Volume One, Chapter 105: Chen Lirong's "Warning"

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, the end of the year had arrived.

In the past few months, everything remained as it always had.

This winter in the capital was particularly bitter and cold.

While Murong Ping was slaughtering civilians to replenish his essence, he saw the monk Bu Bei launch another attack. Murong Ping sneered inwardly, still adhering to his strategy of fighting while retreating, refusing to confront Bu Bei head-on.

Perhaps so. Mao Leyan took a deep breath, then sighed softly. To love not at all was best; if it were possible, she wished not even for a flutter of the heart. She had entered the palace solely to uncover the traitor within; everything else should have nothing to do with her.

At first, Heavy Sword had been unconcerned, merely acknowledging that Micro Ant’s abilities were decent—no more, no less, hardly extraordinary.

Floating Water noticed their hesitation, and a trace of bitterness and disappointment appeared on her face. She quietly knelt down and fell silent.

At that time, Long Shaoyan must have been lucid, yet he said to her, “My dear, I love you.”

The person before him was no Helan Yao. Long Shaoyan wasted no words; he gathered his technique and summoned icy water, pouring it straight onto Ji Tong’s head.

If they were expelled and his mother imprisoned, it would bring shame not just to their family, but to their entire unit.

Those three net bags held not only meat and chicken, but also canned fruit, luncheon meat, malted milk, and powdered milk.

The silver needle gently pierced the skin, and a droplet of blood welled up. The needle was instantly soaked in crimson, and after a moment, Mao Leyan withdrew it. The needle, once gleaming coldly, now shimmered pale blue.

“Yes! Teng Fei is truly reckless, daring even to capture officials!” Ji Cangyu exclaimed.

Wang Zhicheng wailed, but with something stuffed in his mouth, not a single word could escape.

At this moment, as endless armored soldiers and citizens cried out, golden light uncontrollably overflowed from Ji Fa’s body, then coalesced into a three-clawed golden dragon that perched above his head.

After all, even Minister Huang Cheng himself was uncertain whether what they were investigating truly existed.

When Wu Wei heard the Barbarian King declare that he would reseal the Dragon God, he recalled the succubus’s warning. Though he remained skeptical, he felt deep down that the succubus had not lied.

This is one of the reasons for the innate pride in so many people—why can humans succeed where other creatures cannot?

Every one of these stories was steeped in legend. Zhao Heng, angered at first, was drawn in by the tales and listened tensely to Chen Ao’s recounting, saying nothing.

Princess Iron Fan had not seen Red Boy in years. Today, upon meeting him, she was overjoyed: holding him close one moment, cupping his cheeks for a careful look the next, so much so that Red Boy became bashful.

Suddenly, Chen Ao remembered the two missing monks, the heads of the Dharma Hall and Arhat Hall. Surely monks like them could not lack spirit. If they lent a hand, it would be as if Jing Xiang himself intervened. Yet for some reason, he had not seen them here.

If one had to sum up his mood in a single phrase, it would be that he no longer wished to answer the phone.

In these days, she had assumed the demeanor of a victor, appearing on countless shows and accepting endless interviews.

More and more martial artists realized what was happening, slashing at surrounding cavalry, then mounting horses themselves; those who couldn’t snatch a horse squeezed two or three to a steed.

“You’re still young—keep training,” Si Yun said calmly, seated with an air of indifference.

How can a person live without the seven emotions and six desires? Take Zhou Xingxiao: serene and ascetic, seemingly admirable, but within, he was empty.