Chapter 32: The Beginning of the Three-Year Pact

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Suddenly, the Spirit Lord Jingming detonated himself. The self-detonation of a Spirit Lord was immensely powerful; with a thunderous boom, it reduced the entire space to ruins.

Upon learning that the teacher had been beaten to such a state by Xu Ying, time seemed to pause as he stared at Xu Ying with unusual intensity, clearly taken by surprise.

This young man was tall and robust, with sharply defined features. Between his eyes flashed a domineering blade-like gleam. On his back, he carried a heavy, broad long knife, exuding an extraordinary aura.

Qin Mu held unwavering faith in this Hongmeng Daoist. After all, this Daoist had risen alongside him, conquering the Xuanyuang Realm together, and remained fiercely loyal.

“It seems that besides the skills you learned, the opponent does not use the skills attached to their equipment. In battle, I haven’t seen them activate any equipment-based skills,” Qin Yuxin said thoughtfully.

As they pondered, Ji Chengqing and Ji Chengche rolled and clashed fiercely for over twenty rounds without a clear victor.

Yin Mengyao was no fool; knowing Yan Fei was worried about her, her cheeks flushed slightly. She then followed Yan Fei’s instructions and began taking pills from a bottle.

After a brief moment of thought, Yan Fei carried Liu Yun and headed straight for the Furong Pavilion. It was the off-season for tourism; visitors inside were scarce. The Qianyang No. 3 Middle School to the east was densely populated and not a viable option, while the ancient city of Qianyang to the north was even more perilous. Thus, Yan Fei had no choice but to seek refuge inside the Furong Pavilion.

She now understood that Liu Tianrui was like her mother. Although she was very beautiful herself, marrying Liu Tianrui in the future, with such a stunning mother-in-law, would put immense pressure on her. However, if she had children, they would surely be beautiful.

Yan Fei was still uncertain of her exact location. To her right was a great bridge leading to Huaihua City center; to her left, a bustling trade market where the howls of corpses sent chills down the spine.

Holding her breath and gathering her energy, Zheng Ji’s body defied Newtonian physics as he slowly floated upward—one meter, two meters, five meters, ten meters—passing through beams and rooftops until he hovered just over ten meters above the house. This height was neither too high nor too low, perfectly framing the entire Jingguo Shrine within his sight.

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“This won’t do!” Ye Feng frowned deeply, ignoring the blood staining his clothes and the corner of his mouth as his gaze swept continuously over the remaining forty people.

Suddenly, a figure appeared beside him, startling Yuan Yi sharply. The dizziness that had overwhelmed him slightly subsided with this shock. He looked at Zheng Ji with astonishment—had this newcomer already caught up?

At the moment Ye Feng severed Zhong Li’s finger, his body swayed, swiftly grabbing the detached finger. He quickly retreated, creating distance from Zhong Li. With a flick of his left hand, the ring appeared in Ye Feng’s palm.

Abruptly, an anomaly occurred. The Buddhist prayer beads on Zheng Ji’s wrist, a gift from the Karmapa Lama, emitted a faint glow. A chilling aura surged from the beads, coursing through Zheng Ji’s entire body like a transfusion.

As their tightly wound hearts relaxed from the darkness, illusions sprang forth before their eyes. Even the reminder from the Moon Palace Master could no longer lift their spirits or focus.

In a severely injured state, the child’s soul was mercilessly drained by half in an instant. With half of the soul departing the body, the child let out a piercing, mournful scream. At that moment, the body began to wither.

“A man’s brows are heavy and sharp; mine mean that I will never retreat, even unto death!” Determination flashed in Zheng Ji’s eyes as he gazed at everyone, suddenly making a surprising move.

Ming Xu knew that Chu Tianyu was not tired because he had surely cultivated some special internal martial art.

What if Cheng Yelan hadn’t died? If Cheng Yelan had thought differently and resolved to strive forward, who could say his acting skills wouldn’t have improved by leaps and bounds?

Using Luo Rong’s hand was just the right opportunity to screen people—those worth befriending would be embraced, those not, abandoned.

Li Kou glanced briefly and moved on without further scrutiny. He patted the glass cup he held against his chest and strode after Wukong toward the mountain temple.

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The courtyard was empty; the self-feeding device on the steps lay quiet. Qiao Ming glanced around once more before slowly closing the door.

Unmoved by wealth and fame, unless there was another purpose, or ill intentions hidden, neither of which could be tolerated.

Three hundred eighty thousand votes well testified to Nalan Qingting’s immense popularity, which was inseparable from his formidable strength.

Among the soldiers emerged a tall man whose attire was indistinguishable from that of the squad leader—he too was a squad leader within this patrol unit.

The old man was unwilling to resign himself; he resolved to venture out and train until he attained the chaotic legacy. Only then did he realize he was not without a source of Dao, but rather possessed a very rare Dao source, which had led to widespread misunderstanding.

He could not yet grasp the hidden secrets within. He only sensed that his cousin Meixiang’s identity was far from simple—she was certainly not merely a high-level manager at a grand hotel or upscale club as she appeared.

Su Yexi curled up, her finger bones pale. Just the thought of her previous life sent a stabbing pain through her heart—this had become a deep-seated ailment.

“Is your interest rate high then? What—” Whether driven by curiosity or a thirst for knowledge, Hu Dafa wanted to know the precise figures.