Day Sixteen

“There won’t be such a thing,” Li Qing said calmly. Naturally, he understood why Lan Ruoli was concerned. He feared that after merging the divine soul within his body and awakening memories from a past life, his personality might change drastically. That was why he spoke to the others so earnestly while still clear-headed.

The Blood Scale Spike originally contained a drop of the Great Demon God Zhurong’s blood essence. Now, after Song Yang used the Heavenly Demon Blood Tree to absorb the Earth Vein energy of Tianfeng Island and reforged it, its power had surpassed before, even manifesting as a living avatar of the Great Demon God Zhurong.

Chen Wu’s previously sinister expression instantly twisted in shock, and everyone watched as two large front teeth flew out of the old man’s mouth.

Countless black projectiles were fired into the air—relentless machine gun bursts and shotgun sprays without mercy.

Each word he spoke pierced Lu Youjing’s heart like a thorn, causing him great discomfort.

Suddenly, a flash of azure light appeared in the council hall, and a figure swiftly descended from the sky. The vast, overwhelming aura around him instantly subdued by his own will. If this was not Wang Chen, then who else could it be?

Umi Seiko snorted softly and hurried to the bathroom. What she intended to do there was obvious enough.

“No, this even more formidable bodyguard was personally arranged by Sister Rou, so you don’t need to use this chance here to cozy up to her. Just leave quickly,” Qi Xiaolan said irritably, the tone revealing her strong dislike for General Cheng.

Gradually, Country Q had established itself as the leader among these island nations. They formed an economic alliance that was slowly evolving into a political and military coalition.

A convoy of horse-drawn carriages traveled along a road built closely alongside the forest. The Lost Forest had many terrifying legends, but as long as one did not stray inside, it was relatively safe. Many powerful beasts merely roamed within the woods.

At the same time, he silently felt relieved that he had not taken over another’s body. If he had, having such a terrifying pervert inside Yang Jian’s body would be disastrous. Not even his prime self could have survived a reckless takeover.

“General Zhang came all this way without complaint. On behalf of all at Anping Fort, I thank you!” Yan Sihai was straightforward; he lifted his cloak, clasped his fists with both hands, and knelt on one knee before Zhang Chunrui, his eyes glistening with grateful tears as he glanced at a familiar figure, Yan Xiaosong.

As Uchiha Itachi finished speaking, the Ten-Tails had already reached before them and slapped down with one hand.

In the realm of martial arts, there is always someone stronger. Even the divine beings of fate face days of defeat.

Several ordered models were consecutively canceled, and foreign arms sales cooled, placing immense financial pressure on the heavily invested aviation research institutes and manufacturers. Some smaller factories broke their funding chains, unable to restart production or even pay basic wages.

“Fortunately, you arrived just in time. Otherwise, if the Divine Infant collapsed, even the intervention of the Chief God would be futile!” Yang Jian nodded.

However, matters were far more complicated than the two imagined. The Ten-Tails nearly went mad during Uchiha Madara’s last departure.

With a crisp sound, the slightly plump shop owner immediately covered his face and stepped back several paces.

One by one, postnatal martial artists took the stage. Many were impure-hearted or lacked sufficient cultivation. Few could withstand three punches from the man in the blue robe and pass the test.

Back on Earth, Gu Hao had spent fifteen years breaking through forty-eight portals. Even so, his physical potential was tremendous—bullets wouldn’t harm him unless hitting vital points, and wounds would heal quickly.

The nine-headed flood dragon, having lost one head, was furious. Had it not been for the pangolin’s interruption, it wouldn’t have been careless. Perhaps the black dragon would have become its prey, and it would have gained an incredibly powerful spatial immortal artifact.

“Damn it! So many corpses—enough to replenish my three Corpse Kings! Ha ha...” Laughing loudly, he rushed deeper into the street.

Startled, Zhishan barely had time to think. She waved her hand, dispelling the illusion. The illusion was powered by Chen Fei’s two Golden Dan energies, opposing over ten combined-stage cultivators. Now, a transcendent-level expert’s wave shattered it instantly.

The old shopkeeper looked deeply disappointed, mourning with a pained expression. Rising without a glance at Yue Niang, he bowed to Du Family’s Third Young Master, entrusting Yue Niang’s fate to this so-called Yin Demon.

The man accepted the card, swiped it inside a rectangular box, pressed some buttons, and then Water Wan Yi’s student ID showed a deduction of one thousand gold coins.

At this moment, Du Qingfeng’s face was no longer pale but flushed with vigorous blood. The thunder mark between his brows flickered with purple-golden light, his clothes shredded by fierce lightning, skin white as snow, with faint purple arcs dancing across.

Upon witnessing this scene, Ku Sang believed it but remained horrified and incredulous. What kind of freak was Chen Fei, always bringing him good fortune? If all these strong warriors fell, even returning to the Underworld Sect wouldn’t spare them from punishment.

He lived in the Economic Development Zone, treading carefully, dedicating all his time to work there.

Ruan Xingmian arrived at the school gate and, after showing the director’s note, was allowed in by the gatekeeper.

Immediately, Uncle Lin exploded with rage! Roaring, he slapped Lin Zhaodi.

Gu Xiaocheng picked up the bowl directly, then the spoon, and brought the red bean porridge to her lips.

After all, unverified rumors are like tumors—unreliable and dangerous to spread. Others’ affairs were none of their concern; they merely followed the rules, prioritizing survival.

The teahouse business resembled that of a pawnshop selling liquor. She still needed to attend to customers and couldn’t linger too long.

At the third table sat a lone youth like herself, wearing a bamboo hat, silently sipping tea, with a long sword resting on the table.

The once slowly spinning Chaos Bell of Creation suddenly stopped, glowing brilliantly as the bell rapidly expanded.

A genius of the Gu clan competing for the position of Young Lord of the Wealthy Tower alongside Gu Beihan and others would surely have powerful backing. Otherwise, he would have already perished in internal clan strife.

Although Fang Guanghui was playful, he was still an adult and very aware of the feeling of being disliked.