Chapter 131: The Portrait

Bai Huan hurriedly looked around, but there was nothing in the room to ward off the fire. Outside the door, the flames flickered, and the burning wood crackled loudly. Fueled by oil, the fire spread ferociously, quickly encircling the morgue.

In this life-or-death moment, there was no time to think of anything else.

Thump. Something rolled to her feet. She looked down.

A pair of gray, bloodshot eyes were staring right at her.

"Ah..."

Bai Huan screamed instinctively, her voice trembling as she stared at the corpse.

In an instant, everyone at the scene shuddered violently, looking toward Chu Yan with faces full of horror.

Nominally, it was an educational platform, so the first piece of learning content was related to the act of learning itself: how to improve one's learning ability at work.

The higher-ups of the Legion had already discussed the matter; as soon as Li Changlin accepted the Legion’s decision, they would immediately contact the Wuyah live-streaming platform and reset Li Changlin’s wealth points to zero.

At this rate, before the masters of Youlong Mountain and the Heaven Treasure Sect could arrive, they would all be dead here.

As the electrical shock struck, a feeling of numbness and fatigue spread through Song Ming’s entire body, and his movements began to slow.

Countless astonished gazes were fixed on Chu Yan’s lightning-fast figure, filled with various speculations and deep confusion.

It was truly formidable; at the very least, they had yet to figure out the structure of this barrier. It was rather advanced. Logically speaking, given their understanding of space, how could they have failed to find it?

Although he rarely killed, he couldn't possibly endure having all his supplies, money, and resources stolen clean, could he?

The fatty also excitedly described how he had built the bamboo house and how he had put on a show for the cameras of the Imperial Propaganda Department.

Shui Menghua’s cultivation was only at the Half-Step Chuitian stage, while Song Ming had already reached the peak of the Chuitian realm. Furthermore, shrouded in seven-colored light, she did not immediately recognize the familiar face of Song Ming.

Su Jin exuded the aura of a successful individual, the kind of social elite that ordinary students like them rarely encountered.

The green light approached with lightning speed, arriving in the blink of an eye. Chang Ming’s heart rate spiked, and he felt the impending danger, yet he was powerless to deflect it.

Chu Zihang thought for a moment and did not refuse. After telling Su Xiaoqiang to stay close to him, he followed along.

Fang Qi grabbed the reins with one hand, pulled her hand away from the horse, and wiped it against his own clothing. He then clasped her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers, refusing to let her touch the horse again.

A Duke could maintain a private guard of two hundred men; a Marquis or a First-Rank Earl, one hundred and twenty; a Second-Rank Earl, one hundred; a Third-Rank Earl, eighty; a First-Rank Viscount, sixty; a Second-Rank Viscount, forty; a Third-Rank Viscount, twenty; and all remaining First, Second, and Third-Rank Barons were limited to twenty men each.

In the afternoon, Grandmother Jia sent Yuanyang to the Qin residence to invite the siblings over for the New Year's Eve dinner. She was kind-hearted after all; although she did not particularly care for her, the thought of Lady Qin losing her father-in-law, mother-in-law, and husband all in one night made her pity the woman. Fearing she might be overwhelmed by sorrow or even driven to despair, she hoped to bring her over to offer some comfort.

However, because the distance between An Town and Dawa Village was quite short, it was still very convenient for Qu Zhaodi if she wanted to go home to take care of her parents.

The shells fired from the 40mm autocannon detonated the exploding spiders that had gathered in small clusters ahead of time.

Determined to make that academy pay, she had leveraged the connections of her parents and her grandfather in Europe to investigate the institution. The result was the same as what Chu Zihang had encountered: other than a homepage, there was nothing at all.

Caesar was stunned, clearly not expecting this guy to choose such a moment to discuss the meaning of life with him.

Jin Yunmo shrugged. Qi Lin’s mother was British and the chairwoman of a famous British enterprise, and his father, Qi He, held an even more indescribable status in Germany. Should one call him individualistic or just plain foolish for walking away from all that?