Chapter 170: Ye Cheng Walks Right Into the Trap

That entire night, Ye Cheng drank with the hotel owner who called himself Huyan Xi until midnight before finally calling it quits. Huyan Xi had quite a tolerance for alcohol; after downing two jin of white liquor, he only slurred his words slightly but showed no other signs of impairment. In contrast, Ye Cheng himself was starting to feel a bit lightheaded.

After their drinking session, Ye Cheng finally secured the promise he had sought from Huyan Xi. Patting...

On the way back, Ye Linghan kept pondering. Since acquiring the genes of a perfect organism, he had gained the ability to mass-produce primary source energy users. Perhaps, as Lian Ruixiang’s research advanced and perfected, he could even assemble a formidable mechanized unit.

The codename had received unanimous approval from both me and Liu Laoer; it carried a grand, martial spirit reminiscent of the 704th Armed Division or the 312th Infantry Regiment.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than several campus guards, led by Hu Kanshan, burst in with a clatter, eerily similar to yesterday’s scene, clearly having waited outside in ambush.

The Yang family was originally the foremost clan in Shalang City, and Yang Dutian was the most powerful figure there! Those chosen by Yang Dutian could hardly be ordinary.

Finishing his sentence, he swept his sleeve and left the room. Nalan Tianxia interlaced his fingers, his expression unreadable, knowing that Chen Zheng’s words were true. Throughout every dynasty, there had been instances of calling a deer a horse; only in Western Xia was the deception more extreme—calling an elephant an ant.

Gazing at the black markings on the Old Monster Mu Yan, the impostor Madam Zhongyu gaped in astonishment. The Nine-Patterned Blue Python Poison Body was Mu Yan’s signature venomous technique, an advanced profound-level poison cultivation method. Once mastered, the practitioner’s entire body would be suffused with the venom of the nine-patterned blue python, and even a slight touch could poison an enemy fatally.

Suddenly, Zhao Han spoke, uttering a string of archaic, awkward, and rhythmically complex ancient sounds. A mysterious and unfathomable force materialized in the void, coiling like a rope, aiming directly at Shao Zhen.

Because this scarred man, after all that effort, escaped with what was supposed to be the ultimate weapon—only to reveal it was a walking cane.

“So if you ever encounter a ghost beast of that caliber, you must hide immediately. Though it won’t be as powerful as your grandfather, it’s definitely beyond what you can withstand now. Even your Camilla beast might not win,” Long Yi warned repeatedly.

It was an intuition that defied logic or reason, yet it burned intensely in Zhao Han’s heart.

The village chief wondered, “Could it be that he’s delivering a coffin to Dashanmu?” The chief recognized the man as the owner of the Cai family’s coffin shop.

The moment the sika deer darted away, a sharp gleam appeared in Yi’s eyes. The bowstring of his hunting bow twanged, and the feathered arrow whistled as it flew straight toward the deer’s escape route—the exact position Yi had locked onto.

In a daze, Xiang Hao seemed to see a gaping maw of blood appear in the void, as if it sought to devour everything, fixated on him.

“Isn’t it because of you?” Unexpectedly, the two sisters, their eyes red, spoke in unison.

“Of course, it’s nothing... just wanted to ask about your ex-boyfriend,” Fang Yi replied.

At that moment, the surrounding air erupted with the clangs and rumbles of battle—“clang clang!” “boom boom!” Instinctively, Long Di and the others looked toward the commotion, only to see armored warriors accompanied by gene-enhanced soldiers rushing toward them.

“My son speaks wisely. When the emperor makes a judgment, even if you possess unparalleled power, you cannot decide the fate of the Ling Dynasty,” the elderly man with salt-and-pepper hair solemnly declared beside the man in the azure robes.

Luo Wushuang’s roar was louder and more piercing than Xuan Yuan Ba’s. If Xuan Yuan Ba’s bellow was the furious roar of a lion, then Luo Wushuang’s was the primal, earth-shaking scream of King Kong in an American film.