Chapter 188: A Layer of Mist Covers the Immortal Alliance (1.03W Requesting Monthly Votes)

Gu Family Tea House, the Special Envoys of the Immortal Alliance were clumsily inquiring about news from the West Sea.

Jin Mingdu was sensible and well aware they could not extract any critical or direct information from Gu Family Tea House, a fact dictated by the tea house’s own neutrality.

But she also knew well how to unite fellow cultivators, so she left the spotlight to Lian Chengxian.

“Chengxian, young friend, look—this is the correspondence we’ve collected from the West Sea Immortal City’s appointed cultivators.”

As he thought, his body trembled slightly; Gao Haoran sensed it too and faintly curled his lips.

“Pfft~” Hearing the Divine Blood’s words, Cheng Tian said no more; from the tone, the current predicament was certainly not fatal, or else Divine Blood would never joke like this.

She had never imagined her elder brother would marry someone else; she had always believed he would stay by her side forever.

Others might still be unclear how things had developed between her and this man, but she knew perfectly well—by now, he had already claimed her as his possession.

Since the sky offers no purchase, all fist techniques must be rooted in the earth to have room to pivot; otherwise, one ends up like this—nowhere to dodge, nowhere to evade.

Soon they arrived—a carefully arranged open space. Human-forms sat at tables, presumably of higher status; behind them, only a few had taken human shape, most remained half-human, half-dolphin.

“Of course, look who you’re talking to—who could possibly beat me?” Yi Xin, praised, became boastful and began extolling his own prowess.

“I don’t touch others. As for Ouyang Nana, I’ve already notified Long Yan—it’ll bring her back to the space shortly. You can lie down now.” Sha Qianye spoke coldly.

The female bird was at her weakest now; the male bird, too, felt regretful, but faced with this scene, he was utterly powerless.

Eighteen and twenty—though only two years apart—should show clear differences in appearance and demeanor, just as a thirteen-year-old still looks like a child, but a sixteen-year-old has already begun to mature; even within three years, the change is as vast as heaven and earth.

Truly, just imagining filming a drama with Zaozao—even if the quality was poor—thinking of how, when they grew old, they could sit together watching it, or even with their children, reminiscing about those days, Wei Xiao felt a strange sense of anticipation and excitement.

Qin Jinyu wondered which street con artist had spread the rumor about “Prisoners of the Underworld,” but he dared not show it on his face.

Once he used this bland, suggestion-style phrasing, Xize would immediately understand: this was Ah Shi’s absolute limit.

Huai Zhen didn’t dare move. She couldn’t help thinking: I should’ve gained more weight—then my thighs would’ve had some flesh, and he wouldn’t have been so uncomfortable.

So, until the very end, he would not compromise with his family—he wanted to keep walking this path of performance.

Huai Zhen’s gaze dropped to his lips—beautifully shaped, slightly curved, perfect for kissing. Reddish from their earlier kiss, almost absurdly so, especially his lower lip, brutally rubbed by her teeth, as if it might bleed.

There had once been a tall hill, its white tombs stacked in neat rows, tier upon tier, resembling from afar a desolate city of dense white skyscrapers.

The two held hands and raced down the slope, laughing loudly on Sacramento Street, drawing several hostile glares from white tourists.

Qiu Yue helped Xiao Yan onto the bed, tucked her in, and watched her fading complexion; a sharp pain pierced her heart, and out of nowhere, an ancient verse came to mind: “Fair faces, more gifted than others, often meet early doom—don’t blame the east wind; blame yourself.”

The Divine Eye did his best to mask any expression, though inwardly he believed Baixue and the others were already dead—he was merely soothing the imminent rage of Zhao Xiaochen.