Volume One, Chapter 47: The Bet

Xuanyuan Tianxin was momentarily speechless upon hearing that, then glanced at Huang Mingyue in embarrassment, understanding the meaning behind the Golden-Winged Roc’s words. To love with unwavering devotion was indeed a virtue, yet it was also a flaw; deep affection easily led one astray in matters of the heart.

A black Maybach slowly pulled up by the roadside. As Lin Xinxin recognized the familiar license plate, her heart settled and she felt inexplicably calmer. Yet in the next moment, anxiety returned—Shen Zhan had arrived. How would she start the conversation with him?

Before Xuanyuan Liyue could grow angry, she gently sat up and pressed her red lips against his cold, imposing ones, her touch tender yet tinged with desperate longing.

Suddenly, Emperor Qin flicked his finger with a thunderous crack. A massive finger-shadow, thick as a joint and bearing clear fingerprints, tore through the air, surging toward Meng Lichen with overwhelming force.

Zhuge Shang was convinced that once he succeeded and absorbed that essence blood, his cultivation would advance dramatically.

A few minutes later, Li Fei led several teammates onto the court, their expressions grave and resolute.

On the raised platform, the person who should have announced the next round’s rules hadn’t even spoken when Nangong Xun and Su Wen stood up together. Seeing them, the middle-aged mentor who was about to speak quietly withdrew.

Perhaps because the day’s events had delighted Lin Xinxin so much, when Shen Zhan kissed her, she didn’t resist as she usually did; instead, she responded with passionate enthusiasm.

“I am Black Tiger One, sent here to kill you!” The shadowy figure altered his voice, and this time Wang Mo’s guess was truly mistaken.

The porcelain bowl was blue-and-white, but crudely painted, its glaze a muddy blue-black tinged with gray—clearly the work of a common folk kiln.

Yet the overseas students from Huaguo suddenly sensed something was amiss, though they couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

County Magistrate Jiang listened intently, catching the meaning—Li Sanzhu was a man of resolve. Even in drought, planting crops at random might yield some hope, but to sacrifice a season’s fertile land for fodder was rare. He also knew it was unrealistic to expect ordinary people to give up such fertile fields.

“Gu Tingchen, I really don’t have the time. Besides, I feel fine now, I’ll just go myself next week.” Xia Youzhi replied patiently.

Dong Yunshu turned and left. She wanted to see Li Hua—she had thought of him for three hundred and sixty-five years, and searched for him just as long.

“Otherwise, why don’t we wait here and see if it moves again?” Father Ye suggested, reluctant to abandon the abalone given its immense worth.

However, when an elder from the Qingyang Sect arrived and fought a fierce battle with a Sky Sword Sect elder, the information was instantly confirmed.

Ren Tianjie and Wang Yin paused in surprise—was he speaking to them? Was he letting them in? Could they enter?

Furthermore, the fishing net, used for long-term catches, was filthy along its lines. Its wound, sliced by the propeller and now constricted by the net, simply could not heal.

As soon as the words were spoken, a faint creak echoed. Both turned their heads. The pitch-black coffin jolted, as if liquid sloshed inside, and they could distinctly hear the sound of water flowing.

By rights, Yan Jinxiu, as Yan Li’s full-blooded sister, should have been closer to her.

“Heaven’s cause and effect?” The sudden phrase startled Li An. He immediately recalled certain events, the threads of consequence weaving together in his mind.

Dao San donned his suit, the injury temporarily hidden by his sleeve. If Liu Yun ever discovered he was hurt, she would surely spend many sleepless nights worrying.

“I heard the Chen family’s second son is cultivating on Immortal Mountain. Could something have happened?” Bai Hongyi exclaimed in surprise.

Thankfully, both had mastered their lightness skills; with a nimble leap, they cleared the towering courtyard wall.

Tai Feng stared intently at Lin Fan, his gaze conveying that this was someone not to be trifled with.

“Oh, your temper—no wonder you get bullied. Never mind, I’ll stick by you from now on.” Gu Sifan added another dish to her plate.

With a thought, he closed the system interface and retreated once more into his sea of consciousness.

As Jiang Tianhao’s aura faded, all prayer beads paused, and the man in black seized the opportunity, instantly crushing five more.

In a rush, Wo Bufan hurried forward, gently touching his mother’s forehead and discovering she was merely briefly unconscious. He lightly pinched her philtrum to revive her.

Suddenly, the demon bound to the cross began shouting loudly at Huo Yun and Pei Yu, his expression wild and frenzied, his voice echoing through the chamber.

Though Shen Xinglou had used the back of his blade, the sheer force was astounding—a one-armed cultivator wielding a broadsword with such might. Even Xie Fengyun, watching from afar, couldn’t help but marvel.

Chen Younian’s soul force erupted, his face twisted with rage as nine purple soul swords materialized behind him.

Looking at the newly arranged battlefield and fully loaded defensive equipment, Lu Jun cleared his throat and nodded slowly, about to deliver words to boost morale.

After much pondering, Duan Lang shook his head. Only by edging closer to the sidelines like Xu He could they hope for victory. Though it was still unclear what Xu He intended, his responses, though hurried, remained methodical; he would likely not be defeated.

He had no doubts about Fan Fenghua’s claim. The reason was simple: Fan Fenghua’s clan once possessed a Chaos Spirit, and even now, they preserved the illusion left behind by that spirit, guarding the Fan family for generations.