Chapter 109: Wang Chuyi (Ten-Thousand-Character Chapter~)

The car entered the village just as evening fell, the sky already growing dim.

Along the roadside, children ran about with firecrackers in hand, chasing and laughing. At the village entrance, the small shop had already hung up New Year’s lanterns in its front yard, radiating a festive air, while piles of Lunar New Year goods were stacked outside the store like small hills.

As soon as the car passed the village entrance, they saw

She hadn’t expected Tang Anjie to still demand an apology from her; the person couldn’t be found, the video was real, and this whole mess was Jiang Tiantian’s own doing—now the only solution was to apologize.

Zheng Haonan felt waves of nausea rising in his chest, yet before Su Rao’s calmness and resilience, he was filled with awe.

Guests from the upper floors of the hotel also came rushing down, disheveled and disordered, turning the entire lobby into a chaotic uproar.

Moreover, Luo Yi was a foreigner, of Chinese-Italian mixed heritage, but held Italian nationality.

At the neighboring table, Chen the Shopkeeper and Old Master Murong were present; the Emperor had said they need not observe formal royal protocol, and the group exchanged cups and goblets, their atmosphere even livelier than this side.

Lu Zihuai glanced around casually; traces of the flowers he had once prepared as a surprise for Chu Xun still littered the ground, but all the flowers had withered and decayed.

But no matter what, he still had to go in—stopping Chu Yan was the only way.

Although Chu Xun’s body wasn’t hers, hearing her past self speak those words through her body still left him unsettled.

After an indeterminate length of time, the door opened again; a heavy stench of blood surged in, and Shen Cheng rushed in, breathless.

By nightfall, the medicine was fully brewed; the group packed the wound salves, and Rong Jiu sent Mu Feng to deliver them to the Divine Mechanism Camp.

“Mom doesn’t know him.” Picking up the onion, Su Qingge walked into the kitchen with the bag, unwilling to say more.

Seeing the crowd gradually escape the dangerous lava hell, Li Yunmu could finally relax and begin his battle.

His goal seemed clear—he had been heading straight toward An Ruo and Lu Ling’s position, but even as he shifted locations now, his direction had slightly altered.

Dozens of divine magical creatures, seemingly of troll bloodline, charged onto the city walls, wielding long iron clubs and clashing with human soldiers.

Shrike thought to himself: You’ve filled the entire square—what else can I say? This place was originally for assembling troops, but now with six warships here, there’s no room left for soldiers to gather.

Her gentle words flowed like warm water, soothing his battered heart; Ye Chenyi felt a warmth spread through him, obediently taking the cup and swallowing the pill.

Xiang Li remained silent throughout, unlike her earlier lively and energetic self. Bai Yuzhou had no idea what to do, assuming she was remembering something painful and would feel better in time.

Sensing the man before her had lowered his aura noticeably, Mai Zi quickly hushed and lowered her head, pretending to be an ostrich.

Mai Zi checked her watch—it was 8:25; luckily she hadn’t missed this elevator, or she’d be late.

“It’s fine, I’ll teach you!” Zhao Wují noticed Su Wei’s slight embarrassment and comforted her.

“Recently, there haven’t been any rifts in the sky of Yunling Continent, correct? All city teleportation arrays are still functioning normally?” Wei Suo said nothing else, merely asking this quietly.

The blood moon plunged into the forest; between the dark, twisted branches, only shattered glimmers of light remained, adding to the eerie allure.

Around him, all was vast, dark, and silent, thick with ghostly energy, as piercing, mournful shrieks echoed—no one knew their source. Li Xing’s appearance seemed to rouse the master of this place; a fierce, menacing aura locked onto him from afar.

Lawrence nodded, appearing calm as he looked at Zhao Wují, unaware that in his heart he had already imagined Zhao Wují’s fate countless times.

When I got home, my mother had already cooked dinner; after eating, I lay on my bed pretending to nap. Thinking back on the days since I descended the mountain, I hadn’t stopped once. My wounds grew worse each time, and I’d even lost my life once.