Volume One, Chapter 122: Drunkenness Beneath the Moon

This martial technique requires that, during combat, if one senses even the slightest heaviness in the left limb, that part must immediately become insubstantial. His move was fierce, like a tiger going for the heart; faced with a relentless assault, he met force with force, seized the briefest of openings, and broke through. The power of the successive strikes instantly waned.

“No, the Frost King doesn’t possess any single-target spirit ring skills, so his single-target damage is insufficient. He simply can’t kill a Spirit King-level opponent,” Uncle Li said, shaking his head.

“Then I’ll take on a mid-tier Grade Six dragon soul,” declared the wind elementalist, his aura slowly unfurling, almost rivaling the late Grade Six level.

There were also people from the Yin-Yang World, as well as Chu Yuelan, Li Qionghsin, Bai Rujin, Li Zizai, and others.

In He Qingcheng’s heart, Chen Daxiu definitely held a place, though even she wasn’t sure what label to give to that position.

Outside the main hall lay a vast, leveled ground, meticulously prepared—this would serve as a spacious arena for martial demonstrations.

The three stepped into the village. Although Fangte’s clothes were plain, Rad’s black-gold robe and Dongxue’s elegant snowy dress attracted so much attention that the villagers kept their distance, casting wary glances at these “noble lords.”

Chang Le’s chained blade technique was ruthless—one slash to the throat, the next to the chest, a third upward to the groin. Each strike flowed into the next: a step forward, blade drawn, another step, a pivot, and three more upward slashes.

Without looking up, Shen Guyan quietly added his own sharp remark. Yining’s opinion instantly won unanimous agreement from the two beside her; only then did she lift her chin in satisfaction and look at Wang Ze.

Powerful streams of energy burst from the two combatants’ joined palms, expanding in all directions.

With a casual wave of the strange man’s hand, the black and white aura twining around Yue Wuxin’s body suddenly dissipated, and with a loud thud, Yue crashed to the ground.

But just then, the sound of chaotic footsteps echoed from outside the main gate, and soon, fifty or sixty people rushed in from the distant street, charging into the hall.

At that moment, the young nobleman was utterly terrified. He stammered incoherently, his whole body trembling, even forgetting the pain between his legs for a brief instant.

Seeing the bolt slide open, Miao Xing and the others were overjoyed, thinking Wu Guixing might have escaped through there.

Jiang Yikang had no choice but to throw out tens of thousands of magic treasures again, using the explosive force of their self-destruction to temporarily hold back the waves of the River of Forgetfulness.

He also recalled that these black bees were the infamous death-bringers—one sting from the deadly venom bee meant instant death.

The school organizing this summer camp was investigated by the authorities and issued a statement regarding the incident.

A violet Heaven’s Eye slowly opened. With a single glare, it radiated a might like that of the heavens—unyielding, as if it understood its predicament. With a roar, a beam of violet divine light swept forth to clash with the Thunder God Fist.

With each punch Jiang Yikang threw, dozens of ghostly soldiers were struck down, none able to block his path in the slightest.

From just now until now, she really had been holding it for a while, but the temperature was far higher than it should have been in her hand.

Hearing what Chen Jiashu said, Lu Xiaojing’s face flushed with embarrassment. Only then did she realize it was her turn to report on her department’s weekly work, and she had been completely unaware. Never before had she made such a fool of herself. She felt a wave of regret, but soon composed herself.

Such wounds were hardly fatal in the face of the Sharkskin’s healing abilities. The Watermelon Mountain River Puffer Demon rolled upright and, without hesitation, continued its escape.

He knew her abilities. If not for Zhang Keyi’s interference, how could she have failed to place?

Everyone present felt the oppressive pressure, and at once, fear gripped their hearts, making them immediately behave themselves.

In her previous life, she had never met her worthless father and only knew of him through her mother’s wistful recollections.

A stifled laugh slipped from behind Liu Xiaozhi, interrupting her words.

Her face reddened inexplicably. Why did those words sound so suggestive?

Even Tobirama Senju often praised his disciple as one who could shoulder great responsibilities as a ninja.

In her mind, the noble and dazzling black silhouette appeared again, and Mu Zhiqing’s eyes softened with a smile. She wondered if she would be able to attend this year’s Lantern Festival with Yun Ting.

“Is that so? If I recall correctly, last time my brother beat you so badly you had to flee like a drowned rat, didn’t you?” Qin Yi mocked.

Wei Wei had yet to recover. What had just happened felt hazy, but he remembered achieving his original goal.

“Of course I’m happy. At home, I have my brother, my mother, and my grandmother. Only Auntie is not so good.”

Lin Ziyi sent a sticker of someone spitting blood, then another: “I never thought you were this kind of person.”

Kang Da, standing nearby, added, “By now, I’m very familiar with this place and the laborers in the naturalization camp, so I’m useful staying here.”

Yet, before placing it in a scenic spot, he suddenly wanted to visit a certain entrepreneur.

Back in my hometown this year, we’re not allowed to leave any land uncultivated. I borrowed a machine from my uncle to try plowing about half an acre. My hands blistered badly, and my arms were so numb I could barely hold my chopsticks.

Shadowstep was the unique skill of Yōupian, one of the Beast Kings of the Black Forest—a Heaven-ranked technique. How could Hao Youdao’s speed compare? Moreover, Leng Ao had already mastered the third realm of Shadowstep: Shadowless.

She was curious how a mere Nine-Star Spirit Realm could possibly withstand her seductive melody.

Ever since Xuemang became city lord, he got along quite well with Shangguan Ming and Feng Tujiao, which was why he sought their counsel—hoping their intelligence network in the Overlord Nation could offer some advice.

The old nurse, weeping, kowtowed to An Cheng. “Miss, take care of yourself.” Four years had passed, and she could not say there was no attachment.

A cold wind blew, clearing Ji Wujing’s mind a little. When she ran out, she had only taken her handbag, forgetting her coat. Now, in the chill, she shivered violently.