Chapter 92: The Penglai Grand Rite Meets Yin and Filth Qi

Gu Zhao looked at the young Daoist, and the young Daoist looked back at Gu Zhao.

Master Yihong raised his white eyebrows, glancing first at Gu Zhao beside him, then at the young Daoist across from him; after carefully sensing, he could not help but smile with satisfaction, “Our Daoist sect has a worthy successor!”

Then a group of Daoists across from them stepped forward, “Fusheng Wuliang Tianzun! Master Yihong, greetings!”

“Fusheng Wuliang Tianzun!” Master Yihong also chanted the Daoist invocation, bowing in return,

Sssshhh— the blood-red palm clashed with the gray mist, producing no violent spectacle; instead, they frantically devoured each other, the void trembling under the corrosive force of their clash, sending rapid ripples spreading outward.

“Ye Tian, once your cultivation reaches the Martial Saint realm, you have essentially begun to touch the laws of Heaven and Dao; Martial Saints can harness the world’s power, so even if they perish, the faint remnant of their soul retains this world power—this residual world power is beyond what you or I can handle.”

Although Yun Hao found this man repulsive, he could not help but admire him as a true warlord.

Han Chi moved his phone away from his ear; the power of a psychic’s ability was evident even through radio transmission.

The jade slip contained only a few brief lines: it began by stating that the massive mountain had been forged from multiple materials—this single sentence stunned Yun Hao; such a colossal mountain had been crafted by human hands, and from this, one could imagine the extraordinary power of the one who forged it.

Bai Tie’s face turned utterly dark; his gaze toward Qiu Minghao was filled with viciousness. Qiu Minghao, terrified, tried to speak—but for some reason, his mouth opened yet no sound came out, as if he were rendered speechless.

Yi Xuan focused his gaze: there were several weapon cards, all gold-rarity, but none suited him; finally, his eyes settled on the lone armor card.

Han Chi still remembered how, back in school when he chased girls, his usual tactic was writing a note or having someone introduce him, meeting secretly on the playground or in some corner after class, saying “Let’s be friends,” and thus establishing a temporary romantic bond.

“Came? What came?” Li Xiaofan, who had spent several days in the Underworld, knew nothing of the mortal world’s affairs.

“What are you talking about? You make it sound like I’m old. Even Xiaofan hasn’t complained about me—yet you, woman, are the one causing trouble.” Donggong Hong pouted, glaring resentfully at Ye Mei.

He was a scheming man, and this one had harmed his aunt’s only remaining descendant—he would never let it go. Not to mention his elders at home; the moment his cousin’s wounds healed, the Zhao family’s downfall would begin.

Recalling his earlier gaze, Lan Jing accepted willingly; the two walked side by side, silent yet not awkward.

Due to the strengthening of the Soul Flame Seed, a faint crimson flame flickered constantly on her forehead, smooth as white jade; her cold eyes held within their depths a saintly silver glow.

Like having found a great golden ingot, he was desperate for everyone to notice his red lips and white teeth, his beauty rivaling Pan An.

Qin Yu clasped his hands together in a prayerful gesture; he merely wished to give Lü Dongbin a pastime, never imagining he would fuel the gambling culture in the Divine Realm.

Before he finished speaking, those around him shot him furious glares—as if they would beat him if he uttered another word.

The massive beam of light slammed hard against Yu Yangzi’s Yin-Yang Mirror, and within moments, it had driven his body an inch into the ground.

Based on that day’s surveillance footage, Tang Long indeed captured the suspect’s presence—but could not see his face; tracing his footsteps, he eventually pinpointed the suspect’s trail: the suspect had driven into the victim’s home, then faked the scene, and a footprint was found near where the suspect had parked.