Chapter 863: His Face Is Completely Lost!

The rain kept falling.

The atmosphere was not harmonious.

Beneath the same curtain of rain.

You gradually felt your heart changing.

You loved him.

Perhaps even with hatred mixed in!

Four years of youth had already been spent half away.

It had all just been playing along with him!

This song by Zhang Yu, “The Rain Keeps Falling,” if slightly altered, would fit perfectly right now, in this moment, under these circumstances.

Chu Yuxun, driving behind, thought this.

She could no longer hold on; she closed her eyes, like a reed leaf lost in direction, slowly sinking toward the depths of the lake.

After announcing that classes would be rearranged by semester-end grades, the students began grumbling.

There were plenty of cases where bankruptcy overnight led to family ruin—perhaps not entirely accidental.

Xie Wan was a discarded concubine; her family had fallen from power. Aside from her title, she had no support whatsoever in this palace. As Xie Lingyu had said, even if she “committed suicide out of fear of punishment,” no one would seek justice for her.

Indeed, her son was very clever—otherwise he wouldn’t have that expression. He was just usually reserved and it wasn’t obvious.

The black-haired boy’s temple twitched; after a second’s thought, Luo Bai retracted his hand without hesitation.

At this moment, Li Xingyao was cramming onto a bus when his phone rang. He picked it up and saw it was Jiao Yue calling. Anger surged in him—he wanted to hang up immediately.

The two exchanged vague words for several rounds; Jiujing Shengye, realizing he could get nothing out of them, gave up.

Minghu Park in the city center had different scenery in every season; now it was autumn, and occasionally a few red leaves drifted down from the treetops, spinning in the air several times before landing on the ground.

Chen Chunsong, Tang Jianshe, and Tao Jun would certainly help promote—they were responsible for the outlying districts and counties like Pudong and Kunshan.

Yuan Guo, participating in the arrest operation, also reported via radio: their side had been ambushed too. Qin Yuan found it curious—Basaide seemed to know their route, as if they’d leaked the information to the police in advance.

Who could have imagined that beneath the southwest of the Geng Realm lay a primordial beast capable of destroying heaven and earth?

A few young people who had just started working were quite serious—they accepted their situation and made the best of it.

The Titan Ape grew furious and clashed with Da Ming, but his strength was far inferior; within a few strikes, he was beaten into fleeing in all directions.

He had absolutely no dignity left. No matter what, he felt Qin Yuan didn’t need to be so blunt—he was, after all, a doctoral student.

A journalist from a certain self-media outlet similarly used his looks to outshine his peers and secured the first question.

Yet now, he was willing to set aside all his emotions toward Itachi and focus entirely on the transformation of Konoha.

But the matter had grown too large; the StarNet was watching closely. Neither his identity nor Mi Lele’s was suitable for direct confrontation.

Even if the ninja fought to the death, they would no longer pay attention to the Daimyo—somewhat stabilizing things.

At this moment, he was covered in wounds, his lips pale, his face bluish, as if he had been poisoned deeply and suffered grievous injuries.

Brother Wu roared, and a purple beam formed a rope-like strand, tightly wrapping the black statue. The black statue strained to tear free—but could not break loose at once.

In the back hall, Li Sidong looked around nervously; seeing no one nearby, he eagerly opened his purse.

Back then, because she was clever, adorable, and well-behaved, the teachers always strongly recommended her for important performances.

The emperor no longer wanted to hear these excuses. He blamed Chen Ye, and the retired emperor’s decree had already been issued. What else do you expect me to do? Chen Ye was already seething inside, too afraid to press further.

Others were slightly convinced. Mi Kaka had an iron mouth and copper tongue—she could make up anything. No one could match her at that.