Dead Drunk

The lightness skill of Jiuhua, unrivaled under heaven, truly lived up to its name. As soon as she leapt, her body felt as if it were floating on air, soaring as though riding the wind. In the blink of an eye, she was atop the tree. Qiongfeng let out a soft exclamation, turned nimbly on the treetop, withdrew her family’s famed folding fan, and, employing the “Pierce” technique, struck swiftly toward the front.

Vice Admiral Chen Shukang was one of the few commanders in the Huajun Navy with real combat experience. Yet, for all his expertise, it was unlikely he could have imagined someone would fire a torpedo at an enemy ship fifteen thousand meters away, in such pitch-black darkness where one could not see their own hand.

Thus, after seeing the two guests enter, he did not act suspiciously. He simply summoned Fu Chun and Fu Yu, instructing the two maids to serve dishes to Old He and Wen Yong.

“Naturally, who in the world possesses the courage of Lord Lai? However, I must say, if I were in Bochun’s position, I would not dare neglect my duty either!” Xue Kui remarked with a touch of irony.

“It might not just be nostalgia. What if it’s a cover-up? Perhaps someone wants to keep this palace scandal from growing. Hmph!” Liang Feng could not help but harbor such dark thoughts.

Seeing a high ground not far off, standing out like an island amid the tide, Romosh hurriedly hoisted Jiang Chong onto his back and rushed toward it. As he ran, the water at his feet continued to rise. Without pause to consider, Romosh grabbed a skilled Jinyiwei at random and flung him into the lake, then stepped hard upon the man’s back, leaping a full ten feet forward.

The scholar in green, Zhiguan, and the others were all stunned, even Fang Zijing’s gaze grew solemn. The entire group exchanged glances, falling into a heavy silence.

Before the words had faded, Lu Nan’s hand was struck with a violent force, and the Type 92 semi-automatic pistol clattered to the ground. Alongside it fell a willow-leaf throwing knife, thin as paper and three inches long.

Heavens! Wasn’t Bu Jingyun already so weakened he could barely move? How did he find the strength to block the Divine Mother, force her demonic form to retreat, and stop her from sacrificing further for him? Where did his power come from?

Had this been any other time, he might have chosen to play the good man to the end. But these were extraordinary times, and he could not afford the slightest carelessness.

There had been two times in all—once during the safe period, the other less certain. Gu Er sighed inwardly, hoping it would be nothing, otherwise this would be difficult to resolve.

A ripple stirred in his heart. Huo Shaoheng gave himself a zero for this “training session,” then, resolute and decisive, stretched out his strong arms, swept Gu Nianzhi up from her seat, and set her on his lap. One hand around her waist, the other cupping her nape, he took the lead in their kiss.

Nameless was like a legendary piece of epic equipment in a game, capable of tipping the balance of the whole world.

The household staff had never seen the Zhao matron act so unrestrained before; each stared in wide-eyed astonishment, struggling to suppress their laughter.

“Don’t worry, I have a secret technique. I’ll give you a massage soon, and the medicine will be fully absorbed—not a drop wasted. Besides, this is for your health. So what if it costs hundreds of thousands? Why worry? You already agreed before, didn’t you?” Xu Zhuo seemed to see through her thoughts and explained.

After some deliberation, everyone rather unkindly set their eyes on Old Xing. This fellow had found an exorcism jade amulet at the treasure site—so even if he ran into the same dangers as Ji Wuqing and the others, he’d probably be fine.

As Nangong Li left the restaurant, he ran into a weary Fu Zhong. Startled by Nangong Li’s appearance, Fu Zhong stared blankly for a moment.

No one paid any heed to the words of the Godslayer. The monk added a few more seals to the Heart Mirror, and the clamor from the Godslayer fell silent.

Yet, the smile on her face instantly dispelled the surrounding gloom, bringing light into his vision.

The demon monkey, carrying a foul wind, clashed with thirteen Buddha beads. From the beads burst beams of Buddha’s light, instantly dispersing the dense, bloody miasma.

Zhang Jingchu had once possessed both talent and looks, and her career had been on the rise—even breaking into Hollywood. Unfortunately, her fortunes waned after changing agencies, compounded by rumors of being blacklisted by directors’ wives, and her company’s poor choices. She ultimately fell to playing minor roles in web dramas.

There were no aerial surveys of water resources at the base. All they knew was that the base was above an underground water source, but whether it was liquid or solid was unclear. One way or another, they would have to dig for water eventually.

But all of this was predicated on their working relationship. If real feelings became involved, all sorts of practical problems would arise.

Those feelings—heartbeats, passion, risking everything, vows by the sea, anger, resentment, heartache, blame—all had become so precious.

With a soft rustle, Yawu Zhuo’s body dissolved into a flurry of cherry blossoms.

Wang Xuanyuan could only shake his head and walk away, unsure whether John knew his location.

Nangong Li’s words were already tactful enough. She said, “Don’t do anything,” but the implication was for Lin Ye not to kill anyone here.

Wu Fanping held his seven-colored great blade, tracing its cold, gleaming surface. The iridescent glow never faded; when he touched it, the seven colors flickered around his hand. This was the aura born from the essence of the seven emotions and six desires.

The two of them sped along the riverbank, covering over a hundred yards before stopping. Nangong Ling instructed An Xin to stand atop a large rock. Watching her draw out a protective formation from her storage pouch, he waited until she was prepared, then without a word, flew sixty yards ahead and stopped.

I smiled self-deprecatingly as I gazed at Zhu Chengbi. Hadn’t I told myself not to care who Xigua’s father was? Why, then, did I keep searching for their similarities?

Xuan Yi wanted to give chase at once and bring his men, but the prince had summoned him back.

After traveling thirty kilometers, Chu Yue and Zhai Feibai crossed a mountain ridge. From the summit, they saw a depression below, shrouded in a thin mist that obscured their vision.

Xuan Rou bit her lip, thinking of how Brother Chen had entrusted her with such a difficult task. She couldn’t let herself mess it up.

Yao Luo eyed Gu Qianqian’s speed. If not for her cumbersome attire, she would likely have broken into a run by now.

“Taoist Mo, I confess. I am willing to surrender myself and let the imperial court decide my fate,” cried the county magistrate’s soul.

Yan You spent his spare time studying the ruan lute for a long while. Initially, Zhuang Qingyan’s instrument had only a single broken string. Later, with Yan You’s persistent tinkering, all the strings snapped. Just as he was fretting over it, he heard someone snickering at the door.