Chapter 88: The True Players in the Space Race (7/10)

Korolev, the core figure of Soviet spaceflight, was hailed as the father of Soviet spaceflight.

On the cover of Time magazine, Korolev had no face, not even a name—similar to the black-faced figure from Conan.

This was because his identity was highly classified; America knew only that such a person existed, but knew nothing of his real name or detailed background.

In America, Korolev had only one codename: ChiefDesig.

Lin’s mother prepared a full table of delicious dishes; her eldest son said he and the others were preparing lessons in town and would return only on Mid-Autumn Day.

“You killed those people in Chang’an,” Qin Jing’an said with certainty, gazing calmly at Nan Ji with a relaxed smile.

Yi, Er, and San were utterly at ease, diligently courting the future mistress—their eagerness was so excessive it was astonishing, causing the sect to learn that Ye Wuyou was already betrothed and to keep a respectful distance.

With Gu Qinglian forcibly smoothing things over, though Gu Lao Ye did not punish her, the matter ended on a sour note.

As her voice faded, before she could think further, a cascade of soft, relentless kisses landed on her face and neck; Jiang Nu, uncertain in her movements, gripped the lapel of his robe, the smooth fabric wrinkling into a crumpled ball in her hands.

Blood threads stretched across Gu Yin’s chest, but little blood flowed out; though it looked fatal, it was merely a superficial wound. She lay stunned on the ground, bewildered why she had not yet bled to death.

Though heading toward Piaomiao Valley was better than crossing the towering mountains alone, Piaomiao Valley itself lay nestled among those same towering peaks—the difference was negligible. Yet with Wu Qianxue and Bei Jue now with them, their crossing of the mountains had become considerably safer.

Xiao Xiao gasped, frozen, staring wide-eyed at the face so close. Before she could cry out, he silenced her with his lips.

Helihong thrived under Bai Jianan’s rule, yet beyond this place, she remained utterly unmoved.

Tang Nanyu hesitated, glancing at the quiet, moon-white figure, who smiled faintly at him, composed and calm.

No wonder—modern games featured a Spartan ascending to heaven and slaying the ancient Greek gods. Though this offered no real reference, it clearly illustrated the Spartan image: bloodthirsty, ruthless, and immensely formidable.

The area was sealed tight inside and out, completely locking it down, leaving no chance for Han Yueying to escape.

After a few minutes, I still forced myself, despite nausea and fear, to observe again and follow the blood trails to find them. These coconut crabs, driven by hunger, were audaciously bold; when I approached again, they merely waved their large claws in warning, showing no intention to flee.

Yang Yantai smiled, then sat down before Howard and asked the server for a glass of fruit wine.

Yun Zi paused to consider—the surname was shared by the two from the Red Demon Manor; could this person be one of theirs?

The Mini in the distance executed a flawless drift across the road, then came to an abrupt stop.

Gao Haoyu was on night shift and had already gone to attend to patients; He Manzi and Cai Jun were scrubbing their hands.

The princess of Yi City’s face brimmed with contempt and arrogance—clearly raised in luxury, she looked down on Nuo Sha, another Deeproot Child, wondering how a backwater bumpkin could hold the same status as her in her father’s eyes.

Nearly everyone was deeply absorbed in building their blocks, having cast aside all distractions.

At first, several reckless fools tried to step forward, but the outcome was obvious—they were immediately beaten senseless.

When Shui Mei arrived in the mortal realm, her grandmother repeatedly warned her: if she ever encountered someone using this treasure, she must avoid them. Today she had witnessed the true power of the Demon-Binding Rope—could it belong to Prince Rong Mofeng?