Chapter 829

At this point, it no longer matters whether this thing is real or even possible.

The nonstop cheers and screams inside the theater speak for themselves.

Flashbulbs flashed continuously, capturing every spectator’s excitement, and as the song built, the main cast of “No Thieves in the World” filed in behind Zhou Yi—

“I asked myself: have I made it this far?”

Liu Dehua, who portrayed the male lead

Hmm, interesting—its form changed. I wonder if I can use it later? Since the chance is right here, why not gather more?

“I’ve taken all the loans I could,” Shangguan Qiudie was saying, when suddenly a paper kite flew in—it was sent by the gatekeeper of Baihua Valley to mid-level leaders like her, reporting that a donkey outside was braying loudly, as if it had gone mad.

He cursed inwardly; he’d just broken out in a cold sweat, barely missing being flung, car and all, straight into the great river.

He grabbed Nie Qingqing’s wrist—the warmth radiating from her palm instantly melted his chill, filling his heart with heat.

The OB team’s counterattack at this moment seemed utterly feeble, but Yu Huan, who had teleported in for support, had already arrived; even with most of his teammates dead, he still strode forward without hesitation toward the UF team.

Jiang Dong answered and stepped out of the hall, just as a yin soldier drifted in—this man was extremely powerful, likely already in the Second Qi Circulation Realm. Instantly, Jiang Dong felt a bad premonition: this man would surely take the Ba Yi position.

The young man leading them, Huang Peng, had apparently come with his sister after she married into the city.

This building was in terrible shape; the stairs had rotted away, and the only way up was via a fire escape.

“I’d planned to spare your life, but now I see it’s pointless. Shangguan, today you die!” Liu Chen’s voice drifted up from the deep pit; his body flashed out of the crater, wrapped in green light, appearing before Shangguan Weiming.

Without activating the Om mantra, the sight froze Jiang Dong rigid—a massive, pitch-black square stone, exerting infinite gravitational force; without the Biling Pearl’s protection, even Jiang Dong’s Saint-grade body would be instantly disintegrated into its most fundamental components.

Ye Bai devoured all the corpses and their Nascent Souls; his memories and strength both surged upward at breakneck speed.

“Jiang Chen” held Ma Shuyao, then his smile vanished, replaced by a cold, deadly expression.

It’s not so much that I still doubt her—it’s that I desperately wish she were one of the Organization’s own, like Guan Ling, so that my feelings might still drive me to protect her from being trapped here forever.

“Hmph, I hope someone takes him down when he leaves Xufeng City. I’m certain the Sima family won’t let this go,” someone spat with hatred—mostly students from Chenhan Academy, some former followers of Mo Ji.

Within the valley, Moon Lake cuts through its center; buildings cling to its shores, built against the mountains, while in the lake’s heart lies an island, a scenic spot and the quiet cultivation ground of the Seven Moon Lake Cultivators.

Mu Xuefu knew he was moved; her arms around his neck clenched into fists, gripping tightly. His hot breath brushed against her, damp and rapid, like spring rain—soft, clinging, warm. She turned her face slightly, frowning where he couldn’t see.

The brilliant light faded completely, leaving only two young figures suspended in midair, gazing at each other—then they both smiled.

Of course, the Original Sword can’t match the Tianwen Sword, and Long Jingyun’s blade can’t rival Long Xiang’s—but none of that matters; the real question is: how fast and how sharp must Yang Ruosheng’s sword be to shatter his?