Chapter 18: Gravely Wounded
Seeing Qin Mianmian in such a state, Qin Yu’s heart ached even more. Slowly rising to his feet, he looked at Jin Ming, who had almost recovered, and said, “Protect Mianmian. I’ll handle this matter.”
“Sir, do you know who the enemy is?”
“I don’t, but someone will likely help us investigate.”
...
Her temperament was the perfect counterbalance to Lin Shan’s rigid ways, allowing her to temporarily suppress those people. The corners of Si Mochen’s lips curled up as his thoughts followed that fleeting “what if” from earlier—if she bore his child, who would the child resemble?
“Let’s just nurse it back to health. Even injured, this little thing is still so lively and resilient. I’m sure you’ll live many more years.” Xu Jinhan spoke as he ordered the robot to bring over the cage from before.
This seemingly harmless youth, a prodigy among the Yuan Kings, was wielded in his hand like a weapon. When he unleashed his fury, he was hardly human.
The class bell interrupted them, and Mo Qingling sat down, radiating an air of self-assured correctness.
When Chu Miaomiao called out, she glanced alternately at the cooks behind her and at Huo Chenyuan, her meaning plain as day.
I used to tease her, wondering how anyone could be fond of a fragrance that was a blend of scents from three luxury brands, mixed with a certain exotic Thai aroma. Back then, Tan Luoxi mocked me for being a bit uncultured, saying I couldn’t keep up with the trends in show business.
This exam was divided into two parts: one was the theoretical knowledge Chu Wuyou had reviewed the night before; the other concerned performance.
Her eyes dimmed a little. She ruffled her messy hair, turned, picked up her bathrobe, and walked toward the bathroom.
It was only then that we could gather the right people for the job. Not like now, when all it took was for the mind to cover a certain range.
The seating arrangement was ingenious. Yun Hong’s seat was right next to Princess Xuyang’s, perfectly suiting his wishes.
Sure enough, there was only one Wind God Fruit, growing right at the heart of the reborn tree’s crown. Its entire body was blood-red, flickering with golden light.
“When I woke,” Qing Rou said, “my true form had been discarded on the roadside. The gardener and Yi Shangyun were gone. I was wounded. As I hovered between life and death, I was lucky to meet you, Silly Brother.” Qing Rou spoke gently, resting her head softly against my chest.
In the next moment, cheers erupted, surprising Xia Mu. He hadn’t expected that, though the Wuyao clan hoped their own would win the wager, they still showed him—an outsider—such respect.
The Time-Space King Whale roared in fury. Usually gentle, it was now wild with rage, and as for that hazy figure—there was no need to say more. It had once crossed swords with the High Priest, neither gaining the upper hand.
“If you have anything to say, just speak. As long as the Hong Sect can do it, it will be done,” Hong Wantong said with a laugh.
Wei Changfeng didn’t enter the battlefield from the center, since chaos still reigned there and his presence would have made no difference. Instead, he circled around and charged out from the army’s rear flank, running straight into his own third squad.
Jiang Yi frowned. In the eyes of these cultivators, he glimpsed a feverish fanaticism. It wasn’t overt, but nothing could escape his sharp gaze.
About five minutes later, Hu Cheng’s cell phone rang right on time. He pressed the answer button.
With the help of the Dragon-Serpent Spear, Su Chenyang felt the Soul Absorber’s body begin to tremble slightly. Wrapped in a black robe, the figure slowly started to turn toward him. The movement was excruciatingly slow, like a broken-down machine, every inch accompanied by the grinding protest of bones.
“I’d better go study my gear,” Wang Yitian said, not daring to explain further for fear of causing more trouble. He opened his backpack once again. This time, when his fingers brushed the necklace, the dagger did not tremble. What was going on? Wang Yitian was puzzled.