Chapter 243: Secret Realm (Requesting Monthly Tickets)

The purple-gold hammer was about five feet long—longer than a blade or sword, shorter than a spear, fashioned in the style of a palace hammer.

But the hammer head was unusually massive; normally, hammer heads in weapons were no larger than a sea bowl, either round or club-shaped, and some were even no bigger than a fist.

A hammer as large as a watermelon was exceedingly rare, appearing almost exclusively in tales and legends, especially paired short hammers—even if a warrior had the strength to wield them, the warhorse might not withstand the strain.

Before him stood this purple-gold

The Soul-Devouring Art does not turn a person directly into a puppet—and this very point is what makes the Soul-Devouring Art so ingenious.

As they advanced, a burst of intense gunfire erupted ahead in the suburbs; Sun Yifeng glanced at the top-left corner and calculated: including himself, only four remained alive.

She didn’t know which way to turn her face, nor whom to direct her actions toward—but when she heard, “So beautiful—you’ve just captured tomorrow’s front-page news,” the instinct ingrained in her bones led her straight to the camera.

The bed was even more absurd: a large circular bed, surrounded by pale blue gauze curtains. After circling it, Shi Yun discovered that behind the bed lay an entirely different scene—a full wall of murals depicting exotic flowers and rare herbs.

He saw only a flying dagger, three inches and seven fen long, shooting forth like lightning, transforming into a streak of white light.

“Hmph. Since you’ve discovered the secret, there’s no way I’ll let you live!” After the secret was exposed, Qing Ling immediately decided to kill him; a faint, almost imperceptible aura coalesced around her fist.

If Jiang Huo showed any intention of marrying into Sony, everyone would believe that Howard Stringer, CEO of Sony Group and head of Sony Entertainment, would personally oversee the acquisition.

Peng Jun first checked the call logs and found that Tie Dan hadn’t made a single call all day, then checked his text messages.

Yes—it was the aether particle. This mysterious sensation filled Qin Yu with a sense of delight, as if he’d found a long-sought treasure.

“I’ll think about it.” Zhan Mingyan deliberately toyed with him—after all, he’d just scared her half to death.

Seeing only this scene, one would assume the cultivators of Flying Dragon Valley were heartless and cruel—but Lie Feng, from the stories told by Xuan Yan, knew the valley’s cultivators were merely indifferent to beasts and birds; they still cherished their families deeply, though their devotion to the Dao might be excessive.

Hearing her say this, I raised an eyebrow and ceased bothering to entertain her further, sitting down on the sofa opposite her, watching her.

Yet because he had earlier intended to yield, it was as if he had lost heart before the battle even began—his momentum had already faltered; now, trying to catch up would be exceedingly difficult.

In the dim light, Zhang Minglang’s gaze was clear, like a lake so transparent its bottom could be seen. Suddenly, I leaned forward and pressed a faint, almost imperceptible kiss upon his cheek.

The True Xuan Pills are divided into three grades: upper, middle, and lower. The upper grade is for Xuan-cultivators only; the middle grade is for Zhen-cultivators; Yuan Chengtian used a lower-grade True Xuan Pill.

Zhang Minglang glanced at me, said nothing, and simply handed me the phone, gazing at me with a pitiful look.

“Hanhan, has he ever told you how your father died?” Yang Xuerou suddenly asked.

Seeing me enter, he smiled slightly, then waved at me. I walked over to the seat by the window where he sat.

Afterwards, she calmly retrieved the pre-prepared maternity bag, and Leng Mochen helped Li Si put on her outdoor clothes.

They had kept watch for several days; everyone was exhausted. The Emperor Zhi Zhi rose and gently urged Empress Dowager Pan Zhi to rest. Pan Zhi obediently stood and exited through the side door toward the rear palace, where a dedicated rest chamber had been prepared—no one could keep vigil for thirty-six days; the monastery had long since arranged for this.