Chapter 111: Do You Know Philip K. Dick? (Requesting Monthly Votes!)

The crowd was stunned, then realized: the late Supreme Emperor’s descendants were not only Di Wuming—he had another heir, Di Wushuang.

Glass shards rained down over Wang Cheng, coating his face as well; he was utterly dumbfounded, his eyes filled only with deep terror, his face pale as death, lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

“Lin Yan, if I only saw you as a burden, I would never have brought you here. But you must promise me one thing: don’t push beyond your limits. If anything happens to you, I could never forgive myself,” Jiang Dahao said with utmost seriousness.

Qin Jiangfeng wasted no time; he had transformed from a midfielder into a competent coach, analyzing the shortcomings of the first half and offering multiple suggestions for how to handle the starting team in the second half.

“I don’t know how far—it’ll probably take two or three more days,” Da Hu said, puffing out smoke from his homemade cigarette, which he called a “Flying Leg.” The smoke made me and Yang Tiancong cough incessantly.

At eight o’clock, the recitation event officially began. As with all programs, the host always delivered some polite remarks before it started.

Naturally, not everyone could blend into the mundane world like Ye Chen and the other Tianmen Saints, quietly gathering intelligence and learning about the Gu Lan Continent without disturbing ordinary society.

“Why aren’t those two fighting?” Zhang Xingyuan asked in confusion; they had already reached the highway, and a taxi had just passed by.

Su Mi recoiled in terror, stumbling back until she leaned against the rear wall, barely avoiding falling. She lifted her head, helplessly gazing at Qi Long’s unusually joyful expression.

Looking at the unfamiliar number on his phone screen, Mo Tianyue considered for a moment, then directly hung up.

What strange brothers—they each longed for the other’s immediate death, yet neither would deliver a fatal blow. Who knows what deep hatred had turned their brotherly bond into this.

Thanks to its agile reaction, it barely escaped! And as it fled, it even snatched up a large, plump rabbit.

Seeing Stone’s condition, Bater grew frantic, threw off the gear on his shoulder—it flew fifty to sixty meters and crashed to the ground with a clang, bouncing twice.

The mages, meanwhile, stepped back in unison, gripping their staves, their faces briefly pale—they too were shaken by the sword being bent by the hammer.

Here, even a beggar could become a millionaire overnight, enjoying the pleasures of having beauties on either side.

By now, the Northern Zhou army had occupied Puyang Commandery for three days. Originally, Yu Chijiong planned to continue eastward within these two days, but after losing the army’s grain supplies, he had no choice but to halt his eastern advance once again.

Chen Fan watched for a while, then remembered something—he moved his hand, and a silver blade-shadow and a crimson blade-shadow appeared in his left and right hands respectively.

“W-who are you?!” After a long moment, the Emperor of Jing finally reacted, pointing at the refined man with shock and fury.

“Stop yelling, get up!” With a sharp crack, Li Yang lashed his belt across Liu Jiajia’s buttocks, making the sleazy man flinch—but he dared not say a word.

As he thought of these things, Ouyang Wei issued orders to each army unit, and the forces swiftly mobilized. But because his total troop strength had dropped by over twenty thousand compared to just a few days ago, managing the response grew increasingly difficult.

On the black market, a pound of fatty pork could sell for two yuan, but wild boar meat only fetched one or one point three.

Just as Su Lü grew rigid with tension, the thin blanket covering her waist was pulled up to her shoulders.

Few neighbors were merchants; apart from Xu Xiaofei, none knew Mo Chen’s identity, assuming he was some distant relative of hers.

Hearing Qin Wuli’s words, Gong Zhiyu’s eyes, once as lifeless as ashes, flickered back to life with a glimmer of hope.

The suited man screamed in terror, scrambled to his feet, and signaled the remaining few to wildly charge toward Chen Shixing.

Ye Xingchen nodded slightly, then slowly slipped his hand into his mouth and pulled out a slip of paper from beneath his tongue.

Indeed, a broken icebreaker lay sunken on the seabed—the “Lenin.” The vessel had originally been built by the Soviet Union, brought here by Ju Zhengzong from Hei Tian’e Port, and had lain buried in Gao Tianyuan for twenty-one years.

The Lord of Youlan City unleashed another grand technique, but having already used one just moments ago, the Youhan Sword now appeared grand in spectacle, yet in reality delivered only the full force of the weakest True King.

She stepped toward the venue, revealing her long, snow-white legs, her figure graceful and elegant, like a fully bloomed peony.

The next morning, the Sect Master, pressed for time, rushed ahead with Sheng Xing; the remaining disciples were led by Ye Xingchen.

Meanwhile, the police also seized several major assets of the Xinglong Gang, causing Ma Sanxi to writhe in anguish—these were his most profitable entertainment venues. He summoned several elders and pulled strings through city-level connections, yet still failed to reclaim his territory.

The trickster, Wu You, adhered to the principle that deceiving others required no taxes, and relentlessly misled Liu Bei. Coupled with the rampant superstition of the late Eastern Han, where even Zhang Jiao could rally a whole sect, Liu Bei and his companions truly believed him.

These items were certainly not for Xia Tingbai—they were clearly prepared for Wu Anping.

As the saying goes, when sick, one grasps at any remedy; now, Fang Hong saw or heard anything, and immediately wondered if it could save his child.