Chapter 595: Tang Dou

Huang Lancai brought two puppies.

One was a Bichon Frise, the other a Corgi.

The Bichon Frise was entirely white, like a fluffy ball of wool stitched together, its ear fur dyed pink, looking extremely gentle and adorable.

She was also the circus’s resident cuteness specialist.

This one was Duo Duo’s favorite, so it was sent directly to her house across the street.

The other Corgi had short, thick legs and a large, fat rear, walking as if glued to the ground.

The spear pierced straight through a Dark Elf’s chest, and its frantic high-speed rotation tore the wound sideways at the moment of impact; by the time the spear passed clean through, the wound had expanded to the diameter of a basketball, nearly severing his body in half.

Suddenly, he grabbed the Wol matriarch’s head and pulled it toward himself, while his mouth sealed over hers.

“Wait, let me handle this, okay?” Qiu Ge scanned all around; the moment Zhou Zhou moved, he sensed it and turned to plead.

He led me to the elevator—probably a private one. It required a password to activate. I frowned, wondering if a bar really needed such high-tech security.

There is indeed this need, because survivors must eat; they can’t rely forever on foraging from mountains and seas. Farming is essential—all military districts have preserved vast stocks of seeds, prepared for post-war recovery.

Yet it was all just the boy’s illusion: the spearman retracted his lance, swung his arms, swiveled his waist with flair, and switched to the technique “Sweeping a Thousand Armies.” The boy flew straight through the lobby’s floor-to-ceiling window into the courtyard, his steel pipe shattering with a loud “bang.”

Lin Fei drank Meng Po’s Qingxin tea and was instructed to practice Maoshan magic daily to enhance his cultivation. He wouldn’t waste such a precious thing—he closed his eyes, rested his spirit, and gradually entered meditative stillness.

There were two of them; both appeared to be around forty. The one in front had a noble, composed bearing, radiating an air of grandeur. The one behind looked somewhat inferior—a massive, tiger-like frame, a face carved with muscular intensity, his arrogance utterly unmasked.

“You shameless slut, sneaking around to undermine me—you dare stand here? If it were me, I’d have smashed my head against the wall long ago…” Lin Fei spoke seriously, venting his fury on his own chastity.

Seeing Zhang Yunde look embarrassed, Zhang Kun could no longer sit still. He gently tugged Su Nan’s sleeve and gave him a meaningful glance.

All manner of attacks flew toward the Spider Zombie Lord, covering every angle.

“Since you’re asking for death, don’t blame me.” With those words, Yuan Xing tightened his fingers and crushed the man’s throat bone.

Though the dinner was modest by ordinary standards, they devoured it ravenously, as if each bite were a delicacy from heaven.

Yet perhaps due to her recent rebirth, or perhaps because of the toxins previously implanted in her, when Duan Qiantian took that step, she did not leap into the air—she remained rooted to the spot.

Two days after Chen Dama’s surgery, she began following Su Zimo, insisting on guarding him. No matter how much I argued, I couldn’t sway her stubborn resolve; eventually, I gave in.

At that moment, the streets were in chaos—screams and cries echoed everywhere, many people fled in panic like wild boars and wolves.

Had Zoey not suddenly joined, the Guardians and Angels might never have won this war—Zoey led her forces to eliminate several high-ranking Undead Fleet immortals, until the God of Death appeared.

The established principle was clear: any living being falling into this bloodwater could not survive. This had been proven by several half-saint-level cultivators—even those with domain power could not suppress the bloodwater here.

“I shot the target as if it were Zheng Ji’s head,” Song Liang suddenly said to Zheng Ji, his expression twisted with hatred, as if he bore him a grudge of cosmic proportions.

In this passive situation, the hesitant big fish among the bookmakers were gradually weakened, one by one, drawn into Bai Lian’s trap.

“After a while, I plan to lead the team out again—would you like to come with me?” Teng Qianxue suddenly changed the subject.

We turned the corner without incident, and I sighed in relief—until then, Jiang Shan, who walked at the front, suddenly screamed, his face filled with terror as he pointed ahead.

Bai Fengyi spoke calmly and steadily; Han Xing carefully observed her eyes. Wang Xiue, Zhang Xia, and Hu Pansheng said nothing, but likewise listened patiently and studied Bai Fengyi’s eyes closely.

The remaining nine slots were suddenly offered up by half—those who knew their own strength was low couldn’t hold back anymore; they had worked hard, barely secured a slot, and now they were being asked to give it up with a single word—how could they?

Time grew ever more urgent; the ghost that had left Zhang Wei glanced at him with fear, then turned its gaze toward Qi Yan.

But clearly, my request far exceeded what Yamata no Orochi could accept—it was an ancient monster that had lived for centuries; how could it endure such humiliation?

“······” Kenjin, after hearing Chao Ding’s words, found himself momentarily unable to refute him—she could think of no better solution. Perhaps Chao Ding’s method, though not correct, was at least reasonable.

But they had all witnessed this terrifying individual combat unit, for the Fan Clan, which had nearly exterminated their Jin Clan, possessed such a terrifying unit.