Chapter 293

Jiang Yingxue heard the name "great enemy" and felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Coupling this with Shen Siyuan's mother's personality, for some reason, she suddenly thought of someone.

She quickly pressed: "What's Little Shen's mother's name?"

"Uh… I don't know. She's an elder; how could I ask her directly?"

Ruan Hongzhuang looked at her and suddenly remembered how Shen Siyuan's mother had asked about her mother's name—why were both of them like this?

When Lin Feng and his group arrived at the training ground, the once-empty field was now packed with people, bustling and lively.

At age 29, Xiantian became the "Lord of the Wasteland," and relative to the million-year lifespan of the Xuantai Realm, he had endless time—to waste or to forge legend.

Watching his apprentice hobble out the gate like an old man, Master Yao's smile slowly faded, replaced by solemnity.

A significant portion of Earth's population even broke through to the Primordial Core level, or even the Qi Sea realm, their lifespans surging several times over—granting them longer lives to advance further and vastly enhancing Earth's capacity for transformation and development.

"Enough, Luoying. Your Brother Jiuhuang isn't dead—just lost one arm. For such an almost impossible victory, it's worth it," Jiuhuang smiled faintly, his cloudy eyes clear as ever.

Seeing this, Zhao Jingwen pulled out her phone, found Chen Xu's name, and called—yet all she heard was the endless dial tone, with no answer.

Xue Jun, listening to the exchange between Fang Jin and Xue Shan, asked hesitantly: "Father, are you planning to send him?"

"You two go back too. Rest well. The Earth Traveling Fan is lost—tomorrow, you must get your hands on the Iron Bone Ginseng."

"It's a blue bag with white dots. I don't know what's inside, but Huayan Ao never let it out of his grasp since entering the inn—it must hold something valuable."

The two groups met at the corridor's bend. The two men who had been speaking—one in his thirties, the other barely twenty—both strikingly handsome—saw Wang Shan and Qin Yun'er turn the corner.

"I heard the Emperor's personal guards are recruiting and appointing officials in the occupied zones—is that true?" Thomas asked coldly again.

"No rush. Say what you need—no need to beat around the bush with me," Zhao Feng's uncle said cheerfully on the other end.

"Then, last Wednesday night—the night you first checked in—what did you do?" Qin Zhili extinguished the incense stick in his hand and immediately turned to Yuan Quan with another question.

I thought it over but found no valid excuse to object; lacking crucial leads, I believed Director Tian wouldn't uncover anything, so I said nothing.

The two jade pendants trembled violently, their colors swirling like blood, emitting a sound like tinkling jade—sweet and melodic. With the sound, a deep crimson light suddenly expanded, instantly engulfing the two.

Big Tooth lay in bed, half-asleep, feeling an itch on his face. He scratched it, suddenly touching something like a strand of hair. He ignored it and kept sleeping—but the itch grew worse.

Yingye's previously beautiful face suddenly stiffened—her expression now suggested she believed Fatso and the Old Director's words.

"Thanks, Master," I bowed to him. His face looked ruddy—I guessed he'd done plenty of good deeds in his life.

They talked until the east turned pale with dawn, the bonfire's glow dimmed, yet neither wanted to stop.