Chapter 217: The Alchemy Pavilion Uprising, the Tree of Sighs!

"Good evening, troupe master, I'd like to borrow your alchemy pavilion."

Wu Wang stood up from the ground, rubbing his head.

He brushed the dust off his clothes and surveyed the dilapidated theater.

Hmm, the building hadn't collapsed—what he'd just seen must have been a memory the ghost troupe master wanted him to witness.

But he didn't know why it had triggered a response from the Abyss God Seal.

This made Wu Wang question what had happened that night.

Perhaps it was also related to

After coordinating, Xiang Ru decisively consolidated the three squads into one, shifting from mobile warfare to formation combat, and ambushed the Western Qin Star's surveillance outpost on a neighboring planet.

Zhang Guodong's gaze carried the weight of murder; clearly, this secret was of extreme importance to the Li family and could not be leaked.

Wei Chenxi's words weren't false—after her transformation, Bai Wanru's entire body was nearly flawless, especially her skin, as delicate as an infant's. Though Wei Chenxi excelled in other areas, her skin was slightly inferior; overall, Bai Wanru edged out the victory by a narrow margin.

A dynasty could never rely solely on supreme imperial authority; the essence of imperial statecraft lay in checks and balances—two dogs that despised each other were always easier to control than a united pack.

"You! You dare insult me? I'll kill you right now!" Li Lizheng couldn't outargue Zhang Guodong; his face flushed crimson, and with a click, he raised his gun.

He had originally believed Ao Chen was immortal in this universe—even if his cultivated power was far below that of the Destroyer God, the Destroyer God could do nothing against this immortal cockroach.

At this moment, Arisilan understood and promptly fell silent, letting the Great Ming Emperor imagine what might come next.

These two, by appearance, demeanor, and tone of voice, were truly an odd pair—violent and cruel.

A faint smile slowly spread across Ling Feng's lips. Looking up, the entire sky was filled with thick, sticky pink threads, Cengcengpujuan, enveloping the entire Evil Lord Sect. Above, the sky was densely woven—the Source Array barrier's depth was impossible to fathom.

Unconsciously, Hua Weixia herself didn't notice that her tone toward Qiao Qiao had taken on the indulgent, sisterly affection of an elder sister toward a younger one.

Any cultivator born and raised on the Wild Star who won the Potential Dragon Battle and ascended the Potential Dragon List would bring the Heavenly Dao's favor upon the entire planet—every living being would be revitalized, their very essence of life dramatically enhanced.

Because they were dispersed, their efficiency was high; before the Yuan court's Tartars even realized it, these rebel soldiers had already reached the city walls.

After all, this order came from multiple Divine Emperors simultaneously—Lu Zheng's importance was obvious.

He recalled the myth of old: Sun Wukong blowing a strand of his hair, summoning countless Sun Wukongs, each raising the Ruyi Jingu Bang, slaying gods and slaying Buddhas alike.

Now, as the old monk reconsidered the matter, he realized he had gone too far. Zhu Zhongba had good reason to deny him delicious vegetarian dishes and sweet, juicy watermelons—he had no reply. The old monk began chanting sutras to reflect inwardly.

When Li Jue gave the order in Shanyuan County, eastern Hongnong Commandery, over a hundred thousand civilians, tens of thousands of Liangzhou soldiers—from commoners to the Three Ducal Ministers and Nine High Officials, even the supreme emperor himself—were forced to halt, not daring to advance an inch.

Ling Yanran instinctively took it, then covered her mouth with her other hand, barely suppressing a cry.

He had never felt this before; Nie Xiaofeng kept telling himself inwardly, yet the heaviness in his chest and this unprecedented sense of dread refused to fade.