Chapter 863

For Zhou Yi, his status as a thoroughly Chinese man was, in a way, more convenient—especially when he planned to use his album to criticize America.

He didn’t need to launch any self-criticism at all.

He would criticize America alone, without self-criticism, simply standing on the moral high ground to point fingers at America.

The kind that refused any rebuttal whatsoever.

Sometimes he really had to thank the publication from a few days ago.

Even if Confucianism didn’t hold the advantage on the five topics set by Xujiazhuang—losing was acceptable, Mianqiang could be tolerated—how could it be that on the five debate topics set by Confucian scholars themselves, the orthodox Confucian school lost every single one, unable to win back a single match?

“If you bought the gift, why didn’t you remind me?” Lin Yifan didn’t stop walking.

Xiao Zhimiao drew her bow and shot an arrow at Yuna; the arrow’s impact forced Yuna back a step, but she kept charging toward them.

After all, no one wants to endure the feeling of being looked down upon more than once.

By the morning of the third day, Liu Liang had gathered all the equipment needed to defeat the boss: a leather suit, a rifle, a pair of black iron boots, a pair of linen pants, and a stack of mint oil and jam in his inventory.

He could only trudge behind Liu Liang down the floating island to the back of the main camp, before the dungeon gate—its door inlaid with skeletons of corpses, its walls built of bone bricks, radiating a hellish dread; under such circumstances, the goods traded here felt even more ironic and terrifying.

Before them stretched a massive trench, with only a chain bridge lowered for passage; a row of soldiers dressed as knights stood before the trench, attacking the monsters beside them to block their advance.

For instance, Zhu Youjian in the imperial palace—he wasn’t particularly lustful for a virtuous ruler, yet his harem included Empress Zhou, Consort Tian, Consort Yuan, and others, all stunning beauties; Zhu Youjian was deeply satisfied with them, feeling himself the happiest man in the world.

But what surprised Xu Yuan was that he saw almost no emotional fluctuation on her face—only an unchanging coldness.

Seeing Liu Wei still dared to resist, Li Nianming’s rage surged uncontrollably; his slaps rained down like they cost nothing.

I didn’t sell my soul to you, so naturally I come and go as I please; returning is my own ability, coming back is me giving you face. Change the time? That’s up to whether I feel like it.

He only became a prince today because, long ago, Wang Jun saved the current emperor’s life.

The designer had installed the forced cooling system precisely as a precaution, to prevent the accelerator from overheating and exploding; at this moment, the Flame God’s accelerator had reached maximum power, its core temperature hitting 2123 degrees, triggering the forced cooling system.

Unfortunately, too much time had passed; the gang he had hired back then had already been broken up by other criminal factions. Its members were dead or fled—he could no longer identify the men who had acted that day.

Han Miao scored only eight points in the first half, but he handed out ten assists, perfectly activating his teammates.

Amid the old age hanging in the corners of his eyebrows and eyes, he could no longer detect even a trace of decay or despair; instead, he radiated an unfathomable menace and an inexplicable sense of power.

Listening to her, Zhou Ran smiled and nodded toward Gu Chengze, walking toward him, while still answering Ming Ziqing’s question.

“It must be the main base of the Goryeo spies!” Mo Ziqian said quietly, his tone tinged with melancholy, a faint bitter smile on his lips.

He had long marveled at how Lady Hou and the Beigu Mountain Sect’s technique [Plucking Flower Hand] controlled their internal Qi and all surrounding matter, yet he could never understand how.