Chapter 89: Talking About Money Hurts Feelings (First Subscription Bonus 1/12)

Chen Chang’an swiftly dealt with these people, and many nearby cultivators cheered loudly, feeling greatly satisfied.

A faint dao rhythm spiraled around him, emitting waves of immortal aura. Ethereal celestial music drifted softly, and finally three colorless lotus flowers took shape.

But no matter how much he cursed, as long as he couldn’t locate Chen Qingniu’s whereabouts, he could not rest easy for a moment.

After all, the time had come to determine victory or defeat; he had no intention of returning to the city to speak with that white-bearded old man who sold equipment.

In this place, two quasi-saint experts had appeared; one was somewhat unfamiliar, but the other was the Demon General Bai Ze—this quasi-saint aura was unmistakable.

Hearing the doctor say this, Su Tang finally let out a breath of relief; thank goodness, thank goodness nothing was wrong, otherwise… she truly didn’t know what to do.

“Young Master Lu, about the acquisition of the Su family…” After answering Su Tang’s questions, Su’s father naturally brought the conversation back to the main topic.

Once his merit points were sufficient, Wang Yinguo began the transformation, then found a secluded place and ascended to the Golden Immortal realm.

“Commander Hong, I have a question I’d like to ask you, though I’m not sure if I should.” Xu Cheng feigned helplessness.

After leaving the palace, Wan He dismissed her attendants; the matter was too grave, and Yu Qing had stressed urgency—Wan He knew it was impossible to let more people know.

“Open fight? What do you mean?!” Zhang Yifan’s words left Dark Blood Rose confused.

Hao Zhang raised his palm, infusing his body with spiritual energy; Minghao intended to shatter every bone in Xia Liu’s body with a single strike.

Lin Yihuan kept crying, crying endlessly, like a starving child returning to her parents’ arms.

Guo Fan’s appearance made fans think of many things; it seemed the rumor that Guo Fan would become the next president of the Football Association was true. Fans also sincerely hoped he would take the FA chair—compared to Wu Shiwei, Guo Fan seemed more like a man who actually got things done.

“In that case, thank you, Master Ye, for giving me this opportunity,” Elder Zuo immediately rose, deeply moved.

“Since you’re still honest, I won’t make things difficult for you—wait here. Whether you can meet your benefactor or the CEO, I can’t decide.” Du Xueqi said indifferently.

To be honest, Ye Fan and Meng Yao didn’t believe Zhao Feipeng stood a chance against Zhao Zhongtian.

At thirty-two, Stanković roared as he sprinted toward the bench; Inter’s substitutes were already in chaos, Benisti embraced him, and teammates rushed forward to surround the two. As for Inter’s fans, “crazy” could no longer describe them.

A familiar voice, warm breath spreading against his neck, stirred a slow wave of heat through his entire body.

Zhang Yiming and Saito Ryūnan exchanged bitter smiles; they had both become autumn cicadas, tricked by Christina, the beautiful canary.

I shook my head. “No need. Let’s just go home.” Who is Lin Yawei? She’s my idol. My instinct told me she wouldn’t be in danger.

As a true Jin Yong fan, how could I not search Baidu for Zhang Sanfeng’s ultimate technique, Tai Chi? With my current memory, Qiu Xuan could recite every English word he’d ever learned—how could he forget the Tai Chi scripture?

“Chujian, you’re teasing Uncle Hai again,” Qin You cut me off, scolding me bluntly.

“Young Master Ouyang? What brings you here today?” A middle-aged man in a black suit stared in surprise at Ouyang Hui.

“So I believe Father’s condition isn’t just exhaustion, as he claims—they’re definitely hiding something from me.” I concluded finally. “But they won’t tell me—how can I find out the truth?” I was stumped.

“Hahaha…” Hearing Bei Nansang’s words, the Queen Bee suddenly threw back her head and laughed—but there was no joy in her laughter, only profound sorrow.

If you can’t have it, let it go. This is a love with no hope—seven years already, a full seven years.

It’s exaggerated. But Chen Yi thought the steamed bun had this kind of appeal, and the location was good—the road in front of the village entrance had heavy foot traffic, especially in the morning.

“But it’s not with me now. I sent it back to Hangzhou—I simply had no time to care for it,” Tong Jing said apologetically, spreading her hands.

“Good, good! If you can save my mother, I’d give my own life willingly,” Liu Bin hurriedly nodded in agreement upon hearing Ye Tian’s words.

They exchanged a glance and let the topic drop; they never doubted Song Shan’s actions, only thought he was rushing—since he had his own plan, they accepted it.

Entering his research room, Yang Hao pulled out a heavy wooden chest from beneath a workbench.

“May I ask how many years these Three Emperor Lords can typically endure?” Emperor Yingzong asked quickly.

Tao Shang merely watched him silently, saying nothing, just watching—quietly, quietly.

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t pinch my ear again—I just saw it by accident!” The male voice cried out dramatically, then burst into sweet flattery.