Volume One, Chapter 24: The Crimson Purge, Leaving the Demon Capital.
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A dust-covered Jinbei van sat by the roadside. Two bedraggled wretches, bound hand and foot and gagged with scraps of cloth found God knows where, stared in terror at the heavily armed men standing before them.
Walking through the bustling office hall, Director He pressed several buttons on his desk. A wall of screens rose slowly from the floor, coming to a halt before He and Zhao.
Looking at his expectant expression, I could not bring myself to refuse, so I simply nodded.
This was a battle of patience, and clearly, Deep Blue had the upper hand. The opponent's commander could not wait for the Berserker to strike; unable to endure any longer, he played his trump card too early. It was only a fraction of a second ahead of Deep Blue—perhaps the difference of a single sentence—but the outcome was irrevocably changed.
When Du Xiaoyu arrived in his lane, Shao Jun arrived as well. He clearly treated the opposing mid-laner as a novice, playing with extreme aggression from the moment he reached the lane.
Chu Zifeng saw that the Peacock King’s source techniques were clearly superior to those of Ding Xin. Ding Xin’s clones stood no chance against the Peacock King’s tornadoes; they were destined to be annihilated, so there was no need to worry for the Peacock King.
Yet, though she thought it, she could not bring herself to act on it. At her core, Ying Lili was an upright person; such underhanded tactics were simply beyond her.
After unsealing, the breastplate gained 25 points of defense—a godsend for a fragile character like me. The dagger’s maximum attack power increased by 20, undeniably making my strikes far more explosive.
Upon hearing this, everyone sat down obediently, eyes fixed on Dugu Caier, waiting for her story.
Looking at Hogarfin, who lay unconscious on the ground, twitching occasionally—his arms and head beaten so badly by Zhang Zhong that they were barely recognizable—the aquatic nobles were secretly horrified.
Rouge Rice originates from ancient Rouge Paddy. It is not a single variety but encompasses several types, including the Kangxi Rouge Rice and the Imperial Palace Rouge Rice. In 1962, specimens of Rouge Paddy were displayed at the National Agricultural Exhibition Center, earning widespread fame.
The dragons that had been attacked, discovering they were not severely injured—that the assault had merely caused them unbearable pain—began to persuade those who had finally overcome their psychological trauma.
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Once the defensive structure was complete, Luo Lei immediately issued orders to all the soldiers and the four oceanic races behind him.
“What should we do then? If we refuse, isn’t it a death sentence anyway?” Ren Hong asked.
“It seems the beast bloodlines these fellows possess are those adept at speed and tearing,” Luo Zixiu thought, no longer daring to remain complacent. His own defense was already monstrous, comparable even to a Earth Rock Turtle, yet he still bore tooth marks from the Swamp Mongooses, a testament to the sharpness of their fangs.
Even if her way of thinking, in Lin Xia’s perception, actually strangled more possibilities and closed off more choices.
This song, which fit the trendy tastes of the youth, was truly captivating. In less than ten minutes, the follower count had already surpassed the 50,000 mark—and that was just by voice alone, without showing a face.
They could attack from all directions, and their strikes were unpredictable, leaving their foes completely bewildered. After all, the four oceanic races could swim freely in the water, just like fish.
Perhaps it was too much of a coincidence; the moment the bug was dropped into the vegetable basket, Yi Wei’s mother’s phone rang. The person calling was none other than Yi Wei.
With Dongchen Miaozhu taking the lead, everyone followed suit, offering their own gifts. One would naturally not slight a student of Luo Zixiu; who knew if this identity might one day become someone who stood above all others.
Ying Si’s Blood Dragon Halberd swept across, and the last of Marcus’s archers was drained until he was little more than a dried husk.
“What do you all think of this painting?” Tian Yin asked. His majestic voice, carrying a profound sense of penetration, echoed across the entire plaza.
The hissing of pythons and the cries of dragons reverberated. Although the green dragon released by Yefeng was vaguely at a disadvantage, the two were locked in a stalemate, and it would take time to determine a victor.
Perhaps due to Duan Qiu’s arrival, those defending the camp surged with morale, dispatching seven or eight snow wolves in less than two minutes.
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“I am not that bored. What happens to that piece of trash has nothing to do with me. However, if I can return to the sect with your head, the rewards they offer are quite tempting.” The opponent spoke again, flicking his tongue over his lips as he scrutinized Yefeng like a piece of prey.
At that moment, the crow descended toward the statue. Clearly, the deathly bird had seized this exact instant; even if the butterfly had wanted to stop it, it would have been too late. But the butterfly did not try to block it at all. It maintained its speed, elegant and light, as if focusing the spiritual energy of the entire river reach into this single descent.
On Feng Tongyi’s table sat a pot of wine and a plate of sliced beef; by the look of it, she had already finished a large platter herself. Sensing that the girl had something on her mind, he told his eldest brother he was going to check on her.
The reason Duan Qiu hadn’t attacked proactively earlier was because the opponent was powerful, and there was a group of elves nearby; a reckless assault could easily lead to casualties.
Yan Luoniang was beyond speech, whether stunned by Chen Jing’s sword skills—which cut through people as if they were vegetables—or terrified by the sight of her senior brother and sister dying before her. A figure flashed, and Chen Jing appeared beside her.
Lin Qingyue swept her gaze around. In the quiet of the night, everything was peaceful and serene, making it all the harder to imagine what was about to unfold.
His pride prevented him from snatching her away while she had someone she loved. He feared that if he entered that city and looked at her a few more times, he would not be able to resist taking her away, regardless of the consequences.
In the Zichen Courtyard, Cheng Xuege, Mu Lianyi, and Zhu Siyun ignored everything, looking as wilted as frost-bitten eggplants, their expressions grave.
“Brother Chu, I… I didn’t…” She didn’t know how to explain it. How could she explain any of this? That she had inexplicably appeared in his garden to peek at his brother bathing, and then voluntarily offered this peerless set of sword techniques?