Chapter 82

"Maniac, do you even know what you're saying?"

Captain Cook's expression darkened.

Wu Wang merely shrugged and said, "I know perfectly well—due to the unique rotating cylinder design, a revolver theoretically cannot jam."

"You know you still..."

Mid-sentence, Captain Cook narrowed his eyes.

He had already suspected since the other man fired five consecutive empty rounds—that this kid was cheating.

Speaking, Cro raised his right hand slightly; a faint blue light suddenly surged from his palm, then he clenched his fist toward a nearby chair.

Unfortunately, his expression was aimed at the wrong person—Peng Lin didn't care a bit about his so-called counterattack.

Finally, on a certain day a hundred years later, Huo Xincheng finally stepped out of Yan Mo’s core—no, it was Wang Yue’s body that emerged; this time, Wang Yue’s eyes were crystal clear, no longer clouded by confusion.

The Beggar Sect members fell silent; the sudden madness of their once-respected elder was unbearable for the sect.

Hearing his final lewd laugh, I regarded him with new eyes—I’d always thought he was just a quiet type, but I never imagined he was not only quiet but also secretly sinister.

After ending his call with Park Seong-yeon, Gong Ping returned to find Bai Hua and General Ram engaged in intimate conversation.

"Indeed, I was deeply concerned at the time, which is why I agreed to let Wang Shouren lead the troops into battle!" Emperor Zhengde nodded.

Zhang Xingxing, seated inside Sun Wukong’s ear, secretly studied Queen Mother, but noticed a veil of white mist seemed to obscure her face, making her true features impossible to discern.

"Respected Cangyun Preliminary Master, this old man Yuanmu thanks you for the great vow you’ve made for the Rakshasa clan," Yuanmu said, unusually serious.

Xu Zihao’s eyes were fixed on Lan Mei, unaware that the bunch of bastards had directly charged toward them.

They chanted over the pitch-black cauldron; the ritual incantations flowed like water—ancient, weathered, and eerie.

Meanwhile, just over ten zhang before Xiao Yuanshan, after this sudden turn of events, the Martial Master had also broken his usual demeanor, standing motionless with a grave expression on his face.

But seeing Lei Xiang’s injuries, the two imprinting masters still winced—Lei Xiang’s chest bore a penetrating wound, and he had held on this long; had his own cultivation and physical constitution not been exceptional, the blood loss alone would have killed a normal person several times over.

After parting with Meng Yan Yan and Meng Jiao Jiao, he wandered the garden searching for Yun Xiyao’s figure.

As he spoke, Liang Yucheng waved his hand; the fireball on his palm instantly struck beside Xie.

Facing Qiqi’s anger, Sun Wukong wore a wry smile, yet his happiness was plain to see; Sun Wutian felt the same—it seemed that bickering was simply how their family lived.

"Ultraman Father, aren’t you going to act?" Zheng Hao continued eating his ice cream calmly.

For them, the internal specs of the phone were utterly foreign—they knew nothing at all.

So when Tang Ding and Daya came to check, since it was a joyful funeral, the Fu family had already prepared all the gongs and drums, the coffin, the bearers, and the family members were all dressed in mourning, ready to bury the old master.

But now it seemed those people had also become trapped in this ice cave maze and failed to escape, eventually starving to death inside.

This was Zhang Tian Sheng’s next goal: forging a suit of armor and a good weapon; only with these two items could Zhang Tian Sheng further strengthen his combat power.

The two mutually restrained each other, normally evenly matched—but now the Nine-Petal Golden Lotus was already claimed, empowered by Tai Xuan energy; the rigid, lifeless primordial malevolent qi was nothing but scattered stragglers—how could it possibly stand against the Nine-Petal Golden Lotus?