Chapter 803: The Superior Strategy

Xun Peng said without expression: “Master Dao, you’re the one who’s a Daoist—you should understand ghostly matters better than I do.”

“Besides, you already know the resentful ghost is in the lake—just expel it swiftly. Nothing else needs your concern.”

Xiao Yu hesitated: “My exorcism method differs slightly from others’.”

“It doesn’t begin with setting up an altar, lightning flashing, thunder roaring, and qi surging wildly, as if gods and demons had descended.”

Master Xun asked: “How do you perform exorcism?”

I kicked his stool without holding back—he tumbled to the ground with a thud, screaming and muttering in pain. I covered my ears and pretended not to hear; life remained blissful.

All the insect eggs have hatched; tens of thousands of Tongxue worms now dwell inside her. By that day, Huanhuan will have no path but death.

Jiang Chang’an sipped tea leisurely, while Old Ouyang stared at the jar without daring to breathe. After half a cup of tea, a green sprout broke through the soil.

She felt a pang of guilt—after all, sitting on someone else’s ground and wondering whether their shop would go bankrupt sounded utterly lacking in conviction.

“Zhang Yiguang doesn’t have a Golden Melody Award, but you do. Even if you’re not the Golden Melody King, at least you’ve received official recognition,” Yang Nanhua said slowly.

Tang Muxi pressed her lips together. She’d thought she’d lie awake, but before long, she closed her eyes and slipped into sleep.

She simply dissolved the barrier. If the owner himself wasn’t worried about it being a pear blossom, then she, as an outsider, had no reason to care so much.

His movements appeared effortless, as if he used no strength at all. But only Lin Miaor herself knew how difficult it was to escape the full force of Snowfall’s assault.

I clenched my fist and punched the silver crown—its sharp spikes jabbed into my hand, causing discomfort. Another case of bringing pain upon myself.

Murky water instantly submerged me, dragging me down, flooding endlessly into every limb and bone, tearing at me with swelling, agonizing pain.

Old Zhu rushed forward, gripping the nautical compass to halt the “Water God’s” spin, then placed Sun Wukong inside the cabin.

Fu Xi’s lips slowly curled into a smile. Just as he prepared to apply more pressure, the pit bull made an astonishingly clever move.

As he spoke, the man reached Zhang Yifan’s side. Seeing Zhang Yifan’s cold stare, he immediately kicked out at Zhang’s thigh in annoyance.

Arriving before the mountain path, scouts were sent to investigate—no ambush was found—and the army advanced immediately.

In that instant, most living beings on the battlefield froze, their weapons halting mid-swing. That familiar voice sent an inexplicable chill through their hearts, rendering them motionless.

Their dance steps flowed gracefully—each forward step, each backward step, countless tango motions—all performed with perfect harmony. Lin Yan’s cheeks flushed deeper, her breathing quickening.

In Jiang Yu’s hand, the Ten Thousand Sniper Rifle transformed into a one-foot pistol, which he then fired straight at Shen Zhuo’s face.

He’d raised the topic merely to test Xiang Hao’s depth—but he hadn’t expected Xiang Hao to genuinely challenge him.

The next day, Zhang Song rushed in to find Liu Yong. Liu Yong, unaware of the reason, assumed the wine had failed and Zhang Song had come to demand recompense for lost face. He made sure Kou Feng followed him when he went to meet Zhang Song.

That palm struck with overwhelming force—the fist aura ripped through the sky, and with a hiss, it shattered Big Brother’s skull.

But since they were brothers, and since his brother had asked—no matter how dangerous, he’d roll right onto the knife mountain.

Shan Wang frowned, as if realizing the matter I described was indeed extremely troublesome. I had thought long and hard, facing them with an attitude of utter uncertainty—unable to predict what might happen next.