Chapter 57: President, You’ve Misunderstood Me

As the words were spoken, they drew the attention of everyone else present. All eyes turned toward Su Qingli, looking her up and down.

"Why has she come again? Wasn't she already dismissed?"

"Oh, she's just here to pack her things and complete the formalities!"

"Haha! Su Qingli, why aren't you acting arrogant anymore?"

...

"I hate your Li family! All your affection is nothing but a sham. It was your family that left me homeless, your family that took my mother's love from me," Ziwei choked out, a trace of sorrow passing through her eyes.

Aside from the cacophony of voices and the chatter flashing across the screen, the entire square felt like a battlefield, leaving one's heart pounding in their chest.

I'm not fond of situations I can't control, so I've decided to show off a little—though it's risky, since I'm about to stand right on the Dragon King Sturgeon's brow.

"You find it funny, don't you? You think those ruined by war, those tortured by the enemy until they're barely human, are something to laugh at?" The more he spoke, the more agitated he became. I saw his body trembling, though I couldn't tell if it was rage or fear—fear, perhaps, of recalling that dreadful war.

Murong Ningyue stood atop the arena in a flowing purple gown, her expression calm as she gazed down on everyone, exuding a powerful sense of oppression.

"Li Jing'er?" Cao Ge, seeing Li Jing'er about to leave after a verbal spar, hurriedly picked up his phone to call her. He frowned slightly, uttered her name softly, but there was no response.

Lu Ran was always considered an exceptionally delicate and handsome man, but standing next to this person, he paled in comparison.

Qi Xiaoting watched the fire, and wherever it weakened, she hurled fireballs or tossed fire talismans to help.

"You fool! Have you been watching too many TV dramas?" The sister, frustrated with her brother, stepped in front of Junxi, gripped the gun in his hand, and slowly lowered his arm.

Cao Zhi felt inexplicably strange. He knew he was handsome—didn't his good looks justify a bit of vanity?

Hearing Mu Sen's remark, Fatty Ye felt embarrassed. What could he offer now? After exhausting himself in so many skirmishes with the Hundred Clans, he was utterly penniless.

The member states of the Commonwealth of Independent States praised Zhou Li's trading company for providing timely assistance, saying it was like delivering coal in a snowstorm and had made a significant contribution to helping the great Russian nation weather its economic crisis. Old Ge even mentioned at high-level meetings that Zhou Li should be awarded honorary citizenship.

Su Zhi's expression darkened again at these words, clearly displeased with Chen Xian's decision.

By now, many people had already left the commercial plaza. The crowd was several times larger than that on Vermilion Bird Avenue, likely reaching forty thousand. Wang Ping'an had calculated that it would take a hundred thousand to fill the plaza to capacity.

Li Chao lit a cigarette as he sauntered down the mountain, phone in hand. He dialed a string of numbers, only to delete them and re-enter them, clearly torn.

Zhang Zhijie, sensing Chen Xian's gaze, quickly lowered his head and dared not meet his eyes.

Zong Shuming could not answer. Even with his background as a chief strategist, he had no way to devise the steps to achieve such a vision.

In the west wing of Yanzhou Prefecture's office, Chai Shao's personal guard Meng Tong was fast asleep. He had been on duty until the second watch last night, and as soon as he returned, exhaustion overtook him.

He saw his own long blade embedded in Shenhua's chest, Shenhua's life draining rapidly, the light fading from his eyes. Liu Zicheng felt as if his head would explode; he stared in disbelief at the scene before him.

Cultivators at the Spirit Division stage were on a completely different level from ordinary martial artists: they were nearly impossible to kill, and their lifespans rivaled the stars. If Mu Sen never broke through to the Enlightenment stage, by the time You Jun passed away naturally, the grass on Mu Sen’s grave would be three thousand feet tall.