Chapter 133

131、Spring Plague Ghost (5K)

Xuan Gui’s sudden change truly puzzled the elder Xuanwu clan members; though they were confused, Xuan Gui had long held great authority within the clan, so none dared ask, merely answering “Yes” before leaving the hall with their doubts intact.

Tang Deyu was overjoyed, rushing over to pick up the beer, shaking it—half a can still remained.

“No one,” the head chef said coldly; his men were not to be lent out. His own tasks were already overwhelming—he had no time for others.

But I am the strongest human. Finding an eight-legged toad is easy; finding someone with talent worthy of being my heir—how hard is that?

Outside Jiubao Liuli City, beneath a sacred statue nearly two thousand meters tall, Wang Jiuxian looked up—the statue blocked out the entire sky.

Several fire-element sword qi shot out from Li Xiu’s side—the one who unleashed them was the man with the copper basin on his head. Li Xiu leapt sideways to dodge; the fire-element sword qi scattered wildly.

Su Cha shook her head with a smile; she wasn’t boasting, nor did she intend to surpass Min Chen—she simply trusted herself. She had never set anyone as her target.

Three grassland tribe cultivators in strange attire, all at Foundation Establishment, stared in awe at the corpse of the monkey-eagle beast below.

So he was desperate to find stronger demons, to test his newly acquired power.

Seeing the gun in the man’s hand, they dared not speak a word, immediately hoisting the corpse and fleeing in a flash.

“Throw them out, you brat,” the fat man sneered, pointing at Mi Yan—until a Grand Inner Palace expert lunged forward and punched him, shattering several teeth.

Xiao Qi’s back was drenched in cold sweat; he felt it was all over, eyes tightly shut, collapsing straight down—until, just as he believed death was certain, he suddenly felt himself caught around the waist, held upright.

Xuan Yuan Jiang raised his sword, spirit energy surging, launching a devastating sword technique at one of the wolf clan’s Outflow-stage warriors.

Yet for some reason, Chu Tingchuan paused the moment his lips touched the bowl’s rim. Mo Liang felt an urge to shove the bird’s nest soup straight into his mouth. But she also sensed vaguely that Chu Tingchuan already knew the soup contained poison—otherwise, he wouldn’t keep stopping at precisely this moment.

“Wu wu wu, you bastard,” Ouyang Qian could hold back no longer, flinging herself into Lin Tian’s arms.

The Golden Core contained the entirety of Immortal Cloud’s cultivation—its quantity was immense—but Xia Tian’s demand was even more terrifying: after absorbing one-third of a Golden Core mid-stage expert’s core, he had only regained his Cultivation of Abstaining from Grain mid-stage.

In less than half a stick of incense, over thirty ink-robed disciples perished in midair; the rest, seeing the terrifying boy like a god of slaughter, fled in panic, covering their heads.

“What’s going on? How many times have I said—no daytime brawls over grudges? If you’ve got guts, fight in the woods—live or die, your business.” Jing Lingyan largely left the rear districts of Liuhun Street to fend for themselves, though Death Gods were nominally assigned.

“No wonder the old man dared fight the blue-haired demon—he’s become this powerful,” Xu Yinzi muttered, suddenly startled—if Dong Shen Zhonggu had reached the Heavenly Realm, then what of his elder brother?

In Huaxia, Liu Yiqing hadn’t slept well for days; dark circles hung under his eyes, leaving He Ruiqin and Liu Xinhui at a loss for words.

“This gambling stone won’t turn out worthless…,” he murmured, doubt creeping into his mind.

As a coach at Shenyun Martial Arts Gym, he taught combat techniques and simple weapons like the nunchaku; this extendable baton served both as his personal defense tool and teaching aid, always carried with him.

When placing the first move in chess, one must consider not only the opponent’s possible responses but also one’s own counter-strategies—each move demands foresight of three steps ahead. Such intense mental exertion was too much for Cheng Yujin—he quit after only two days.

Next came Monkey’s recovery. His injuries were severe; returning to the field hospital was too distant and unsafe.

Tong Yi had once shared a fleeting intimacy with him; though both had acted indifferent, even explicitly stating they’d show no mercy if they met again, seeing her beaten—publicly humiliated—was impossible to ignore.

Holding Zhan Kong Sword, I did not act immediately, but forcibly restrained my emotions, thinking how best to rescue Zhang Qingrui.

Li Shang gave Liu Yiqing a glance, turned, and stepped out, joining Ya Heng in the hallway to book a table via mobile phone.

Gu Bu’s head severed cleanly at the neck without warning beneath the white line—tragically, he had prepared thoroughly, even secretly donning a defensive immortal artifact granted by his grandfather.

Lan Ruohao’s tone was dripping with sarcasm; Hai Yidong grew even more uneasy, glancing at Hai Ruoxi beside him—had she done something?

Xuan Yuan, ignorant of worldly affairs, was baffled by this simple question! He recalled past troubles, paused, and opened his mouth to speak.

Fan Zongyao and the others clearly saw the three strange figures leap from Xuan Yuan’s body, then stagger and flee into the mist.

Even now, recalling Wang Xuanming sent chills down their spines—if such a powerful being were to appear twice, what would become of them?

Zhou Hui was heartbroken, overwhelmed with grief; his son, separated from his mother, cried incessantly, driving him to despair. In his anguish, he clutched the child and rushed to the lake’s edge, shouting: “Hongyu, I come with you…” Then he closed his eyes, leaping in to drown.

But the tiger demon was clearly superior; in that instant, as Kai Tian was about to strike it, it broke free from the vines’ grip.

Jiang Qiuge once told him that spirit stones were the universal “currency” of the cultivation world—they could serve as medium of exchange for trade, or as “treasures” for personal storage. Spirit stones inherently possessed “value”; clearly, they were fundamental “treasures” for cultivators’ training.

Zhen Nan Chun waved his hand, ordering the waiter to bring up the wine—he intended to get thoroughly drunk with Qi Yubai.

A thunderous boom, then sharp, cracking sounds like shattering glass—the entire earth shook violently.

My gaze turned icy—like being stared at by an utterly cruel beast, or like being watched in a midnight wilderness by ravenous predators. For a cultivator of the fox clan, such a gaze had only one meaning: this old fox had eaten humans—and not just once.