Chapter 153: A Thousand Li Journey (3) (6200)

The next day was March 8th, once Labor Women’s Day, now turned by capital into an annual Goddess Festival through consumerism.

But whether goddesses or whatever, on this day Chen Yan and Gu Xiao niang could only huddle miserably in their hotel room, each wrapped in a blanket, leaning against the bed to slowly recover.

Chen Yan mustered what little energy he could—he had still managed to hold out that morning.

Zhang Jingsong thought, hadn’t Zixia Club been doing fine too? But then he reconsidered: Zixia Club’s business was negligible in Wu Ling’s eyes, and back then, Wu Xianqi was still the Organization Minister of the Provincial Party Committee—things were different now; he had to avoid suspicion. Wu Xianqi was likely a man who cherished his reputation.

Yu Zhe, while protesting, suddenly realized: since the tourists from Ageniu Village might not be aliens, there was no need to dig deeper—he should prepare for next semester’s studies and deepen his martial cultivation, for danger was drawing near.

Could it be that the System Old Man was actually Hongjun, the Dao Ancestor from ancient primordial times? That made sense—the truth must be exactly this, otherwise how could all these coincidences and the System Old Man’s omnipotence be explained?

Hearing Xu Yunbiao say this, Duan Tianya nodded with relief; as long as all exits of Binhai were sealed, he wasn’t worried Gongben Zhiyi could fly away with wings.

Feeling the power of Song Que’s slash, Lu Wuchen stepped back several paces, tracing the hexagram positions of Lingbo Microstep, his long sword swirling as dense shadows filled the air, sword qi surging like a towering tidal wave toward Song Que.

Yet, upon reflection, Cai Mingzhao’s words held merit—it had to be resolved sooner or later, better to settle it early; so he clenched his teeth and immediately pulled out his phone from his pocket.

At that moment, Lu Zhiqiang, utterly bloated, suddenly opened his tightly shut eyes and spoke to Qin Tian in a tone dripping with aristocratic leisure.

Sensing the danger, Makawa Shinran and his thugs immediately retreated, dodging the hail of bullets—but one subordinate, slightly slower in fleeing, took a stray bullet to the thigh and collapsed on the ground, clutching his left leg.

Du Fuwei stared intently at Lu Wuchen, a hint of admiration in his gaze; since ancient times, the martial world has always seen new faces replace the old, and now, looking at the man before him, Du Fuwei felt the river’s current pushing forward, waves behind waves. This martial world was no longer theirs—but military affairs were not comparable to martial duels.

Xue Cheng strolled down the street as if no one else existed, ignoring every glance around him.

The gatekeeper grew even more puzzled—even if he missed his wife dearly, this was far too early.

Whoever hits them, they hit back; thus, the Ancient Sword Clan wouldn’t dare strike them, the Golden Phoenix Clan wouldn’t dare either, or else they’d force the Ancient Sword Clan into alliance with them; as for the Bone Clan, it was doubtful they could even defeat them.

Mo Jiuge spat out a mouthful of blood, but the monster inhaled sharply and absorbed the blood, then—to Mo Jiuge’s shock—its lips curled into a sinister smile.

Afterward, the two gradually grew familiar, and by coincidence discovered their homes were quite close; sometimes they fed the cat together and walked home together.

Seeing Ling Chen dodge his slash, Sang Delamu sneered, moved his left hand, and a flying dart shot toward Ling Chen’s chest at an unnatural angle.

That man was indeed the fool others described—not only clueless about charm, but also stubbornly single-minded, utterly beyond words.

Ling Chen thought to sever his own aura, then slowly crept toward the palace along the spider’s side.

Though the distance from here to Dongcheng wasn’t long, to accommodate Xu Tiantian, they stretched what should’ve been two hours into four.