Chapter 171: [You

Bang!!

Chen Yan spun in place on the ice, stabilized his body, then raised his gun and fired.

This shot didn’t deliver a fatal blow, but it pierced the leg of one of the monsters chasing him.

The monster screamed in pain and collapsed onto the ice, struggling to rise—yet this effort was clearly futile.

Chen Yan sneered and turned again.

“Laugh all you want, I’ve never seen legs this white, so what? Keep laughing and I’ll beat you into pulp!” Liu Wu shouted, embarrassed but feigning anger.

“Finally morning—starved to death all night. Gotta stretch and find something to eat,” Mu Zifei muttered, twisting his waist.

Mu Zifei glanced at it, understood roughly how to use it, then walked to the cushion and sat cross-legged.

“Yes, I said it—defeat me and you can pick any treasure from my Liu family!” Each word was almost forced through Liu Yun’s clenched teeth.

“Th-there’s… a… little bit…” Chen Xu couldn’t meet Zhao Jingwen’s stern gaze, so he reluctantly admitted some details.

The room seemed empty; he could get no help, so he lay where he was, rested awhile, then rose again.

Though he didn’t fully understand why the gap between the two Flame Emperors was so vast, Lin Hong could sense it had to do with status and Dragon Power value—Dragon Power’s utility went far beyond what Lin Hong had claimed in the square; it simply depended on who wielded it.

Wherever you go, this is the etiquette of human interaction—no one helps you without reason.

If these “impurities” and the “essence” of orthodox beliefs can coexist harmoniously throughout the Gray Realm, are they truly useless “impurities”?

“Whoa, Ke, how’d you get so strong?” Huang Yue suddenly popped out from some corner, grinning.

On Bili Island, Li Qinglu had indeed taught Bai Qin the Heavenly Mountain Six Yang Palm—but she never truly intended for Bai Qin to succeed in saving himself.

“Shh!” Bai Sheng clamped his hand over Shi Qian’s mouth, for he had heard people nearby.

“Then… alright!” Bu Wen’s expression flickered, but he kept his head down, muttering about the child’s crying, never looking up.

Seeing the crowd’s confused expressions, Xia Ding had his eunuch display the verdict on Ling Xia and the other two. After viewing it, the crowd grew even more puzzled: the judges for Qian Kun and Qiu Luobei had clearly been superior to Ling Xia’s, so why had they lost to him?

It’s like everyone’s retired, worked about the same length of time—others make four to five thousand a month, what about us? Just one or one and a half thousand.

An Qingxu saw this, so he turned and led the group out of the secret chamber to the main hall. Then he ordered servants to bring tea and snacks, and hurried off to the rear courtyard.

In his past life, Zhao Hong’s nephew and nephew-by-marriage, though a year and more apart in age, constantly bickered—but they especially loved being together, because they understood and adapted to each other so well; one day apart and they missed each other terribly, one day together and they needed at least three or five fights to feel satisfied.

The old man gazed out the window, his eyes shifting from the battlefield in the sky down to the common folk below, sighed faintly, and set down his teacup.

Yet the reality defied expectation: these people’s faith produced not a single ounce of belief energy—as if their faith were all fake. Not only the ordinary believers, but even the two high-ranking clergy who clearly served as execution hubs generated no belief energy whatsoever.

Yesterday the Emperor issued a final verdict on Bai Sheng; once the news spread, the one who felt the most vindicated was Gao Yana, so last night Gao Yana gathered friends, booked several tables at Fan Tower, and threw a grand celebration.