Chapter 62: The Bow (1)

Both parrots regarded him with utmost seriousness, leaving him unable to tell which one had been teasing him just now. He could only stare intently at them, trying to discern the culprit.

Peng Jianyang followed instructions, kneading the dough until it was smooth and glossy, then placed it in a bowl, covered it with a layer of plastic wrap, and set the steel basin containing the dough to one side of the bar counter.

Though he was not as dazzlingly successful as Lin Zixuan at present, among the rising stars, there were few who could compare with him. If one compared available capital and returns, the gap was not significant. But Lin Zixuan, after all, held more funds and managed a larger operation, making it far more difficult to maintain high returns.

Gao Yao remained silent. She knew she was insignificant, that nothing she did—no matter if she risked her life in exchange for Meng Ankai’s—could ever make up for it. Yet what could she do? If Meng Ankai were to die, she would follow him.

Li Xiang sat on the sofa, turning his head to take in the furnishings of the living room—a typical, unremarkable home, with nothing of great value, the furniture even somewhat old and worn. Even the television was a flat model, the kind that, once broken, could no longer be repaired anywhere.

Who would have thought that the most prominent figure of Qingyun would be struck down by a single competition, left unable to even get back up? Thankfully, there was no one nearby to witness it, or, given his pride, he would have instantly become a laughingstock of epic proportions.

Shirley’s hometown was Huazhu Township in Guangnan, a place renowned for its athletic achievements, having produced two Olympic champions and three national champions.

Zheng Anmin did not finish his sentence, but Zhu Pingjin already understood: he was volunteering to take charge of the Firearms Bureau, to shoulder the blame and shield Zhu Pingjin from responsibility.

The Office of Protocol, subordinate to the Ministry of Rites, was responsible for receiving guests from abroad—essentially equivalent to the Protocol Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Zhu Pingjin’s previous life.

Upon a high mountain, nine hundred and ninety-nine steps stretched across like a natural barrier, appearing before the crowd. Beside them, a stone stele bore the inscription: “A Step to the Azure Skies.”

The power of a single Church already surpassed that of Longfeng. Add to that the combined might of Fengyun and Yunyang, two of the three great empires, and there would be no need for any scheming; sheer numbers alone could overwhelm the isolated Longfeng. Why would they need to resort to subterfuge?

That face, usually so cold and rigid, finally collapsed, giving way to a myriad of emotions and a captivating radiance.

She got up, gently stroked Tiantian’s face and hair, then sat down and clasped Tiantian’s hand tightly.

Li Ziqi, seeing George’s polite demeanor, smiled and said, “My name is Suzuki Ziqi, and this is my father!” With that, she pointed at Suzuki.

After casting the light shield, the maid bowed and said, “Elders and guests, please enter the Water-Repelling Pearl.” Once the maid had spoken, the middle elder stepped inside.

Lei Dalang stood there, stupefied, letting the wind and snow beat and bury him, unable to fathom how such sinister and unfathomable evil could exist in this world.

Chu Lian was slightly taken aback; her almond-shaped eyes flickered as she pulled the blanket higher to cover her ears, trying to block out the bothersome sound of the rain.

Lin Fenghuang rose and walked outside. Seeing her about to collapse, Bai Yuxiang hurriedly reached out to support her. Turning her head, she saw Tong Niu’er propping his chin in his hand, staring blankly in this direction, a sheen of tears glimmering in his eyes—she knew his heart must be aching as well.

Yet, whatever was in Madame Zou’s mind, at this moment Chu Lian was indeed the last hope for Old Lady He and the Jing’an Marquis household. Even the old lady’s eyes shone with anticipation whenever she looked at Chu Lian.

Ziyun, acting simultaneously, was even more extraordinary. She spat out a single seed, which, astonishingly, sprouted and grew at once. In just a few breaths, countless vine tendrils thick as arms twisted toward the Yin-Yang Flood Dragon.

After their great victory, the Qin army gave the Han forces little chance to recover. Tens of thousands of light cavalry bypassed the Zhang River and charged straight into the heart of Zhao. The defeated Han troops were powerless to resist, so the Qin army swept through, capturing Dongyuan and Julu in quick succession, their blades pointing directly at Handan.

The Fifth Battalion had always been the underdog in the Right Army’s competitions, but this time, thanks to Han Xin’s extraordinary performance, not only did they take second place, they also defeated the three-time reigning champions. No wonder the soldiers were elated, striding out with heads held high.

“Hmph, do you two really think you can escape?” Lu Ming said coldly, staring at them.

“Why do you want to kill me and my brother?” she asked, pressing her fingertip ever so slightly, causing the skin on Xu Rijing’s neck to break.

“Brother Lu Ming, was it for my sake that you struck Mo Fei with your sword just now?” Lin Ruyan gazed thoughtfully at Lu Ming, her limpid eyes shimmering with a trace of tears.

Baili Aoyun, Han Ning, Zhiyu, and Zhou Tie all looked ashen; their one careless moment that morning had let Xi Duoduo fall into the hands of the Grand Empress Dowager.

Looking at the Three-Eyed Divine Monkey, Qin Yi was taken aback. “You…have broken through?” Not long ago, when he first entered the Myriad Demon Realm, the monkey’s cultivation had only reached the peak of the Undying stage. He did not expect that in less than a year, it would break through to the Great Ascension stage.

Qin Yi took out a red pill and fed it to Zhang Shaocong, then raised his right palm. A hazy white light, laced with a faint bluish glow, seeped slowly into Zhang Shaocong’s body.

With cultivation comparable to the late Supreme Immortal stage, Qin Yi faced three Undying stage cultivators who were utterly no match for him, unable to withstand even half a move.

Suddenly, a piercing shriek burst from the Nether Sword, clearly showing that the sword had become sentient and could understand Lu Ming’s words.

“It’s nothing. I just thought of something—although we’ve shaken off the pursuers behind us for now, I fear there may be ambushes near Turtle Island. Can we really just charge in?” Ishihara’s expression returned to calm, but his tone was full of worry.

Honestly, it really didn’t need to be so complicated. Just burn the talisman, dissolve it in water, and drink—it would work. But for the sake of advertising, I needed the visual effect, so I played around with some acrobatics for a while. By this point, Liu Tian and his son were already stunned, their mouths agape wide enough to fit a fist.

High above the shattered Evil Soul Island, thousands of fire crows suddenly appeared, spewing endless solar flames that engulfed all those locked in furious battle. They were none other than Zhang Zhiping’s long-unseen Dao soldiers: the Fire Crow Sun Warriors.

Especially in schools across the country, both junior and senior high, the news spread rapidly. Within a week, it had sparked heated discussions among students nationwide.

On closer acquaintance, he didn’t seem so cold. Ever since he stopped mistaking me for Yuxuan, I found him to be a decent friend—at least he was reliable, if not talkative.

“The horses’ hooves gradually slowed; Song Qing pressed his back against the tree trunk, not daring to breathe for fear of betraying his hiding place.

Ding Linglin let out a gentle sigh and said, “Whose orders are you following?” The yellow-clad men said nothing more, their faces set, and one by one they filed into the hall where the wedding feast was laid out.