Chapter 53: Show Mercy
The girl named Oriole froze, standing rigidly in place, not moving an inch. The old man’s brows knitted together as he spat a curse, calling her a useless thing. The sharp spear in his hand thrust toward my face; I shifted aside, snatched up a teapot, and hurled it at him. The teapot was filled with scalding water that flew through the air, scattering like a shower of blossoms. Father and daughter dodged sideways, brandishing their weapons as they charged at me.
At first glance, the scene was nothing short of tragic—the bombed highway was scorched black, leaving the road a charred wasteland.
“You know, people are full of contradictions. At home, I didn’t think much about the kids, but the moment the plane took off, I already missed them.” After all these years, it was still the same contradiction.
Su Xuerou merely knelt on the ground, silent, unconcerned by the two swords held at her throat.
“It’s all right, as long as His Highness the Sixth Prince is unharmed.” Ding Jiuxi forced down the nausea in her chest and managed a strained smile at Mo Ran.
Usually it was fine, but during cultivation or in the midst of battle, even the slightest disturbance could spell disaster.
Mo Linghuan could no longer bear the pain and cried out. At the same moment, everyone living in the dormitory heard her scream; every body flinched, and all called her name in unison.
The sky was oppressively gray, the rain falling on and off. Mud covered the streets. People hurried by, splashing up arcs of dirty water.
“Sister, you flatter me. How could I ever compare to you?” Liu Mingyue made no effort to hide her feelings and spoke frankly.
Just as Ling Fei reached for the doorknob, her hand paused in mid-air. Her instincts told her someone was inside, and she turned her gaze to the door behind her.
Hearing voices, Lin Chuxia stepped out from the inner room. Today she wore a blue dress, her hair simply braided, lending her a delicate charm.
Games are always evolving, not just in their mechanics but also their players. A few days away and the faces have all changed; no matter how renowned she once was, she’s long since become outdated.
Wang Zhiwei was overjoyed, looking at Zhao Tianming with gratitude. After getting the account details, he immediately transferred two hundred thousand yuan to him! He even handed Zhao Tianming a business card, hoping to stay in touch.
Zeng Yeming immediately grew nervous, his expression shifting. He hurried over to massage Lin Cha’s shoulders with a sycophantic smile.
Every corridor was lined with exquisite suits of knight’s armor and priceless crystal-inlaid picture frames. Inside each room lay luxurious beast-skin rugs, antiques vibrant despite their age, and grand crystal chandeliers—everywhere exuding opulence.
The spoils were divided as agreed: Meng Huo took the golden spirit serpent’s core and a divine egg; the rest belonged to Chu He.
The program crew could only rub their foreheads in exasperation. Assistant Ye was cheating again: not only had he arranged two lavish meals for all the guests, but he had also solved the accommodation issue for the night with ease.
Because I’d already visited the coffee bar two or three times that day, after work I went again—but this time, it really was just to sit and relax.
Chu He slowly withdrew his fist, his gaze as sharp as a blade as he swept it across the faces of the Mingwu Academy group.
On the virtual screen, the silhouettes of all 125 guests finally appeared, while side screens for monitoring bullet comments and real-time public opinion on the Star Network lit up.
The castle to the left and all its surrounding annexes blazed with light, a cacophony of deafening sounds erupting from within.
Even the Soul-Refining Illusion Technique he practiced detected no fluctuation of soul force; there was no space here like the ancient village’s Seven Saint Pillars, which could hold a million undead souls. Thus, there should be no remnants of the ancient heavenly palace here.
The two wiped cold sweat from their brows, feigning calm. They hoped the rules of the punishment hall would force Yin Feng to yield—after all, in their eyes, he was only a disciple at the late fourth stage of Foundation Establishment, hardly qualified to leave.