Chapter 40

Curiously surveying the surroundings, Han Bing somehow produced a wristband from nowhere. With a press, it was as if her body underwent molecular differentiation—all the dirt and dust clinging to her was broken down in the blink of an eye.

“Let’s not bother having you, the careless one, handle laundry and cooking.” As if suddenly recalling something, Huang Quan added this remark, causing Zheng Yi’s expression to stiffen and his mood to instantly drop.

Of course, those who still pledged loyalty to Prussia and Berlin, attempting to resist Grand Duke Desai, met increasingly tragic ends.

Yes, Elrica’s ellipsis wasn’t due to an abundance of descriptions, but because after uttering “You are a,” she paused for about a second before finishing with “person,” making her meaning clear.

“What else do you have to say?” Wang Xiaoquan’s face darkened immediately. Who had the audacity to hear his name and still act so arrogantly?

Take, for example, the Guardian of Mist—representing something from nothing and nothing from something—confusing enemies, endlessly conjuring illusions, so adversaries could never grasp anything tangible.

“However, I sensed the descent of divine power in Andrews. I wonder what those gods are plotting.” Without so much as a glance at Mespharo, Basaros grinned slyly and spoke to Lucifer.

Yet, after pressing the button, the system issued an error warning, and the doors on either side of the passage remained motionless.

When Lu Weiguo spent over half a billion to bring back five thousand tons of wrapping red from Italy as if it were a treasure, Bao Feiyang nearly laughed himself sick. Once his newly developed wrapping red hit the market, Lu Weiguo’s stock would plummet in value; if it could fetch even a hundred million then, it would be a stroke of luck.

Lily Ruka, touched by Lei Yu, flushed crimson and involuntarily let out a gentle “Nani.”

“Hey! Joan, let’s team up!” At that moment, as Chen Joan was lost in thought, Zhao Liying, brimming with excitement, scampered across the muddy shoreline to her side.

Thus, when Ichigo Kurosaki and Ryuu Keizawa appeared in the Soul Society, it was shrouded in Ichigo Kurosaki’s night, just as the living world was.

The rapid-fire pistol training field was outdoors, beside the grandstand, where a massive LED screen stood tall.

Even with Thunder Flash and elemental transformation in hand, Han Fei was not confident of escaping safely; his instincts told him so.

“Not bad, not bad, worthy of the Holy Light Court’s stronghold!” Upon entering the Holy Light City, Haochen sensed the situation within the city.

The Twelve Main Gods’ gazes grew solemn, uncertain of what was happening. They wished to resist, but the majestic imperial might descended, pressing directly upon their chests. They knew that should they defy, Yutian would kill them.

“Do you know why I called you here this time?” Nangong Nayue eyed Lei Yu, whose demeanor was careless and unruly, her tone tinged with disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” Lei Yu hadn’t noticed the secret had been uncovered and asked, puzzled.

To elaborate, the so-called Amitabha is simply Buddha. Thus, calling it the Buddhist Sect is fitting, though the mingling of demonic and Buddhist elements makes it somewhat awkward.

He was a young man garbed in azure attire, brows sharp as swords, his aura as fierce as blades, exuding an intimidating presence that made him impossible to approach.

Watching Ning Xiu and Ning Mo depart, Yi Qing dared not voice his anger. Fear crept in; had they brought disaster upon themselves?

A monk may escape, but the temple remains; as long as she returned to the Tan family with her son, she would surely be caught.

Everyone greeted each other, boasting about their extravagant lives over the past eleven days—someone claimed to have visited Thailand, another basked in Bali’s sun. To prove they weren’t lying, they all brandished their phones, showing photos as evidence.

It turned out they had placed a bet minutes ago on Zhang Tianyi’s arrival. The outcome was clear: Ji Xiangyu still won.

Witnessing the previous scene, Chu Shaotian’s pupils contracted; he hadn’t expected Su Zheng to shatter his spiritual sword aura. Yet Su Zheng’s finger was already inches away, leaving no time to react.

Hang Tianqi gritted his teeth. “Fine, seems you insist on opposing me today. Bringing so many disciples—do you mean to start a fight?” Even before he finished speaking, Xiang Yang, Hu Liu Shen, and Hang Zhuang had stepped forward to face Zhang Hua. The other disciples in the hall also drew their weapons, and for a moment, the atmosphere was fraught with tension.

Taking advantage of the moment when Tong Gang was shaken off, Zhong Tong swept his Fang Tian halberd sideways, catching Bai Qing’s spear. He pressed down, stepped forward, and stomped on Bai Qing’s spear before launching a kick.

As they neared Hei Pi, Lu Yi furtively fingered the white card in her pocket, silently reciting the registration details, lest she embarrass herself in front of the police by forgetting her name, place of origin, or address.

Though the beast-shaped lightning remained, its power was only slightly greater than the eighth strike.

Thanks to his past life experience, Shen Yuan’s brief speech was highly persuasive; he painted a grand, seemingly attainable vision, one that could inspire a lifetime of struggle—even generations.

Once, he believed that love, even with parting, could be left to fate. Yet when the moment of departure truly came, the ache in his heart was impossible to suppress.

With a sigh, Qi Yueran’s rigid body seemed to relax. Since her father’s incident, only a few months had passed, yet the ordeal felt as long as a lifetime. She had escaped death several times, endured separation and reunion. The world seemed a fleeting panorama, and to say she wasn’t exhausted would be a lie.

Volcanic eruption sent a wave of lava crashing onto the hillside. As it receded, not only did molten rock remain, but also some crystalline stones.

We asked as we did because we knew this ghost would not harm us, granting us a certain recklessness. Indeed, the ghost responded quite ordinarily, answering our questions without fuss.

With that, she truly took out her handkerchief to wipe her tears, which flowed freely as if tears were inexhaustible—she seemed determined to have a good cry.