Chapter 73: Liu Yan's Dinner Gathering

During this process, the pilot of Sirius would not simply allow the airship to be analyzed indefinitely. He began to maneuver the vessel with a series of high-difficulty actions, making it nearly impossible for Rose to maintain her balance, and eventually flung her off. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he fired a shot that struck Rose directly.

“That’s enough talk. Let’s go!” Du Moyan reached out, grabbed Duka Ao, and pulled him into the other-dimensional space. Yet, as soon as they stepped inside, they saw Raina brandishing a greatsword, bringing it down towards them.

Within the villa complex, the three-tiered ceremonial spaces of “gate, garden gate, and homeward lane,” the four-season themed gardens and eight auspiciously named alleyways, there was none of the ostentatious embellishment of winding corridors and soaring eaves, nor any boisterous clamor. Instead, it was all quiet, natural, and composed, nourishing all things in silence.

“I’m at karaoke, celebrating with my team.” Xia Xixi turned her head and saw Ye Yiqing beside her, gazing at her with a deep, inscrutable look. Her voice faltered instantly—what was the meaning behind Ye Yiqing’s eyes? Complex and profound.

Wu Yingbo had not gone anywhere since arriving here—how could he possibly have stolen anything? Yang Qingwei’s face darkened in anger, realizing that it was Shengzi Yuji targeting her, and she hadn’t expected him to vent his displeasure on Wu Yingbo.

While sorting through these materials, Lin Tian paid particular attention to a few crystals emanating an icy aura.

“Looking for a certain plant in Black Mountain? No wonder! Otherwise, who would come to this desolate place? Everyone comes for the abundant treasures hidden in Black Mountain.” Lin Xiwu took a slow sip.

At this moment, Long Yi could possess others at will; apart from occasionally coming out to frolic with Erlang and the two magical beasts, he rarely stayed in the aquarium.

Lin Xuanxin saw that the sect leader’s junior sister had spoken, so she directly sent the interstellar coordinates of Azure Star to Wu Yingbo. Long Yuyan and Feng Qingwu both knelt, bowed to Lin Xuanxin, then rose and prepared to leave with Wu Yingbo.

Xia Xixi stroked Jingxing’s ear, and a sudden wave of sadness welled up inside her. If she had always stayed by Jingxing’s side, perhaps he wouldn’t be so anxious and insecure now.

After Bai Yu finished speaking, Hei Yu still did not move. His brow was furrowed, his gaze fixed intently on the Black Tortoise nestled in Su Quyan’s arms, as if deep in thought, a hint of confusion appearing between his brows.

From the east came a young man carrying a sword of black and white. His hair was thick and dark, his eyes shone like lightning, and his sword radiated both yin and yang energy, as though capable of severing time and space itself.

Hua Huayue had once spoken plainly: within the Heavenly Sword Sect, whoever dared lay a finger on Fang Yi would answer to her—even Yang Chengji was no exception. In the sect, Hua Huayue’s word was law; she never made empty threats.

“I have a foundation in Liang Prefecture,” Yun Ting spoke up. He was not one to merely accept investment from others; more often than not, he approached things as a partnership, including now.

Fang Yi naturally noticed this. In truth, he bore little real animosity toward Zhou Haotian and Wang Ting. Their previous encounter at the Dragon Group headquarters had only led to a verbal spat, and Fang Yi was not so narrow-minded as to wish anyone dead.

Zhu Tianpeng flew up to the incense cedar tree, where he saw Chan Master Wuchao sitting cross-legged in a massive bird’s nest, tapping a wooden fish in his hands.

In the next instant, a suffocating aura surged through the spatial passage. Amid this oppressive energy, a tall and upright figure charged forth, wielding a radiant dragon spear.

The temperature here was abnormally high; though nothing should have grown on this scorched earth, the ground was covered with fiery-red grass that emitted a crimson glow.

Yet, when the two disciples used earth escape to reach the city gate, they were suddenly blasted out from underground, two jets of blood spraying high into the air as they died instantly.

Xiang Hao stared ahead and saw, by the Queen Mother’s Pool, a withered peach tree—large and ancient, its age impossible to fathom.

The city authorities had already stated their hope that more Good Tea Shelters could be opened, as these establishments were particularly suitable for the elderly, who could be trusted and taken out without worry.

Every time he recalled that scene, he felt as though the one screaming in agony was himself. That trusted aide, hands trembling, hid the silver he had found on Xu Cheng’an.

Old Geng, after hearing Chen Guohua’s words, felt as if he had swallowed a live fly, its wings fluttering in his stomach, making him nauseated and disgusted. He slammed the table with a loud bang, making the teacups jump as if they, too, wanted to express their displeasure.

Who could have predicted that Sister Tong, who once slept through class with them, would one day rise to first place through sheer effort, leaving them far behind.

“Spare them?” Ma Qu walked slowly to Yu Qing, picking up the bloodstained dagger from the ground.

“Brother Wang Qi, take this, you’ve worked hard this month,” Liu Heng spoke up nearby.

She deliberately lowered her tone and fixed her gaze on Gu Qingzhao, intending to exert pressure.

But that stern demeanor lasted only a moment; when she looked up again, she was once more that elegant, composed youth.

He had fulfilled his promise to himself—both his opponents had fallen beneath his iron fist.

“Don’t say you’re going— even if Chen Yang went, it would make no difference!” Fang Dahai swept his gaze over the surrounding neighbors, then looked at Xi Zi’s mother.

As the strength of the Alliance’s forces was suppressed, they fell back step by step. In the front lines, only twenty or thirty people remained fighting, standing shoulder to shoulder to form a defensive wall, fending off the attacks of the demon horde.

“This is precisely the greatness of this piece. The shepherd boy is depicted playing the flute—does he hold a flute, or not? If the flute had been sculpted in, wouldn’t that be gilding the lily?” The crowd burst into laughter; had the flute been included, it would have been a superfluous detail.

The monster stood hundreds of meters tall, its body quivering with every step, repulsively obese. In its hand was a mace fashioned from the bone of another creature, the club still slick with fresh blood—a sight to chill the soul.