Chapter 822

One Hundred and Sixty-Eight: Concern Breeds Chaos 【Early Month, Requesting Moon Tickets!】

“Same as always—we can only stay in town for three days. After that, we return to the island to regroup with the Immortals and board the fleet back to Sword Marsh.”

“Understood.”

“Here’s the East Market, Brother Liang. Buy whatever you need—this bag of silver should be enough. It’s a gift from the young lady.”

“Oh.”

“Brother Liang, don’t forget the matter the young lady instructed you about. I’ve got nothing urgent—I can join you anytime. By the way,”

“Ha! Xiao Yan, I wonder if you’ll survive this time?” Tang Hui let out a wild laugh, his hair whipping wildly in the wind like a demon.

But the Soul-Death Flame was too powerful; barely seconds after being sliced apart by wind blades, it reformed into a single black flame. Trapped in the demon crystal for so long, it had finally escaped—only to be suppressed again, forcing it fully into the open, its body beginning to swell.

Hearing Mei Linda say “it won’t happen again,” Lin Na burst into laughter, then pulled her aside to comfort her further. Though Mei Linda claimed she didn’t care, who knew if she truly meant it? Lin Na felt it her duty to help Mei Linda resolve this knot.

At this moment, Ouyang was frantic—how could he spare a thought for these reporters? Neither the fire brigade’s other members nor the helicopter could arrive anytime soon. Under the current temperature, the people in the river couldn’t hold on much longer.

They bowed deeply to the deceased, followed by many high-ranking Yu Army generals. Meng Zhu stepped closer to Si Ying, knelt down, and took her cold hand in hers. “Si Ying, bear up!” The four words choked her into silence.

“You’re clever.” He smiled, but a more venomous glint flashed in his eyes. He hooked his index finger, turning her face toward the dim oil lamp, staring at her with obsession.

At this moment, these beings could not be killed, could not be avoided—they advanced step by step, their monstrous forms looming closer.

Silence surrounded them. The mist-shrouded Yunyang Lake remained silent. Luo Tiefeng held his rifle in one hand, parted the grass with the other, and slowly moved deeper. Deep in the wild grass, he spotted the armored vehicle Qian Yigui had driven that day.

Liu Yunchang wasn’t foolish—he had no intention of tempting fate! But he kept a careful thought to himself, not voicing it outright.

“This is your child?” Mu Qingge walked over, gazing at the child in his arms—rosy, delicate, utterly adorable, making one want to kiss it.

Their attire was exceptionally splendid, clearly cut from spirit brocade, with two ancient seal-script characters woven into the lapels and cuffs: “Eternal Life.”

This old bastard could outlast even a king. To make his grand entrance past the ten-million mark, he’d waited over ten thousand years, waiting for Qiu Qiong to emerge so he could stage a dazzling, world-shaking reversal.

Then, from that space stepped a blood-shadow—its body bound in red bandages, resembling a mummy, yet without arms, and with extraordinarily long, blood-red fingernails.

As Liu Wei questioned himself, the three spectators outside displayed wildly varied expressions.

An elder from another super-powerful sect among the human race could no longer tolerate it—this sluggishness wasn’t the way of a true powerhouse.

“Minmin,” Li Ge Xiao felt panic for the first time—different from when Li Min was in danger. Was he truly about to lose her now?

“What position does Mr. Wang hold at the company?” Xue Changgui asked sternly. After being humiliated by Wang Bing so many times, he had to find out—couldn’t die without knowing why.

Like the King, though he had become an Emperor and rooted himself in True Dao, his future path, though destined to become True Dao, carried an exceptionally potent Dao source—ten thousand meters equaled several times the power of an ordinary True God.

As the central command camp moved, the previously divided soldiers found their anchor and surged en masse toward one direction—the battlefield erupted into chaos.

Nanjing in September was unbearably hot. Though today was overcast, not a breath of wind stirred, not a drop of rain fell—sweat soaked every inch of skin.

The corridor here was a square, circular path. One side held endless rooms; the other, row upon row of large windows. Through them, one could see the courtyard where the Sunward Guardians trained, and the opposite corridor.

The leader was Old Lady Yu. But Qin Yan’s gaze was instantly drawn to the two figures behind her.

Thus, when Cicero shouted Francis’s name atop the God of War Mountain, the Athenians reacted with shock—not anger—at the accusation against their city’s magistrate.

Fu Chen’s eyes turned icy as he glided forward; a brilliant sword light slashed forth—the shield before him shattered instantly, the faint yin energy absorbed and dissolved by the Zhuxian Sword.

When she had hit rock bottom, Cui Qingyuan’s care for her had moved Du Yutong slightly.

Qin Ran suddenly burst into tears. If not for Empress Duan Yong’s backing, perhaps she would be the next one targeted.

Of course, everyone agreed: no one else should speak of this—only Guoer’s clever tongue could deliver it properly.

“I’ve been here before!” Zhao Yanan smiled, then suddenly reached out her free right hand and grabbed Qin Yan’s left.

Tongren rubbed his chin. He couldn’t beat the protagonist, but meeting a couple of minor Rocket Gang goons shouldn’t be a problem, right?

I turned to look at the bride. I didn’t know if she saw me—or sensed something—but she suddenly lifted her veil and bowed to me.

If only I’d known Zhi Hui meant this studio, I’d have come right away… why even think twice? Ugh… missing my idol for days was agony.