Chapter 112

The atmosphere in the arena suddenly fell silent; no one spoke, all waiting for the black-clad man to retaliate, for they were not close enough to understand deeply, and all assumed Cheng Li was merely an ordinary Golden Core cultivator.

The hand gripping the nurse slipped away; Zhao Xiran stood frozen in place, her mind circling only around the nurse’s words.

The next day, Su Xun still wore his blue-and-white brocade robe, and Tang San and the others had also changed into identical attire.

He sought to free his divine soul and intent from this suffocating, unbearable imprisonment.

The inn’s guests, seeing the yamen officials arrive, all stopped eating and drinking, turning their gazes toward the constable.

Yao Lingling instinctively rebutted, but the other party had anticipated this and immediately produced a series of proofs.

If we return victorious, I must petition the Crown Prince to grant me several singers to keep by my side, so I may hear them sing anytime, anywhere—to pass the time, far more intriguing than watching opera.

Only through ceaseless inquiry can one gain wisdom’s inspiration; only through persistent effort can one knock open the door to happiness.

At that moment, the transparent light gate at the end of the void passage—destined to decide the fates of the Third Ancestor and Fifth Ancestor—suddenly shook violently.

Moreover, the corpse qi in these mountains was thick, making it their sacred ground for cultivation; unlike Qi Condensation cultivators, zombies cultivate by absorbing death qi and decay qi—only the weakest zombies need to draw yang qi from mortals.

“Brother, are you troubled?” Years of shared life had made Shu Fang deeply familiar with Xiao Han; Xiao Han’s demeanor just now clearly indicated he was burdened with something.

“Fine, nothing’s missing—just miss my family!” Shuan Ma nodded, truly missing home, her eyes reddening.

“Don’t worry, the monk may run, but the temple won’t.” Zhao Zhengce smiled, patting Huang He on the shoulder.

Nearly all leaders in Hengbei had spoken with Huang Tiexin—some harshly criticizing him, others gently educating him—but none had openly expressed support.

“Little sister, you mustn’t speak such words lightly—walls have ears; if overheard, it’s a capital offense!” The Seventh Princess dismissed it, yet felt moved. “Why should I fear you, sister?” Li Ruo heard this and couldn’t help silently shaking her head, thinking the girl beyond saving, and refused to speak further.

“Two gilded canopy beds—I’ll gift one, and my brother-in-law will gift the other.” Yan Zeyin lifted his chin, pridefully.

Originally, Emily and Altor’s grain procurement in Bielefeld went smoothly; though the Herd Merchant Guild’s usual trade was demonic beast materials, rare seasonings, and strong liquor, Altor, leveraging years of connections and experience, still managed to secure grain.

Qiu Sheng hurriedly leapt off his horse, intending to shoo them away; seeing them unmoved, he raised his fist as if to strike. Yan Guiwan first froze, then finally heard their continuous pleas.

Wasn’t that one of the merchants on the Yuhua Terrace—the very ones who had aroused her suspicion? And precisely the one at the front, the one who had met her gaze?

This talent show was much like TV variety auditions, following a performance-based format.

Hu Shi went to meet the ambassadors of Britain and France; the three instantly agreed, reaching cooperation in an instant.

Yang Zimo and the others, knowing Wu Hao’s resolve was firm, did not dissuade him, only urged him to take care and looked forward to his triumphant return.

“Very nice. I think these few styles are good too—try them all.” Nangong Ku was in good spirits, pointing to a row of garments on the rack.

She suggested Chen Song plant golden quail flowers after harvesting sunflowers; if they survived the winter, next year’s estate soil would become much richer.

A heavy thud echoed; Zhao Wei’s entire skeleton had been reduced to powder by Mo Yuan.

But the rent? The government officials paid for six months—after that, she must pay herself.

The Emperor narrowed his eyes and struck back with a punch; imperial power surged toward heaven, infinite calamity light piercing through space and time, neutralizing most of the opponent’s force—but some remained. Clearly, the opponent’s strength surpassed his own.

“Uncle Tao, Third Brother, should I notify the Gao sisters and let them decide?” Li Bing was truly at a loss—he had witnessed the tree people’s power, and tonight he’d inevitably face a fierce battle with Gao Zihan, yet he couldn’t harm her; it was tantamount to suicide.

Saying this, he took her slender hand, activated his divine sense, and extracted a single drop of essence blood from her fingertip.

But after knocking the Poison Dragon unconscious once more, he changed his mind; suddenly, he found this quite enjoyable—his work was thrilling, especially the moment he smashed the Poison Dragon into unconsciousness, and Cheng Ping was utterly delighted.

“Sister, that bastard who deserves a thousand deaths has returned—I hate him… he deceived you; if not for him, you wouldn’t have left us.” Tang Wanrong wept against the tombstone, her sobs echoing through the air.

This was an ice spike imbued with boundless sword intent; had it struck anyone else, they would surely have perished beneath its piercing sword qi.

After hanging up the phone, Su Jinru went back to sleep, but Li Yan immediately began calling out Su Jinru’s name again.

Yet facing the terrifying, suffocating thunderbolts crashing from the sky, Wang Hao merely smirked.

Next, Long Wu leapt into the sky above this region, his hands rapidly forming seals; immense cosmic forces enveloped the land, slowly forming a devouring power that drew in all fortune and destiny from every direction of Die Ling Valley.

Fan Xueyi looked up; the great blade gleamed coldly, its edge razor-sharp. When Fan Qingyun took the blade, Fan Zi yi was already a weeping mess, begging desperately—but Fan Qingyun remained unmoved.

“Good,” Master Mo replied promptly, then turned his gaze to Zhongli Chen, who twitched his lips before immediately summoning a maid.

Waking from sleep, the sky was already bright. Sunlight streamed through the lattice windows, slanting across flourishing flower branches, casting dappled patterns across the ground.

As the crowd spoke, “Dong dong dong dong…” a series of muffled drum-like thuds, mixed with Han Zhong and Sun Mouche’s curses, echoed across the entire martial arena.