Chapter 60: The Martial Arts Association Assembly

The man in the black mask did not finish his sentence, but the meaning was unmistakable: join if you want to live, refuse and you are doomed.

“Yes, the poetry appreciation gathering was held early this year. This poem was written by a junior at our school—her, Lin Weiwei!” Han Daoxian pointed at Lin Weiwei as he spoke.

However, Wang Chen quickly realized his mistake. He had been interpreting the hall according to his own perspective. Who said that the central hub of a faction in the Heroes and Might world must have a sci-fi control panel?

“Let’s do it in Nanhua City. Make sure you arrive by tomorrow. I worry that if we wait, more complications will arise at night,” Wu Yi decided after some thought. Meeting in person would be more reassuring.

Especially now that the demon lord Andariel had grasped the situation. Not only did she launch a frenzied assault, trying to force back or eliminate the likes of the Sacred Flame, she also attacked the Iron Stone Demon entangling her with great force, intent on eradicating this troublesome foe.

It would be best to wait until Zhang Zhijie failed. The emperor would surely be displeased then, giving him the perfect chance for a fatal blow. At that point, Zhang Zhijie would lose the emperor’s trust, and the likes of Gu Dayong and Zhang Yong couldn’t possibly stand against him. They would have to yield or be completely ousted.

Linglong raised her head to look at the “formula” in Old Hu’s hand, a strange light flickering in her eyes.

No one knew about Li Dongsheng’s special ability, not even himself. Perhaps the shock of Linglong’s disappearance had awakened this latent talent within him.

Now, for instance, outside the dilapidated forester’s hut, several zombies, their uniforms barely recognizable, wandered at the doorway.

“You… please don’t misunderstand.” At this moment, Zhou Manrou didn’t even know in what capacity she was speaking with Yun Cheng—the gap between her memories and reality was simply too vast.

Wang Bing, the good-for-nothing, had dabbled in every trick except the sacred painting skill. However, other members of the Wang family were different. Many of them, though they could not command spirits, had mastered sacred painting.

A cold, crimson light surged in Gu Yanzhi’s eyes. Everything before her death played back in her mind. No matter the cost, she would never let Huo Lingfei and Qin Feifei go.

The Xuanhu Tank: the core main battle tank developed by the Martial Blade Dynasty after absorbing modern knowledge from another world.

He hadn’t dared tell Gu Xiaoxiao about this, afraid the impulsive girl would only make things worse.

The head escort, sitting on horseback beside the carriage, was momentarily stunned by the words, then turned his hawk-like gaze to the plump merchant beside him.

“Really?” Mo Rou’s tired, red-rimmed eyes suddenly shone with astonishing brilliance, the gloom replaced by joy.

Seeing the cold air unable to pass the wall of light, Nie Yingrong lifted her right hand. Frost swirled around her fingers, forming a blade. With a single slash, the ice blade cleaved the wall of light in two. Behind it, Fang Qinghua leaped to the right, narrowly avoiding the blade that pierced through.

Lord Qiu’s expression turned to shock and rage as he stared at Ning Chenyang in disbelief. How dare she kill the guard right in front of him?

Fubao quietly explained things to Baole. The only chrysanthemums cultivated on campus belonged to the Warrior Academy’s Heartless Nun. She had even tried to recruit their senior to the Warrior Division, finding a noble patron, but their senior was too devoted to his master, who wouldn’t let him go, and so the matter was dropped.

White Wolf gazed in confusion at the suddenly angry youth before him, unable to understand a word he said.

In a modest room in the eastern wing, a youth’s face lit up with joy. At last, after Ye Cangtian’s tireless search, he had found a basic divine rune.

But Old Master Jiang was unaware that, regardless of the Jiang family’s reaction, everything would proceed according to Ji Rongyu’s script.

To put it plainly, he liked her very much. That affection, tempered in the apocalypse, had sublimated into love—love that surpassed self-love, that made him forget himself and even abandon his former pride and concerns, wishing to merge every part of her into his very bones.

The two had not met that way in their previous lives. This time, because Li Feifan’s experience had changed, the circumstances of their meeting were different, but the essence remained unchanged.

A faint, refreshing fragrance drifted from her, filling Ji Yan’s nose. He closed his eyes with a hint of indifference, saying nothing more.

After turning around, Ye Xinyan changed her shoes slowly, her mind filled with memories of last night’s long kiss with Chen Xuan, and that innocent moment when Chen Xuan had stolen her first kiss years ago.

The courtyard was remarkably clean and bright. Though winter was near, flowers of every hue were still in bloom—a riot of colors, truly a beautiful sight.

“Speculative funds are essentially a bet—just a wager on who will win,” Wang Nuo realized with a sudden clarity.

Seeing Chen Xuan clutching his chest, sweat streaming down his forehead in large drops, Ning Xinyue’s heart was in turmoil. Without a second thought, she rushed between Ye Ergou and Chen Xuan, shielding him behind her.

Murong Chui was startled back to reality. His courtyard afforded a wide view; apart from the central snow maple and a few sparse bamboos, there was nowhere to hide.

Seeing Yang Ruoli’s odd expression, her mother asked, “Who was on the phone? Why do you both look so different?” Yang Ruoli replied, “It’s nothing,” then lowered her head to eat, picking up food for Yang Ziming.

“Madam, please don’t get so agitated. If you continue like this, it will really affect our treatment. Please step outside. We will take good care of the patient,” the doctor said, his voice tinged with displeasure.

After marrying Huang Qian, Liu Kui naturally took over the Chaofo Gang, with Orange Keaonoton’s strong support. Now, the underworld in Cambodia was running smoothly and efficiently.

He hurled the empty wine jar to the ground, smashing it against the rocks, then opened another and poured it straight down his throat.