Chapter 78

She still remembered the scene from that night. She had just returned to her lodging when Qi Murong suddenly burst in, appearing in her spiritual form.

A massive cloud of sulfurous smoke gathered and took shape at the very pinnacle of the Black Tower of Barad-dûr, forming a huge, circular mist between the two sharp, blade-like decorations that stretched upwards from the outer edges of the tower.

Ordinary avatars lacked independent will; they obeyed Ji Yun’s commands entirely, without initiative. Only now, with Ji Yun bestowing consciousness upon this avatar, could it better confront the trials ahead.

Xu Changshou was indeed a master of social interaction—in fact, he was the most formidable salesman of the twenty-first century. With his silver tongue, he could talk the living to death, and the dead back to life.

Only then did Lü Qiancheng understand. No wonder Snow Leopard was so anxious about headquarters—his beloved actually worked there. Yet, according to the intelligence Tiger’s group had sent from the destroyed headquarters, the situation was grim. Whether his loved one had survived was a question shrouded in uncertainty.

“But don’t get too happy yet—I haven’t finished speaking,” Xu Xiuxiu spoke languidly from behind her aunt and cousin.

Yang Bo was truly worthy of his reputation as the brightest mind on the Vast Continent. Although Ji Yun had yet to learn what had happened to him, he was full of admiration: this blank space in Yang Bo’s memory was something Yang Bo himself had chosen to hide.

At noon, Jerk Chun called Luo Qianfan—using the number he used for undercover work, since his usual phone had been switched off for a long time.

No one knew what means Qiao Xianyun had employed, but whatever he wished to spread soon circulated through the entire Peking University School of Medicine.

Run’ger was the son of Han Pengcheng and Sun Qian, only seventeen months old. Were not children of such age all exceedingly lively?

The old locksmith’s tools for making keys were right in front of him—a large block of iron. It was not solid; inside, it was like a machine, with gaps and individual parts.

After experimenting several times, Ye Chen discovered that the older the antique, the more profound its aura. Of course, at least seventy percent were counterfeits, with only a few genuine pieces tucked away in inconspicuous places.

Liu Yi had just awoken and was full of questions. Why had he been completely unaware moments before? Why was he now climbing up from the ground?

Any shield-armored knight could reduce a tank to paper in its presence—none but the invincible could withstand its might.

“No matter what, they’re our elders. As the younger generation, all we can do is show filial respect,” Fourth Master finally said after a long pause.

I reconsidered. At present, Elder Luo was isolated and missing an arm. Even if he knew, he likely wouldn’t confront us head-on. Were it me, I’d first secure the home, set up several large formations, protect the family pond, and then lure myself out and seize me off guard.

If they fled out of cowardice, let alone the consequences they would face, what of the sacrifice of Bao Ziwei and his third company—so many lives lost for nothing?

The collapsed watchtower fell precisely where they had just been lying. The concrete slabs cracked, leaving a huge pit. Steel pipes as thick as an adult’s arm twisted and snapped. Two soldiers, unable to escape, were crushed beneath, only their lower bodies visible; their upper halves reduced to pulp, blood pooling everywhere.

Li Changge, wielding “Karma,” shattered the soul of Silver City’s lord. With a single stroke of his sword, the soul of the greatest under heaven was torn to shreds. Such lethal power could well be called second only to the greatest in the world.

“You police, come climb the blood-soaked mound—I’ll be waiting in the blood-red baseball player’s box for your arrival,” Qian Yu tried to translate.

“Not long after I left, I discovered it,” Huangfu Lan said, bowing her head, gently stroking her stomach, a mother’s tenderness flickering in her gaze.

Xuan Potian, struck by Jiang Tao’s Fire Separation Technique, was thankfully resilient and avoided serious injury. He stared at Jiang Tao’s eyes—less like a monster’s, and more like Jiang Tao’s own.

The Golden-horned Tiger King was a demon cultivator nearly at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage, just half a step from the late stage. With Long Wu’s current cultivation, defeating it without resorting to his hidden trump card was clearly impossible.

The door closed behind her. Lan Duoduo crouched in dejection. Not only had yesterday’s trip been futile, but Luo Yun had also let Zhao Nanyan learn of the secret passage, pulling a fast one on her.

At that moment, Li Han and the others had yet to arrive. The atmosphere was still serene. Overhead, a bird, as if sensing danger, flapped and took flight.

“A grandmaster alchemist?” Mu Yu’s handsome face twitched, his brief joy subsiding into a mocking, cold smile.

“Master, I’ll remember your words and train diligently,” Feng Shaoming replied at once.

I noticed her gaze. Since we entered, her eyes lingered on me for a moment, then slowly shifted to Nan Chengyao—and lingered there.

“We are of the same kind. Why must we be so opposed, like water and fire?” Long Wu asked Long Xiao.

A screen flooded with expletives was a uniquely painful experience. Qu Xiangtian, noticing something odd about Ye Zhiyu’s side, furrowed his brow and came over, only to find that aside from the wall of “damn”s, there was nothing else.

After absorbing and refining an advanced flame, the Broken Sand Cauldron could even upgrade itself—a magical artifact capable of growth.

As they spoke, the Huaiyang Army had already broken through to the entrance of Bangyuan Cave. In an instant, the dark mass of Song soldiers reached the cave mouth, and before they could even shout a command, a powder bomb was hurled inside.

What puzzled me was that the shadow asuras outside were all clothed, yet these three supreme shadow asuras inside were completely naked.

No sooner had I finished speaking than my phone rang. It was a strange landline, a call from Beijing. I answered.

“Hell if I ever learned this stuff—just make do,” I answered helplessly, wiping the sweat from my brow, then took out a pack of cigarettes, leaning against the door and lighting one with a click.

With her goal achieved, Xixi returned to the kitchen to busy herself. Wang Fatty and I continued watching the football match. We were engrossed when the doorbell rang.