Chapter 269

“Aren’t you all trapped too? What’s there to laugh at?” Bai Jun charged at his former enemy, slamming his massive fist forward.

After bidding farewell to the shopkeeper, Jing Rou returned peacefully to her bedroom, by which time Zhu Jie and Lin Shuang had already woken up.

When the silver humanoid heard the black-armored wolfman’s words, he sneered in contempt and spoke dismissively.

“Let them burn. Let them burn.” Xiao Han showed no fear at all; instead, he grabbed Yang Luo by the collar and searched him.

For her, Hong Hu coming to take her out of prison meant a turning point had arrived—wherever she was going… what good would asking do? Even if they told her, would she know where it was? Did she have any say in whether she went or not?

Lin Long was about to charge at Lin Guanghan when he struck him with a fatal blow—his face changed, for he spotted a strong man running toward this direction.

After returning to the Immortal Realm, he killed Wan Du, Wan Xie, Wan Yao, and countless unknown creatures, rescuing his beloved. Only two tasks remained unfinished.

“Impossible—I have no talent for cultivation; becoming a martial artist was already a miracle!” Though Fang Xing’s prestige was immense, this dreamlike claim left everyone skeptical.

The subsequent development of events was absurd: this pawn abandoned by Shanghai was invited over by Shenzhen.

He wasn’t sure if the character “Yang” meant the Heaven Yang Sect, but the character “Yue” he remembered vividly—because when that luanniao came to break off the engagement, her robe bore the exact same character.

He said this and turned to walk back, but Su Ran didn’t move—she grabbed his arm.

This time, the Han army formed a wedge formation: one division advanced forward, two others flanked on either side, charging toward Zhang Shitou’s central forces among the Yellow Turbans.

The old man not only had a youthful face and white hair, but also exuded an ethereal aura; he wore a pure white Daoist robe embroidered with Taiji symbols on the sleeves, chest, and back, holding a fly whisk in his arms as he sat in deep meditation, fast asleep—his appearance looked truly divine.

As the golden light faded, all aura vanished, spiritual energy fully retracted, no one could sense his spiritual realm anymore.

More than a decade ago, Morgan Stanley had already established a joint venture in China before Goldman Sachs—this was China International Financial Corporation.

“This cannot be allowed to continue,” Yi Teng thought, his heart trembling as he witnessed everything at the settlement site—he felt utterly drained, powerless, yet dared not shout to stop it, forced to let the situation fester.

Hundreds of Shu Mountain disciples were instantly captured, transforming into pools of foul-smelling blood in the endless black mist, raining down from the sky.

The remaining ten zodiacs arrived following the trail and saw the corpses of the “Soul-Seeking Dog” and the “Earth-Digging Rat.”

Xue Changyu attended to everyone meticulously; Xue Changdong stood like a clear pine and bright moon, admired by many, while Xue Changsheng yawned endlessly, rolling his eyes in frustration—since his sister returned, his father scolded him more, always comparing him to Xue Chang’an.

After leaving the room, Jiang Chen took a bottle of his favorite chilled wine, walked into the living room, and sat down in front of the television.

Before the group could draw near, a sharp “shiiii” rang out—a dart struck the ground right before them.

The two had no airs; Cao Jinxing learned many “Zongqi”-level Jianghu common sense during their conversation, realizing his former twenty-odd years had been wasted—useful information gained in these two days surpassed all he’d learned before.

The symbol glowed with a faint golden light, like blocks of metallic prism-shaped iron, yet far harder than iron.

Zhao Jiabao saw Lin Lang to the door, watched him enter the elevator, exchanged goodnights, then closed the door.

Cao Jinxing was no legendary martial hero, yet he accomplished everything a hero could—balancing loyalty to the throne with righteous valor, earning universal admiration.

At this moment, Lin Yun’s gaze held an unshakable resolve. Only one herb remained—once obtained, the mark in Lin Zhan’s dantian could be removed. No matter what, Lin Yun would find this final herb.

Waves of delighted screams erupted across the refugee zone—even the Ayn Star people from the former Ni Cheng territory couldn’t contain their joy, laughing, running, and shouting.

Nowadays, everyone was obsessed with looks; as soon as Mu Sheng appeared, everyone around him instantly paled in comparison.

One hundred and ten thousand versus fifteen thousand—one ten thousand was not the same as another; they had to not only master battlefield conditions but also analyze overall strategic posture—a true chasm too vast for many commanders to cross.

At this moment, Kong and Yuan had just stepped into the prayer hall, preparing to scout before letting players follow—when suddenly the door slammed shut, and from the side hall where the choir stood, a chant-like song began to rise.

Gu Cheng could only give up, luring the zombie uncle to the far corner of the room, then pushed tables and chairs to block him in, returning himself to inspect the wooden crate.

Gu Chi reviewed the surveillance footage, found the van that kidnapped Li Ying, checked the license plate—but discovered it was a cloned plate.

Just as Gu Cheng ordered the team to hold position while he observed the camp through the AX338’s high-magnification scope, a sudden urgent horn blast echoed from afar—the demons in the camp rapidly assembled and marched toward the east.

“Qi Heng’s guess is reasonable. Let’s split up again and search—see if we can find another exit,” Luo Shixian declared firmly.

When the two originally founded Blood Eye, the team had grown to hundreds—Gu Haoyang would never interfere, but he couldn’t ignore it—it was his life’s work, those people were his brothers. If he walked away, they would surely fall apart.

“What about the High Heaven? Did they take any action after learning of this?” Inarius asked.

The lead Mongol officer’s face darkened instantly; he gripped his waist saber and roared at the white-browed Daoist who was about to withdraw.

It was nearly three o’clock, and the elevator still wouldn’t open—she pressed the emergency call button again; this time someone responded, calming her to wait patiently while repair crews were dispatched.

“She’s not the kind of girl who sleeps with boys on a whim—don’t overestimate yourself!” Xiao Xiang set down his empty bottle, his expression growing calm.