Chapter Seventy-Seven: Delivering the Message
The Duantian Tower of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau was not far from the Crispy Fragrance Pavilion, and as the carriage moved leisurely along, Luo Xiaoning’s fortune-telling session was almost at its end when they arrived.
Pei Xiunian nearly choked on his water at the pun, and then it struck him that such things did not exist in this world—or perhaps they simply went by another name.
Luo Xiaoning assumed he was puzzled as to how she could be connected to Jiang Yunhe. In truth, even the young Sima herself found it all rather baffling. She simply shrugged and said, “Divining signs is all about observing the celestial phenomena.”
Seeing the situation, Ma Kun hurriedly snatched up the fallen Rakshasa Sword from the ground, mustering all his strength to block the incoming blow. Sparks flew from the blade, sending a sharp, numbing pain through his arm, and the treasured sword nearly slipped from his grasp.
Ming Yuexin walked to the window. Rain and cold wind rushed in, and she was soon lost in deep, endless thought.
Every channel on television now played only one thing: the RR virus. To date, more than three hundred million people worldwide had perished because of it.
At last, that reddish-brown sign appeared squarely in his field of vision. Fortunately, it was not mounted too high, making it easy for Jiang Cheng to spot.
The knights all responded in unison, while the bloodkin stood in stark contrast beside them. The deadly aura radiating from the knights guarding the investigation party filled the bloodkin with instinctive hesitation and unease.
These were the wolf cavalry—unique to the Aetol and Mott clans living in the silent mountain ranges. They were nightmares in the forest and could fight large-scale battles on open ground.
“Your Majesty, there’s an unusual commotion at the left viewing port!” A silver shrimp nearly a hundred meters long darted like lightning to the queen’s side to report urgently. The bloodworm tribe, allies of the silver shrimp, were currently in charge of that port.
On one of the capital planet’s moons, craters abounded, its dull surface exposed. There was no air, not even the faintest trace of mist. The Oma was docked in a valley below, connected in a rather indecent coupling with the previous spacecraft, their hatches pressed together.
Two spear-throwing ballistae fired at Li You’s vital points in an instant. His pupils contracted, and clutching his father tightly, he dodged aside, not caring that there was a cultivator nearby—he crashed into the man, sending him sprawling. Li You wasted no time, stomping hard on the downed cultivator’s dantian, crippling his cultivation with one blow.
After speaking, Zhou Tian smiled, brushed aside a trace of melancholy, and set off, deciding to bid farewell to old friends.
Watching the changes in Xing Ruyan, Yanwu thought to herself, “This is bad, fire poison!” Recalling the blood she had infused into Xing Ruyan, Yanwu knew exactly what was about to happen.
Su Mu’s long silver-white hair was unforgettable to Li Mingxue. She remembered clearly that after Su Mu returned alone from gathering medicinal herbs, something had changed. She wasn’t sure what danger he’d encountered, but from then on, Su Mu’s jet-black hair had turned silver-white. Beneath the mask, his face was still that of a young man, forever on the cusp between day and night.
“What right do you have to stand here, ‘Demon Arbiter’ of the Nanjiang tribe?” Nan Ying said calmly to Meizhao Ling.
That was simply how Mei Zhuang was. She had only met Ye Ge once and barely exchanged a few words, yet she always felt a strange impulse to give him everything. It was inexplicable—how could two strangers passing by each other evoke such emotion?
The familiar sight before her eyes was still the Jiuyou Abyss, nestled within the great protective array of the Tianyou Underworld Sect. Occasionally, some charming spirit beasts would flit over, winding themselves around Su Mu’s arm in expressions of joy.
No one dared utter another word. Lin Xiaoxia was already furious. Her rise to the position of Grand Chancellor was testament enough to her formidable strength.
There was a shared sense of pain and sorrow, though none of it was shown outwardly.
Zhou Tian drew back his fist, shook out his hand, and the flames that had wreathed it vanished. Still, his fist remained fiery red. Frowning, he blew on his seared hand and spoke.
On the Sword Peak, clouds drifted, immortal energy swept the air. It was the hour of dawn; the air was moist, and simply walking among the flowers and grass atop the mountain, her thin gauze skirt was hardly enough to ward off the chill of the wind.