, constantly using the dual slow effects of his Red Buff and Q ability to drive him into the desperate abyss of death.
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