Chapter 242: Epilogue — My name is Master Mangxiang, an old man living alone, and lately I

Epilogue — My name is Master Mangxiang, an old man living alone, and lately I've been annoyed.

【This merely clarifies the hidden threads and logic of already-written plotlines; if you understood the earlier parts, you don't need to read this.】

My name is Master Mangxiang, and I am over ten thousand years old.

I am an old man living alone, and lately I've been annoyed.

I'm about to become a Jin Dan, but I'm stuck on the Immortals' Platform — those old bastards...

Even if they approve or disapprove, it doesn't affect my plan to attain Jin Dan, yet the conservative faction of the Xian Alliance has grown so strong...

For all these years, Yang Zhichai has lived in shadow, never seeing the light; yet even though his heart was as deep and black as a bottomless abyss, a sliver of light still remained.

The changes in terrain reached Nangong Min's ears; the Duke of Qi immediately took it seriously and dispatched a squad of elite troops to guard the river estuary — this was also to prevent the Xi family army of Luo Ping Continent from attacking by sea, which would put Qing Cheng Continent in danger.

She deliberately looked at Qi Yue; Qi Yue, unwilling to refuse Jin Mu's warmth, lowered her head slightly in shyness and nodded.

Lu Qianqian looked at Deng Rong, who was lounging with one leg crossed over the other, and her expression instantly turned cold.

As he spoke, Zhang Zhengfeng couldn't help glancing at Zhou Chen and saw that Zhou Chen's script had already fallen to the ground.

Zhuo Hua and Zhuo Kun fell silent; Big Cousin still commanded respect — when she flew into a rage, no one dared to speak out of turn.

Liu Xiujin refused to let go; she still had to give Zhao Yabó half the profit — how could she split it without cash? Zhao Yabó wouldn't agree.

Leng Ruo Yi felt strangely calm; he wasn't worried about punishment — his mind was occupied with one question: how had Han Ming convinced Feng Cong? Such testimony would condemn Feng Cong as an accomplice — even himself — so what was he thinking? What had Han Ming promised him?

Someone with such a background would never stay long in a third-rate sect; even a top-tier sect might not hold much appeal.

"Hmph, good for you," the lead constable said smugly. "Guys, let's drop it."

Yet she had nearly erased her identity and now lived in a modest rented apartment, and a feeling close to madness gripped her.

"That's a terrifying person!" Sun Wukong raised his evaluation of the blue-robed man again — this man's schemes ran too deep; even before acting, he had planned everything, even including the uncontrollable Wild Dragon Crocodile.

Only now did David understand what he intended, and he let out a helpless, bitter laugh.

Liu Zhaoming waved his hand and dropped to the ground first, crawling forward in a low, combat-style prone advance toward the eastern side of the airport.

"Physical therapy?" James blinked. In America, many Chinese-run "physical therapy" clinics were just massage parlors — nothing to do with medicine.

Li Bai's mood remained untouched; he poured all his emotion into the song, yet his gaze toward the others was gentle and profound. The emotion his singing had stirred in the crowd now seemed to have reached a breaking point — it needed his next song to carry it forward and slowly release.

Faced with this situation, they lacked sufficient strategic vision and boldness, and all were hesitant and fearful of loss.

The crimson silk shoe upper was embroidered with gold thread and set with jade, shaped into a butterfly with outstretched wings — dazzlingly magnificent.

The terrifying explosions were unstoppable; after holding back several waves of assault, Sun Wukong and the others could no longer endure and began spitting blood.

Hearing that Xu family's monthly allowance was still being paid and Luo family was giving extra wages, everyone beamed, pounding their chests and vowing to take good care of Shiniang and never let Wang family people bully her.

The remaining mercenaries abandoned the dozen or so wind horses, already beaten to a bloody pulp, and swiftly formed a battle formation, surrounding Liu Xing and his group on all sides — each mercenary's eyes glinted with faint threads of killing intent.