Chapter 458: Chance Encounter with Reporter Ma

Not only were the audience behind stunned, even Li Luo failed to react.

Hitting two double yolks was bad enough.

One of those yolks went to the nominee with the weakest strength—how could anyone possibly guess that?

Fortunately, thanks to Xin Lang’s staff leading the way, the applause, which had just stalled, quickly resumed—though it was far sparser than for “Soldier’s March,” leaving the scene awkwardly thin.

Li Luo finally understood why, with Xin Lang as such a massive backer,

So Reinikker feared that Tottenham’s players and George would collapse under media pressure after losing to Chelsea, reverting to the listless, mediocre team they were before George’s arrival.

The fleet slowly circumnavigated Australia—not called Australia—sailing from the Indian Ocean around its southern tip, then looping halfway around New Zealand before landing.

Looking at Mu Wantong beside him, Bei Chen asked softly; Mu Wantong smiled faintly, her face pale, and leaned her head against Bei Chen’s shoulder.

“Mom will make you something else later.” Fruit salad was something Xu Yanting often made, and the two kids loved it.

Though he didn’t know why, these villagers were blocking him from taking disciples; Mu Niu wouldn’t be polite—he’d reasoned with them long enough; if they still refused, he had no qualms about using force.

He tried to bypass it, but discovered the system had just assigned him a task.

Wang Yiwei had made it clear enough; Xu Yanting understood perfectly and didn’t ask further. Since they’d severed ties years ago, there was no point stirring up trouble now. Thinking of Jiang Qicai, Xu Yanting sighed—poor kid.

After registering, Su Leqing went straight to the dean’s office. He’d originally planned to bring a gift, but thought it might look bad if seen, and knew Zhang Qingping wouldn’t accept it anyway, so he went empty-handed.

“Yes, we absolutely trust Elder Zhou Yuan!” Qiang and the others answered in unison.

Li Zhaoji nodded slightly; he felt an instinctive fondness for Hong Kong’s architectural firms, and since the renderings looked decent, he was somewhat satisfied.

The Blood River Patriarch fell silent for a long time; only when Qin Hao followed Zi Yang and neared the cave’s end did he once again send a voice message to Qin Hao.

Bei Ming Tian’s “Sheng’er” was Bei Ming Hong’s elder brother and crown prince, Bei Ming Sheng, who had been slain by the barbarian general Mu La’er during the earlier Hua-Man war.

Luo Xingchen was equally decisive: representing hundreds of Wu Zuns from the First Holy Temple, he handed over all the treasures. A blaze of radiant light filled the air as a pile of artifacts was directly given to Qin Hao.

As for whether, after the finale, they’d use their newfound funds to launch other projects and end up losing all the profits from “Wan Wan Mei Xiang”—that was their own business. Mo Wen had done all he could; the rest was up to them.

I comforted her as best I could, finally helping her regain some emotional control—but I never imagined this was the beginning of tragedy.

Wang Qian and She Jia were both contracted artists at Shengxia Entertainment, on good terms; knowing She Jia’s current trouble, that’s why she asked.

Mo Wen’s gaze followed Yang Damì’s delicate chin downward; since Yang Damì wore a strapless evening gown, her neck and shoulders were a dazzling expanse of white, deeply captivating Mo Wen’s eyes.

I sensed the aura within and silently calculated. Then my heart tightened. I glanced at Feng Wu Niang; her eyes also revealed traces of fear. Clearly, she, like me, had performed the calculation—and the result was, naturally, extremely grim.

At this moment, all disciples—including Yuan Ren, Wei Wa, and the attendants Bai He, Dong Hua—were present, but Tu Shan Yayaya was nowhere to be seen.