Chapter 67: Sword Intent Like the Tides

On the day the Hundred Sword Monument Forest opened, the forbidden stone gate behind the main peak slowly parted, releasing a breath blended from countless wills—a presence like an ancient beast roused from endless slumber, awakening and sweeping forth.

Bai Yue Ning held the special jade talisman, drew a deep breath, and stepped inside.

With that single step, it felt as though she entered another realm. The daylight and drifting clouds of the outside world were instantly sealed away, replaced by an invisible heaviness and tumult.

The air—

Now I am like a nouveau riche, unable to name any brands or grasp the style. This sensation of a country bumpkin entering the city displeases me; I cannot even distinguish between beef and chicken, nor do I have any clue about the origins of the imposing painting on the wall.

Yet, this was not what startled Mo Li most. It was the scepter’s surface, bearing imprints so faint that even divine sense could not detect them. Only a single word was inscribed: God.

This fellow’s reckless courage—taking responsibility alone for his actions—left Xu Yiming at a loss, both amused and exasperated. He hadn’t expected Zhang Ruishi to appear.

“There is indeed something, and the phrase is truly odd,” Ling Qian nodded lightly, his expression grave.

Wang Hu suddenly raised his head, just as Wang Tian and the others stepped down from the arena. Standing opposite him was Wang Fan, a bitter smile lingering on his face.

After speaking, the furious Dao Tuo abruptly cut off their communication, rudely leaving Prince Zaid hanging.

Though the crowd on the outskirts was indignant, lacking Piao Wuzong’s abilities, they were too far away to hear what was being shouted.

“You…” Murong Feiyan was momentarily speechless at Ye Tian’s words. He was right; she had indeed acted rashly.

Seeing this, Wang Tian said nothing further. He glanced at the azure sky, ignored the morning chill on the ground, and simply lay down.

The Ancestor of Yin and Yang cursed under his breath, his face unusually solemn. At last, he abandoned his bravado, tossing his refined iron fan aside.

Linglong took out her phone and snapped a photo of the old picture. Besides Biting, another elder appeared in one of the photographs.

These bits of news made Zhang Xiaozhun wary. He immediately went to the map and pondered. The three German cavalry divisions had vanished; if someone else were commanding, Zhang Xiaozhun wouldn’t be so anxious. But this time, the German forces were under Marshal Mackensen, famed for his swift maneuvers.

Her temples throbbed faintly; she had to remain calm. Though the surface seemed tangled and complex, unraveling the threads, there could only be one truth.

She laughed softly, sipped a bit of red wine, her cheeks tinged with pink. Her eyes shone, making his heart tremble.

Meanwhile, Zihong defended and pondered how to break the formation. In his mind, runes flickered like fleeting shadows, all wolf-force techniques for dismantling arrays.

She could not speak; she wished to leave some beautiful memories for He Junchen, so he would still believe in the goodness left in the world.

Suddenly, she recalled overhearing her brother’s phone call in the garden; he had mentioned once picking up Ji Xinliang.

Within the imperial city, the formations were vast. On the streets, people murmured and debated, all uncertain what had transpired.

Lu Mengfei gritted her teeth. Clearly, it was Zheng Xiaoyue who provoked first—how did it end with her being caught in a trap?

When Hades departed, he said that unless Acris offered the beautiful princess Andromeda as a sacrifice to the gods, disaster would forever haunt him and his city-state.

“Youlian, don’t be anxious. Tell me slowly—what happened?” I struggled to suppress my sudden turmoil, striving to speak gently and calmly.