Volume 1, Chapter 30: Venturing into the Enemy's Lair to Uncover Secrets

Lin Fan fixed his gaze on the writhing black shadow in the distance; it seemed to possess a life of its own, twisting eerily within the night. A chill shot up from the soles of his feet, and alarm bells rang loudly in his heart.

Men like Hu Tian were often disliked by others, in part due to that sharp tongue of his.

Inside the wooden shed, Yan Yirong had dosed herself with a potency equal to that of Su Mushang. She feared that if she did not drug herself, she would inevitably become the primary suspect, leaving her with no choice but to follow suit.

Early the next morning, Zhao Zhiguo used the vouchers he had obtained by trading fish at the supply and marketing cooperative to buy some sunflower seeds and peanuts, after which he headed to the street office.

Snow fell in heavy flakes, freezing the land for a thousand miles. In the antique, atmospheric courtyard house, the snow lay in thick piles.

When Jiang Nan removed the two mirrors from Xin Yanling’s eyes, he recalled this matter, and his expression turned equally awkward.

Ma Chaoyuan smiled faintly, then flicked his palm. A swarm of black insects flew from his hand, surging forward in a dense cloud before dispersing across the ruins.

Never mind his own personality; even if you took his father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, or his maternal grandfather, any one of them would be a handful.

However, there were many who, to save face and appear prestigious, took out loans to buy expensive cars.

Her body drifted, nearly weightless, swaying from side to side. She could only pray for Ji Mao to remain steady and not let her die here as feed.

At most, they would only be locked up in the detention center for ten days or so, but the purpose of doing this was simply to teach the other party a lesson.

Zhang Yingying remained silent, and for a moment, I felt the atmosphere between us grow awkward—a type of awkwardness where both of us clearly had so much to say to the other, yet neither knew how to begin.

After all, compared to ancient clans, holy lands, imperial dynasties, and great sects passed down through generations, the Source Realm, having always existed in an age of technology, truly lacked a focus on cultivators and had nothing of substance to pass down.

I had slept soundly, but I awoke in a panic from a nightmare, cold sweat beading on my forehead. I had dreamed of Aunt Mei; she had turned her face in the darkness and cast a single glance at me, and that icy, arrogant, and innate aura of nobility that seeped from her very bones was more than I could bear.

But I knew that Ye Rong would never have wanted such a thing to happen. Perhaps she had no other intentions in coming, originally wanting only to speak with me, but upon arriving, she had run into Zhang Yingying and ended up in a quarrel with her.

Yaoguang, Luoshen, Qin Miaoyin, Yao Wuyan, and others had all enjoyed their own glory in their youth, hailed as genius cultivators of their respective eras. They, too, were pondering where exactly things had gone wrong over these years to make them settle for the status quo.

Tong Tian was not lying; his primary objective this time was to initiate the era of national warfare—to truly usher in the era of national warfare.

"Then why have you pursued and tried to kill me so many times?" I lifted my head slightly, looked at the Guardian of the Heavens, and asked.

Human meridians vary from person to person, and the trajectory of internal energy flow naturally differs, leading to significant variations in the quantity and energy levels of that force. Mixing energies of different grades requires skill. I fear this is the very essence of this palm technique.

The man’s large hand slid down her arm, gripping her jade-like hand, and her body leaned into his embrace as if by instinct. She closed her eyes, a smile gracing the corners of her lips.

"Han, what is wrong with you again? Did you not sleep well either?" Lu Xiao asked, looking at Mu Beihan, who sat beside him with an equally grim complexion.

Breaking finesse with brute force was clearly no empty boast. With the great sword weighing hundreds of kilograms, its edge was rendered useless; those enemies perished under sheer force, as if struck head-on by a high-speed train.