Chapter 308

A day and night passed.

"BOOM!!!"

The sword demon lay dead in the dune where it was born, its face crisscrossed with deep gashes carved by sword qi, like giant vipers coiled upon it, making its already grotesque visage even more terrifying.

All four of its limbs had been severed, and half its bloodied maw had been destroyed, leaving it utterly incapable of combat.

Yet it still clung to the intent to attack Chu Wan Ge.

Such a mindless thing,

"Gurgle, gurgle," the flow of the giant's blood opened the curtain of death. The man surnamed Xiong had no time to think—he relied solely on instinct, clutching his neck to stop the blood from draining out and killing him.

Looking for someone? Meeting? But didn't my husband just return? Li Juan, who had come to deliver silver ear soup to Hu Tianming, felt puzzled.

His movements seemed to stir the shadowy figures trailing behind—"whoosh, whoosh"—seven or eight black-clad men appeared, wielding swords and knives of varying lengths as they chased after them.

Yang Yixuan, who had watched Luo Tongtong leave in tears, was tormented inside. He understood perfectly what Luo Tongtong meant today—if he were with her, the Luo family could help the Yang family survive this crisis. But he could not abandon his love; he loved Xu Xiangqing too deeply to let go.

On Huang Yan'er's chest was a gaping, bloody wound; her white robes were soaked crimson. It seemed time was running out.

Yet no one heard Mu Ran's words, and no one knew where Mu Ran was now.

That day, Wan Qingqing suddenly remembered the bolts of cloth she had paid for but never collected, so after her morning tea, she wandered out.

It was easy to see Wang Lu had closed his eyes again, as if fallen still. But if one looked closely, one would notice his hands, his lips, even his entire body, never ceased trembling.

Beyond the green hills dotted with strange plants, this world held towering skyscrapers. Yet the only thing that drew the eye was one—and it stood at the very center of this world.

She sincerely thanked him; since founding her studio, Qin Yuehan had lent countless hands behind the scenes. Thanks to Wen Yan as their first major client, they had earned their first pot of gold, and things had flowed smoothly ever since.

Meng Xiran paused, looking at the young girl before her—her heart and eyes were filled with trust; they were a team.

From stumbling onto the livestreaming path by chance, to stumbling through one task after another, Chu Yan's livestreaming skills had grown increasingly polished. All the canned lines and cute phrases came effortlessly to his lips.

After Wen Zhao sat down, Yu Chen closed the door himself, then, right before Wen Zhao's eyes, they took out one by one the items from their pockets and belts—the walkie-talkies, pistols, handcuffs—and laid them in neat rows on the table, then spread their hands wide, signaling they carried no recording or filming devices.

What kind of divine artifact is this black Kirin, that even the Chaotic Heaven Sovereign appeared to gift it to me, and became so entangled in it that he willingly took part in all this?

Whether Qin Yuxian admits it or not no longer matters—this blame has been firmly pinned on her. Master Deng naturally longed for revenge, yet he still wished to know who the true mastermind behind it all was.

But Yu Chen pursued relentlessly; the distance between them kept shrinking, and his struggles were futile.

The third bizarre condition imposed by the Emperor of the Empire—the joint negotiations between the Federation and the Empire—remained frozen in mutual silence.

Mu Fan felt the matter had been discussed enough; it was time to return to the main topic: how to write the plot. He turned to Kong Mo and the others and asked.

"You're serious? Corpse Cultivation is unique to the Corpse Cult Sect—not only do you need to cultivate a peculiar technique, but more importantly, you must process corpses, requiring all sorts of herbs and formulas, and supposedly even fire to burn them into shape," the bald man added.