Chapter 143: Revenge for Revenge's Sake

Lin Libo sat in the chair, his face deathly pale.

He glanced at Lan Duoduo, who was sprawled at the kitchen doorway watching her mother cook, drew a deep breath, and tried to speak, only to find his chest so clogged that not a single word could come out.

Lin Jianming saw his expression and knew exactly what was on his mind.

"Got a smoke? Lend me one," Lin Jianming said.

Lin Libo pulled out a cigarette and handed one to Lin Jianming; Lin Jianming reached out to take it, but then—

"Hey, hey, hey, Doctor, he's already back—why don't you tell everyone?" someone couldn't help but urge.

So Daoist Yixuan hurriedly led the Grand Shaman away from this "place of trouble," lest something truly happen later and no words could undo it.

The stench was extremely foul, and after drifting up into the air it actually took shape as a vicious great tiger. Once the tiger finished forming, it let out a roar at Qin Ming, then all four legs moved at once and charged at Qin Ming to kill him.

"It's neither an opening nor a promotion, and certainly not some exhibition. It's a cricket-fighting tournament," Li Cheng said with a smile.

"We ran into them," Baili Dengfeng replied lightly, though he didn't know what Mockbo was asking this for.

"When we were in Persia, we fought the Persian cavalry and archers many times and defeated them again and again. Would the Brutti cavalry be any stronger than the Persian cavalry!" Epitenis said with full confidence.

"What is this?" Bai Xin and Li Feng nearby were all greatly shocked, their gazes fixed dead on that tooth as if staring at an incomparable treasure.

"No, I must kill that bastard with my own hands. His body and spiritual force may be strong, but my archery is unrivaled—as long as I keep my distance from him, I can definitely shoot him dead," Xiao Zhan roared in his heart.

"These two swords—I can't quite decide. Help me pick one," Wang Chuyan brought Luo Chen over to the two swords she had her eye on.

Over the years, she had consumed many precious heaven-and-earth treasures, forcibly raising the concentration of her Arrow God bloodline from its original four-star level up to five-star.

He had not yet run close when Hua Mian already noticed him, but she could not believe her own eyes; when he stood before her carrying the cold wind and took off his cloak to drape it over her, she still could not believe he would appear in such a manner.

After hearing of Baburode's tragic experiences, Tatum and the others drew a deep breath and patted him on the shoulder.

6. How does one cure a poison of this clashing kind? Chapter Sixty-Five writes: Someone had already brought over a bowl of water long before; the thin shopkeeper pinched open Cao Biaotou's mouth and poured it down. A moment later, Cao Biaotou gagged and retched for the longest time, then slowly came back to his senses.

"Do I look stupid?" Hunter Shu pulled his gaze away from the Hell Guard, turned his head back, and Mu Ai was already gone without a trace. He had been ditched by Mu Ai.

Chu Luan's skin was so delicate that the slightest touch would leave a bruise, and being careless by nature she paid it no mind, so the room always kept a stock of Snow-Condensing Balm for dispersing bruises—the ointment was personally made by Divine Physician Miao, and worked very well.

Dao Feng's gaze hardened, and the grin vanished. Seeing the Fangsheng palm-wind bearing down, he dared not be careless; he thrust out a finger, and with a great bang Dao Feng was sent staggering back six or seven steps, his body swaying unsteadily.

For Tian Tian, this was undoubtedly a monstrous humiliation, as if she were walking stark naked through a crowded street under the gaze of all.

Without a second's hesitation, the hammer in his hand had already been flung out of sight in that instant; he threw up both hands and, in the crisis, caught hold of a vine not far from the cave mouth—slippery and sticky to the touch—but at this moment he had no mind to fuss over hygiene.

In the end, the fortifications were all built by the Mongol soldiers themselves; before even half the works were finished, those killed or wounded by cannonballs and flying bricks and broken tiles numbered no fewer than two thousand.

The scholars passed a few interrogation dossiers among themselves, and the faces of those who read them soon turned ugly—earlier it had only been suspicion, but now they had clearly confirmed that they had been used.