Chapter 153: Larry King (4k)

Wearing a dark blue striped pajama, he suddenly appeared in the Mathematics Department office of Queens College, City University of New York; even though Chen Jingrun had pinched his own thigh the moment he entered the room to confirm this was reality and not a dream, he still felt an intense sense of unreality.

This sense of unreality had begun the instant he received the phone call.

Caller ID did not exist yet.

Caller ID sounded simple, but this feature had never been

“No, but pretty much—it changes based on your environment. There’s no single fixed state,” the big-headed one explained.

The demonic qi carried a chilling cold, while the fire spirit qi was yang; Beidou let out a low grunt, furrowed his brow, beads of sweat covering his forehead—his expression was subtle, yet his pain was extreme, his body caught in a clash of ice and fire.

This killing aura was extremely powerful, so Dan Tai Mingyue staggered, burst out of the wooden hut, and ran away.

Under Liang Dong’s control, the scene slowed dramatically; otherwise, the speed of their battle would have been invisible even to Zhao Hongde, let alone three ordinary people.

These details all flashed into Wei Yan’s vision at a glance, and simultaneously, four spiritual senses swept across him in an instant.

He Hu immediately stepped forward with heavy steps, crossed the threshold, then turned and gently closed the two wooden doors.

After a long while, his hand fell upon the string of yuan beads around her neck, extracted a single drop of blood—prepared in advance, belonging to her—and gently dripped it onto the yuan bead, then enveloped the bead in golden spectral light before slowly withdrawing it.

The next morning, Liang Dong was awakened by the sound of the door opening; his spiritual force had not been retracted all night, and he sensed anyone approaching immediately.

“Even Kamigame isn’t a match,” Yan Gang sighed, recalled Kamigame, paused, then tossed a Poké Ball—Rhyhorn appeared on the battlefield.

“Is this the warship you’ve been building all along? It’s truly magnificent—where’s the Peace?” Malu was seeing this warship for the first time and was deeply stunned; it was far larger than the Peace, even bigger than the Archangel.

“Qianyan, you…” Mo Xiaoran thought she was about to reveal the secret of her origins and hurriedly spoke to stop her.

Xiao Lingxiao, hearing the Fourth Prince bring up this matter at such a critical moment, pretended to be confused, as if he’d forgotten his own words, his face blank.

On New Year’s Eve, a strange phenomenon occurred throughout City A: vehicles on the roads sharply decreased, pedestrians became sparse; Feihu drove, deeply curious, his eyes constantly scanning around—this was fresh and strange to him, a first-time outsider spending the New Year away from home.

Of course, among so many guests, those wearing masks were few; most who came here to play were bosses with their own companies or enterprises.

Xiao Lingxiao, sprawled on the ground, recoiled his hand in shock; the old Taoist also sensed the killing aura, snapped his hand up, and used his invisible force to block the flying object.

Qin Qianjue spent two relatively peaceful months in the Western Courtyard, during which she finally accepted, with resignation, the reality of her transmigration into this tragedy. She also came to understand a bit about the fellow named Zhuan Sun Ji—thanks entirely to her maid Ping’er’s endless explanations.

“Thank Your Majesty’s favor, but this humble subject cannot accept it,” Ma Qingfeng bowed slightly and said calmly.

“Big brother three, I hate you so much!” Ling’er finally screamed, tears falling like a string of pearls.

Ma Qingfeng felt as if he were the sovereign of this entire world, truly possessing the power to turn heaven upside down.

He paused, then stared straight at her and said, “I just didn’t expect that by this meeting, you had already become Princess Rui’s consort.” As he spoke, a flicker of disappointment vanished from his eyes—perhaps even he didn’t realize it.