Chapter 120: Could Qi Hui Really Have Learned Something in the Military?

Two days later, the viewership ratings for "I Am a Special Forces Soldier" were released: an average of 2.22%, with a single-episode peak of 2.8%.

Truly leading by a massive margin!

Leading by a massive margin over its contemporaries, even surpassing the premiere ratings of some classic dramas.

On Weibo, Tieba, and Tianya Forum, netizens each gave their praise:

"Worth the wait—this drama really is good."

"I've only watched two episodes, but honestly, I'm already a little..."

Yes, perhaps he should have realized sooner—if she didn't love him, how could she be so kind to him? If she didn't love him, why would she question his connection with Zhang Yueying?

That Zhou guy is infamous as a vampire—every bird that flies over steals a feather, every dog that walks by loses a piece of skin.

On screen, the boy placed his fishing rod on the riverbank, cradled a cup of hot milk tea, and lay back comfortably in his chair.

"I possess the mysterious ancient mirror—a great fortune—I need not scheme and deceive like ordinary people just for a sliver of opportunity... I'm far luckier than them."

Zhang Jingqing studied Wu Gensheng for a while, then seemed to recall something, a flash of sharp light passing through her eyes.

Chen Bahuang gritted his teeth so hard his entire body's tendons bulged, his face twisting in agony.

Chixiao Sword trembled and hummed, crimson sword light swirling around its blade, sharp as blood, the sword aura growing ever more brilliant.

Lowering his head and raising his hand, his blurred vision faintly saw the loose skin on his arm, and beneath it, the weathered white bones.

Every member of the Black Stone Tribe grew up listening to the Prophet's stories; many primitive youths even dreamed of becoming Prophets when they grew up.

But because of the downpour, the area around Chen Lake still looked no different from night.

Under Hu Ran and Bai Wuchang's systematic training over these many days, I learned the detailed rank divisions—even Ghost Kings are divided into upper, middle, and lower tiers, like the gap between Zhang's Old Ghost and Yu Shan Wang. Ten Zhang's Old Ghosts tied together couldn't withstand three punches from Yu Shan Wang.

She knew perfectly well where this prescription came from, so now, when asking about Chen Anxia, she felt uneasy.

Just as Zhang Lang was awkwardly at a loss for words, preparing to escape under the pretense of needing to urinate, a melodious "Legend of the Peacock" ringtone rang from his pocket.

Although she now had hundreds of millions in assets, this was different—this was something worth 700 million U. S. dollars; she couldn't help but worry, couldn't help but be excited, couldn't help but be tense.

For some reason, a sudden sense of reluctance rose in her heart—yes, a faint attachment to this stranger she had "picked up."

Jiang Chuan and Fang Ya had completely lost their appetite, finished hastily, and returned home separately.

You Zuo suddenly understood why the clone had failed—because in his perception, Xie Fangqing, relying solely on her bloodline power, already possessed strength sufficient to rival his Ghost-God Realm self.

Slowly raising his head, the pirate stared at the blue sky and bright sunlight, yet felt icy cold all over, sweat breaking out across his body.

And the one with the worst expression was the Heaven Realm Ghost Warrior—his face darkened, his features aged, his eyes fixed intently on the shadow of the Heaven Ghost King within the thick yin-sha ghost energy.

And the personnel chosen by the Chief to accompany Tang En and join the Pioneers Organization had already been selected.

This time, the losses of Southern India were incomparable; although the Xia army made up only a small portion of the allied force with Pandya, they dominated the capture of cities and subsequent looting.

"Get out, Chen Fan, I hate you! Do you think I won't kick you down the stairs!" Su Qianqian feigned anger, picked up a cotton swab, dipped it in iodine, and shoved Chen Fan down onto the edge of the bed, roughly rubbing the bruise on his forehead.