Chapter 81

A punch missed its mark, but following the momentum, he advanced forward, executing a half-step crushing fist. The blow was powerful, swift as a breaking bamboo, aimed straight for Xia Fan’s shoulder.

Moreover, the later the potential blow arrived, the more ferocious it would be. Duan Ye had to remain vigilant and ready with all necessary precautions. Yet, Duan Ye had a trump card up his sleeve; at the most critical moment, he was confident he would not be caught off guard and defeated. This confidence gave him reassurance.

Lu Tianhong nodded without further comment. With a gentle wave of his hand, the six spirit birds unfurled their wings in unison and soared towards the grandest hall in the main camp.

Duan Ye was greeted by enthusiastic applause. In fact, clapping was something the people had been unfamiliar with. But once, after Duan Ye finished a speech, some from the Prefect’s manor started applauding, and though the local gentry below didn’t know the meaning, they instinctively followed along. After all, there was never harm in going with the flow.

Watanabe had a gold watch hidden in his arms. He hoped to bribe the two guards watching over him with this precious object, scheming to escape.

When Zhao Zilong pushed the door open and entered her room, Dong Lianzhu, who had no idea Zhao Zilong was about to undertake a momentous mission in America, took off her earphones.

The supreme spirit stone emitted a faint white glow, swirling with wisps of ethereal mist that enveloped the young man in white robes at its center. He absorbed the dense spiritual energy from the mist endlessly.

Having finished, Murong Qiaoxing smiled faintly, though her smile vanished instantly, her face returning to its icy coldness.

Murong Chui did not rebuke his son for his blunt words; instead, he smiled with delight and nodded. For days, he had personally overseen the battle, while the actual operation had fallen to his beloved son, Murong Bao. This campaign, Murong Bao had fought admirably, advancing and retreating with skill, far exceeding Murong Chui’s expectations.

In the past, under the rule of the Qifu clan, executions were common—almost a daily affair. It was not just beheadings; there were public dismemberments, hangings, and even executions by a thousand cuts or five horses. The people had witnessed it all. They had become thoroughly accustomed, and killing stirred little emotion in them anymore.

Meng Tong screamed wildly, his eyes now nothing but blood-red, fixed unblinkingly on the sky above. The resentment and venom in his gaze were fiercer than ever before—hundreds of times more intense than when he first faced Dan Chen and swore to avenge his brother.

At first, they could not believe it. But when they saw the corpses of their companions who had died with eyes open, realization finally dawned on them.

As Mu Han was flung through the air, a sweet taste rose in his throat. A flash of fury crossed his eyes, but he suppressed his anger and, hands moving rapidly, sent out several flaming spikes in succession.

“What’s the meaning of this? Why are you nodding and shaking your head at the same time?” Ma Xiaoyao asked in confusion.

Mu Han suddenly opened his eyes, his expression unreadable. His pupils contracted slightly, and a look of shock surfaced.

Lin Jing nodded. The Chu family was suppressing matters at court; after all, the Yuan family coveted the Chu family’s martial arts, but with the Yama’s Hand and the Crying Cavern involved, the Chu family would not interfere further.

Countless living creatures fled from the reeds of the marsh, while those unable to escape were instantly consumed by the flames, reduced to ash.

Veins bulged on Wu Yue’s forehead as he wheeled his horse around and bolted out of the ruined princely residence, heading straight for the imperial avenue toward the palace.

“I understand. Since I am going to apologize, I will humble myself,” Xie Qixin exhaled, then strode out of the office.

On the way, remembering that the livestock behind the restaurant’s dormitory would have no time for breakfast, he bought a few meat buns to take along for them.

Mo Wuyin also sat down on the sofa, gave a cold snort, and began drinking from his wine gourd. The aroma wafting from it made You Wuchou’s mouth water.

“Where are you going after leaving Tokyo?” Wu Xuanming sat motionless, as if nothing had happened at all.

This time, however, America had not yet launched a war—not for lack of desire, but for lack of a pretext. In the absence of war, to stimulate economic development, they could only draw resources from countries rich in them.

Wu Xuanming was very curious. He thought this was the time for flowers, but he had never seen fans give a celebrity a watermelon or a basketball. “What’s this?” Wu Xuanming accepted the gift, hefted it in his hand. It was rather heavy—probably a watermelon or something similar.

At that moment, Kang Le seemed to recall something urgent. He turned to Su Ming and said, “Palace Lord, before administering the medicine, I need to perform acupuncture for you. But I don’t have the necessary needles with me…” This left him in a bit of a quandary.

Although Yao Yi did not know exactly what Mr. Wall was plotting, he was almost certain there was a grand scheme at play, hidden so deep that its true face would not be revealed until the very end.

Wu Xuanming was certain he had taken them out before they could pull the trigger, but since these people had come prepared, it was hard to say whether a sniper might be lying in wait somewhere. Open attacks are easy to dodge; it’s the hidden ones that are most dangerous.

At the street corner, an old man was still tending his stall, selling mutton soup. He always stayed late, for the sake of his livelihood, coming early and leaving late. But now, he was preparing to pack up, because his wife was waiting at home for dinner. Thinking of her, the old man broke into a happy smile.