Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Jin Family Fist Technique

As expected, those without a designer’s background simply lack their obsessive attention to detail; the simpler, the better, and they hardly consider the issue of decorating themselves. Yanxuan even suspected that Gu Ming chose this house precisely for the convenience of moving in with nothing but a suitcase, rather than being like them—always buying unfinished homes, designing personally, supervising the renovation, and sometimes even doing the work themselves. The next day, the Jin family’s car arrived again.

This time, it wasn’t Master Jin’s driver, but the young girl Jin...

“Dad, there are two soldiers at the entrance of the village handling this year’s conscription,” Wang Fengqi said, panting. Sitting in the courtyard, rolling a cigarette, was his father.

At the same moment, Shi Yitao let out a shrill scream and fell into the black lake, vanishing without a trace.

As soon as these people saw Yao Muchen approaching, they immediately stood up and cupped their fists in salute, their faces and voices filled with respect.

What surprised him even more was that his lips felt as though nibbled by some sort of animal—though he relished that subtle sweetness that seeped into his heart, it was a strange and indescribable sensation.

In truth, cultivation was not as complicated as people imagined. Those seen in television and films only made it sound mysterious because they didn’t understand it at all, exaggerating its difficulty as if it involved soaring to the heavens and delving into the earth.

After quite some time, the couple simply sat there, frozen, as if they had turned into two statues, quietly facing each other.

Afa examined the young woman before him carefully. This was his first time meeting his sister-in-law; he’d been in school the day his cousin married and had missed the wedding, so he hadn’t seen the bride until now.

“Ju Shishen, I told you to get lost—why are you still here? You dare block my path with your people—do the Ju family…” Just as Ju Shishen found himself in a dilemma, a gentle voice broke the silence.

“This is Lord Shura General’s command token. You’d better take a good look.” Wolf Hongxiang sensed the hostility directed at him, but he had no time to waste here; he raised the command token from Lord Shura high above his head.

“Class Three, Grade Two, is it? Very well. You have P.E. this afternoon, don’t you?” Teacher Wang sneered.

As I stepped into the bamboo grove, a bone-chilling, icy aura swept over me. I gathered yang energy throughout my body to ward off the cold, took a yang talisman from my backpack and stuck it to my chest, then continued following the trail of dark energy.

“Grandma, someone over there is selling candied chestnuts. Why don’t we buy some? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have something warm to eat right now?” Qiao Yuyan said longingly.

Could a human body truly withstand a mysterious weapon? Even if this was only a mid-grade yellow-level weapon, it should slice through stone like mud!

If Pei Feng were truly to walk this path, he wouldn’t believe it. He simply disliked Su Rou and wanted to use such skills to bully her a little.

Since the film could be edited by October, it could be released by the end of the year—too long a delay would hamper promotion, but too short a schedule risked unforeseen complications. Changing the release date would be disastrous for the film.

He hadn’t expected Zhou Xiao Qiu, known for her gentle temperament, to be so ruthless and cutting when she scolded someone.

Holding slightly more money than most, they could eat their fill, stay warm, and have a secure place to live. A stable job—this was true peace and happiness.

Xing’er was boiling water and washing vegetables nearby. Li Xin and Axiu didn’t shy away from mentioning money in front of her, which made her feel a gentle warmth inside.

Madam Lin, the imperial censor’s wife, seeing the old lady unmoved, quickly turned to signal Min’er with her eyes.

Cheng Yang lightly extended his hand, and the Slaughter Armor immediately descended from the sky, dividing into segments for shoulders, waist, and back, each piece settling onto him. Astonishingly, the moment the entire suit was donned, a flash of blood-red light burst forth, and the armor vanished from sight.

Zhao Yan pondered briefly and made up his mind: as long as he could see Shanke and know his location, he was certain he could defeat him.