Chapter 483: Modern Development, Since Ancient Times

The Xuanwei Realm was subtly turbulent, while the modern world grew increasingly peaceful.

It was autumn in Goddess Hongshan once again.

Zheng Fa strolled through the mountain forest behind the nursing home, accompanied by Tang Lingwu.

Two steps behind them, Old Man Bai and Teacher Tian walked side by side.

The autumn chill in the woods was desolate.

Beneath their feet, broad, withered yellow leaves rustled softly; the autumn wind threading through the branches slapped against Zheng Fa's face, bringing waves of coolness.

The mountain path was difficult to traverse, but they were all cultivators—

Li Zicheng could not rest easy without seeing Chongzhen's blood edict; if he learned that Chongzhen's blood edict had fallen into Zhang Biwu's hands, he would surely kill Zhang Biwu.

"Then there is nothing more to discuss." Feng Yufei didn't even glance at the food before rising and returning to his bedroom, where he lazily lay on a low couch, propping up his head and staring blankly into space, unknown what thoughts occupied him.

She involuntarily retreated toward the Sphinx; as long as she protected her back, she could block attacks from any direction with the dual pistols in her hands, which was why she chose the Sphinx as her support.

Wang Yun nodded; it was only during this period that he understood why The Da Vinci Code had caused such a sensation last time. Because Sherlock Holmes, this suspense detective novel, had never appeared before, the world lacked a correct understanding and positioning of suspense, and there wasn't even a single true suspense detective novel.

Several other great families wanted to intervene, but Young Master Huo had seized the initiative first, so the others took no action and merely watched.

Meng's mother moved three times merely to find a good environment and neighbors; only thus could Mengzi become the Sage Sublime, revered by people for thousands of years.

Qianqian's mother, who had relentlessly kicked out a series of questions, was suddenly slapped hard across the face by the head of the household.

Meanwhile, within the sea of consciousness of the flesh-soil, the Black Stone Tower and the Sweet Dew Cauldron were buried in the writhing star-mote flesh-soil; as the star-mote flesh-soil continued to writhe, the power of these two supreme treasures was likewise squeezed out.

Yet everyone could see that although this young man had shifted his gaze elsewhere, it still contained terrifying fury; his shoulders trembled slightly, clearly showing he was striving to restrain his anger.

No one was foolish enough to use large carts to haul away their family silver vaults, nor did anyone attempt to take their valuable furniture; even the tall, conspicuous horses that might attract martial artists' attention were abandoned in the stables, with wealthy households at most leading a donkey for their elders to ride.

Ximen Jingtang merely pushed the window open slightly, found the scene no different from the past few days, noted that the assassin Li Tuo still had not arrived, and then slammed the window shut again.

I cannot guarantee he won't rise during the night to kill me; keeping the curved blade beside me is safer.

I took out the inner cores of the Four Spirits and all three star stones, placing them on the table; after Shen Suan examined them, he nodded with satisfaction.

Chen Fei knew this matter would likely be difficult to resolve; rather than facing seven opponents, it was better to face one. Chen Fei suddenly smiled at Chen Jianlong, leaving Chen Jianlong somewhat perplexed by that smile—what did it mean? Was he afraid?

A brand-new Harley-Davidson motorcycle sped through the streets of CD, closely followed by more than ten police cars; the lead police car blared its siren continuously as a voice broadcast from the loudspeaker: "Vehicle ahead, stop immediately, or bear the consequences."

There once existed a race that, despite all this, was never recorded in history—the Night Clan, the vampires. Rumor has it that by the time this record was compiled, the clan had already perished.

The national team players cast somewhat hostile glances at Cao Cao; the way he spoke sounded just like picking radishes at a market, choosing whoever caught his fancy.

However, the Ministry of Justice detained countless prisoners; after spending a month in the great prison, one grew somewhat numb to these footsteps. In any case, it had nothing to do with oneself; and whenever it did concern oneself, it merely meant being dragged out for a whipping or forced to press a few fingerprints.