Chapter 80: Desperate Pursuit!

The white mist turned and flew off in another direction. Qin Feng could no longer keep up on foot, so he took to the air himself.

Wang Fat had seen his own alchemists preparing pills, but never had he seen one muttering incantations like Qin Feng.

No one knew how terrified Xin Su was—she truly feared Rong Yi would be cut down by Dongfang Yunlie.

The cold blade pressed against Feng Yunxiao’s cheek; its chill sent a flicker of unease through her.

The hair ribbon, as if endowed with sight, floated gently to Feng Yunxiao’s front. She picked it up and tied it casually around her black hair.

This outstanding figure, whom they both loved and hated—should they court him or shun him? A truly agonizing question.

“General Lin, please speak your mind—no need for formality.” Her voice was gentle, yet tinged with shyness; graceful yet brisk, clearly shaped by military training at the Academy.

Vast amounts of spiritual energy surged forth like a mountain spring. Qin Feng stared, puzzled: he hadn’t shattered these rocks, yet the cauldron now drew spiritual energy from deep within the rock wall—this he could not understand.

No longer pale as before, he now glowed with vitality, his face flushed and ruddy, as if he’d regained ten years of youth.

This wasn’t Zhang Yan boosting the enemy or diminishing his own courage—Dongfang Yunlie was universally known as a formidable opponent; otherwise, how could he be called the War God whose name struck fear into all?

“Master, when we return, we’ll train harder and come out again.” The man whose weapon Wei Xiaodong had taken said.

Luo Yueniang sighed again, glaring angrily at Fang Zheng—this useless bastard, why didn’t he just die?

Shen Xing persisted, and half a year ago, just as his flight nearly crashed, Yan Nianian suddenly realized how precious the person before her was—and finally accepted his proposal. They married, at the cost of the Xia family disowning Yan Nianian forever.

This metropolis was truly different; for the first time, Wei Xiaodong felt the power of the big city. He was now just another office worker, contributing to the city’s development.

“Hehe, Sister Feng, I’ve got more tricks up my sleeve—wanna try?” Fang Zheng grinned mischievously.

Since time was plentiful this time, Wei Xiaodong decided to explore first. Drawing from past experience, he began his journey through the Xuan Ling Realm.

But as he blocked the strike, Gu Chao realized the power behind the white bone spear was immense—roughly the internal energy of a Xiantian Level 10 cultivator. The force knocked him back, his inner qi churning violently. The White Bone Demon, moving faster than a gale, closed in instantly and thrust another white bone spear at him.

If he didn’t love her, why didn’t he pretend more convincingly? Who writes letters to his ex-wife telling her to forget him and wish her happiness?

An Xiaoxiao replied, blinked a few times, her vision clearing, and stopped rubbing her eyes.

These two items hadn’t earned much yet, but their potential was limitless, their profits obvious to all.

Yi Qu smiled lightly behind her hand, knowing Qi Xin had guessed her identity—there was no point in continuing the act.

Zeyan’s cool fingertips brushed across her forehead’s Heavenly Mark; white light flared within her, and a graceful figure emerged above her body—long, flowing black hair dancing in the wind, a flawless, untainted beauty unchanged since two hundred years ago.

As the stone door swung open, a deep, heavy aura burst forth, making the robes of the dozens of Supreme Beings rustle violently.

Ji Zili suddenly stopped, her gaze fixed on the carriage in the center. She felt strange—a sudden, inexplicable sense of familiarity.

He didn’t know why, but he felt this was what he had long awaited—the silhouette he often saw in dreams, the cool touch of fingertips, now finding refuge, filling him with profound peace.

He didn’t see Lang Fanyun’s name, and this struck Tang Feng as odd—and disappointing.

Even as he froze, he sidestepped nimbly; the greasy, green, fleshless mass now lunged onto the spot where Yun Lian had crouched, green rot dripping from its body, half its face sliced away and dangling from the skull.

This story filled me with dread: if the rumor were true, Wu Xiaoyi was the reincarnation of Chen Shimei—cold-blooded, worse than an animal.

“Could she be spreading false rumors to lure buyers?” The thought suddenly struck me.

He had never desired this world—if Mo Yujing possessed the breadth of vision and talent to govern, he would never have been driven to this brink.

But at that moment, she had no strength left, and simply sat down on the tatami beside the window.

Xiao Yichen didn’t even glance at her—he walked straight toward the airport exit. Ye Moxing hurried after him, pushing her luggage.

She felt confused, turned to look at MacLeary. MacLeary gave her a knowing smile.

As for superiority, it depends on how smoothly they fight—if they flow well, their combat power soars.

Yi Qu thought Wang Young Master would be here, and Master Wang occasionally came too, so coming in the morning and returning in the afternoon was fine.

In the quiet, empty office, Lin Cha and Qin Mojiang sat together, a meal laid out on the low table.

Moreover, during pregnancy, due to hormonal changes, one inevitably feels their complexion is radiant—pink, fresh, glowing.

Otherwise, rumors would spread: Jiang family isn’t the only one with this relative—Huan family has more than one connection too. Yan family—aren’t they related to Prince Ping?

On the white walls, the red handprints left by interviewers were startling. Under the pale fluorescent light, they looked like the bloodied palms of trapped spirits slapping against the walls of a practice room.

Shen Sisi hadn’t finished speaking when Mo Yang cut her off. He glanced at Xiao Yichen, startled by his fierce aura—even he felt a tremor in his chest, yet his proud expression remained unchanged.