Chapter 294: We Never Save Anyone

Tan Lili returned to the apartment.

Along with her, the three players—Ming Tian, Leng Yu Qing Fu, and the Landlady—also returned to the apartment.

After all, they lacked the ability to remain in the circus.

It couldn’t be that someone else would come to compete for the [Clown Identity] with the Page.

Moreover, there were matters that needed investigation in the apartment building.

Given the earlier cooperation and the Page’s mention to Ming Tian about the Tarot Guild’s leader.

Plus the knocking test last night.

Fifteen minutes later, over three hundred soldiers of the Independent Regiment’s First Battalion assembled at the entrance of Yang Village, then marched at full speed under Deputy Regiment Commander Kong Jie toward Wan Family Town.

The Martial Testing Stele trembled slightly; white dots at its base surged upward rapidly, soon reaching the number four mark.

Zhong Shengnan merely snorted and hung up the phone, clearly annoyed by Nian Chen’s tone, as if ordering a servant.

He led Xia Zhi to a side reception hall within the palace, where servants immediately brought fine wine; the two drank and conversed.

“Heh, didn’t you see how calmly he spoke to us? He probably wants a share of the pie!” I glanced at Fang Chenghu’s retreating back and muttered to myself.

Yun Tian smiled faintly; so far, none of these people had forced him to reveal his true cards—not even a warm-up, yet each spoke with astonishing arrogance.

This sight stirred a flush of heat in Nian Chen’s groin, reminding him of how Xiu Yun’s sister-in-law had done the same thing to him not long ago—that feeling… utterly indescribable.

But in the post-apocalypse, there was no real room for them to live lightly or happily; whenever Lu Xiran sought a peaceful life, misfortune always arrived unannounced.

This remark struck two birds with one arrow, effectively quenching Liu Honglian’s burning curiosity.

Under everyone’s gaze, a bare-chested, pitch-black figure sprinted swiftly toward them from afar.

“Ask them again—who’s the commanding officer? How many troops? And anything else—get as much detail as possible?” Zheng Ziming’s face darkened instantly; he rasped out the order.

The younger brother frantically dialed 120, then remembered the first-aid knowledge from military training, knelt on the ground, and tried to lift me up.

Far across the horizon, two meteors suddenly streaked across the sky—two beams of red and white light, like shooting stars, vanished instantly within the city.

Thus someone suggested to Zhao Chen that they kill all the horses and use them as rations. But Han Yanzhi considered that if the palace fell, they’d still need horses to escort the emperor to safety, and firmly opposed it, thus preserving the warhorses. Yet due to the palace’s severe food shortage, nearly a hundred horses were still slaughtered.

These twenty-eight were third-generation disciples of Huining Temple, yet none were weak in martial skill; especially the four leaders, whose prowess rivaled Huan Ji and others, merely lacking experience and refinement.

There was also a secret waterway leading to Zanglong Island, but only Meng Heng, Meng Huiming, Meng Jiming, and their trusted subordinates knew of it—even Zheng Sihai, a capable subordinate of Meng Heng, was unaware.

“The old weirdo was right.” Too many people judged by appearance; Yi Yongheng was used to it. You couldn’t punch someone just because they glanced at you.

Black eyes, black hair, but a European-style face, sufficiently pale skin, around early thirties, cleanly shaven beard, slightly curled hair neatly combed, even oil-slicked and glossy.

Deep night: thick clouds obscured the moon’s glow; fierce winds howled continuously. The streets of Hannan City were deserted, every household shut tight, save for a few day-and-night entertainment venues still brightly lit.