Chapter 33: The Crimson-Clad Specter

The inn was shrouded in darkness. I immediately took out the bone lantern from my backpack, and its blue glow illuminated the surroundings, revealing a scene of decay that far exceeded my expectations. Directly facing me was an old, worn-out front desk, upon which lay some office supplies—a register for guests, a pen, and a landline telephone. All of these items were covered with a thick layer of dust. I walked over and gently wiped...

He threw several punches in succession, successfully forcing Ashui to retreat. The King of Seven Fingers was overjoyed, and with a wild laugh, unleashed a few more blows.

Yet before he could beg for mercy, a slender thread wrapped tightly around his neck.

She knew the Fourth Prince had always been a libertine, but she had not expected him to be so bold as to flirt with the prince’s own attendants. The scene just now had startled her as well.

One day, Zheng Zhong, who was leading a team of cultivators on routine patrol around their base, suddenly stopped his flying light and turned to look.

Wang Mengxuan pursed her lips, giggling secretly. Tong Ziyao gazed at her beautiful instructor with admiration, and reached out to catch Bai Fusheng.

Just as Zheng Zhong anticipated, when the first giant palm shattered the Mysterious Water Spirit Shield, the old monk’s eyes flashed coldly and he formed a spell with one hand.

Any grandmaster martial artist in the Mortal Realm capable of projecting their fighting energy could easily crush those wandering souls and wild ghosts with their external force.

Princess Yongyang kept these words in her heart. Later, she took the Eighth Prince, Xiao Zhongjun, to the Earl of Guang'en’s residence.

Her talent for cursing surpassed Ashui’s talent for killing; with just a few words, she enraged Wu Xin, who spun around furiously. She cursed Ashui’s body, then his parents, and finally the ancestors of eighteen generations.

In the end, Zheng Chong commissioned a renowned painter to create a portrait of Zheng Zhong for posterity.

The fifty thousand tael invitation proved effective. Wang Zhenxi met with Qian Baijiang, listened to him recount the matters concerning Long Yinle and Chu Ye, and secretly laughed at Qian Baijiang’s foolishness, though outwardly he seemed sympathetic. After offering some words of comfort, he allowed Qian Baijiang to stay temporarily in the Prime Minister’s residence.

“Afeng, put it on. Today’s our squad competition; we’ll all go down to cheer for you and Da Lei,” Su Yu said.

Ordinary assassins would leave immediately after killing. But Skyfiend was different; he enjoyed killing in succession, and after each murder, he liked to toy with the police, playing games with them. Only when he grew bored and had killed enough would he finally depart.

The great Demon King of Strength, Rapati, was the most powerful demon lord in the third layer of the Endless Abyss, occupying almost half its territory. The rest of the third layer was divided between two other demon lords: Tayshal and Ninit.

Hong Zhisheng closed his eyes, and could not help but sigh inwardly. His lips trembled, though no sound escaped them; yet in his mind, he could not suppress the question that burst forth: What’s wrong, dear? What trouble weighs on your heart that you must utter such a mournful sigh?

No matter how things unfolded, Jorel Martial Artist Chang Dina could not escape Dolor Castle, and at the very least, dared not venture lightly into the Prime Material Plane.

Colonel Wu uttered a word, and Wei Feng’s eyes looked ahead. After the off-road vehicle crashed through a dense canopy of leaves, they spotted a crude military camp built at the foot of the mountain. At the entrance of the camp stood two formidable guards. After inspecting Colonel Wu’s credentials, they allowed the vehicle to pass.

His fists were powerful enough to kill a tiger with one strike; he expected this move to leave both opponents utterly defenseless.

Hongyan and Moyan regarded Yinle’s orders as sacred. Seeing Shoutou in such distress, they felt pity for him. Though Shoutou was tall and strong, his intelligence was that of a child; to torment a helpless child in this way would anger even a Buddha.