Chapter 51: Someone Not to Be Offended

Seeing Lu Ciying in such a state, Jiang Jiuyue felt a few thoughts stir inside her, yet knowing the time was not yet right, she could only soothe her for now.

“Do as I say, and Murong Yan will remember your life-saving grace and treat you well for the rest of your days.”

After all, in the novel, this scene originally belonged to Lu Qingqing. Murong Yan, besotted with Lu Qingqing, cherished her all the more because she had once saved his life.

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Because of this, Zhang Miaomiao often made faces at him, mocking him. Still, everyone in the guild knew their leader had somehow triggered a massive quest line and was now striving to complete it.

In other words, when the combat puppets appeared on the battlefield, the terrifying Lord Sifarnalt could do little more than ordinary attacks; his wide-area spells became nothing but a dazzling display of fireworks.

“My dear cousin, given your involvement in this tournament, I believe that even if Huo Shiwei does meet the criteria for participation, you have the means to prevent him from competing as usual, don’t you?” Long Aotian said, his expression profound.

An Bochun let out a cold laugh, and from the corner of his eye he saw a black dragon soar from the array by the shore, a powerful immortal astride its back, followed by five Threefold Heaven masters and millions of ghost soldiers.

“Don’t forget, I’m still a very devout follower of Lerrendo,” Gawson said with a smile as he extricated himself from the tentacles.

Though the mountain forest by night was filled with fresh air and gentle breezes, it was impossible to ignore the faint, inexplicable scent of blood in the air and the constant, unnatural rustling in one’s ears, as if something dreadful in the darkness was focusing intently on them.

“At last, my turn. But as for my opponent…” Casting a glance at Long Aojiao, Luo Shaoqing smiled and strode into the clearing.

A slender figure stood quietly a few steps away. Elegant as an orchid in a remote valley, yet the smile in those clear eyes carried a trace of enigmatic mockery.

Expectation was one thing, but no one could have imagined that An Bochun would pierce Yuan Fifteen—who held the rank of Marquis-level slave fighter—through the heart with a single spear thrust.

Yet clearly, Silver Whistle had already completed the task. Less than half a quarter hour after Mingsi blew the whistle, the old gardener’s figure appeared at the window. With a sweeping glance inside, he pressed his hand to the windowsill, vaulted in, and landed without a sound. His movements, if anything, seemed even more agile than Qiu Chi’s.

Thinking of his shortcomings, he allocated forty attribute points to strength, and distributed the remaining ten evenly between spirit and agility.

Whenever she was sad, her father would hold her in his arms, speaking softly to her until she stopped crying.

No sooner had she left than a shadow, shrouded head to toe in black, emerged from a dark corner of the room.

After being questioned by the city disciplinary committee, Shen Yunfei grew more and more uneasy. From the line of questioning, it seemed they suspected he had received the inspection report through Jiang Xiangyang. He explained himself repeatedly, but whether they believed him or not, he could not tell.

Lin Tian remained silent; the death of his parents was something he would never forget as long as he lived.

Back then, Xiao Chen’s actions hadn’t been fluid—she only moved after each attack—so there had never been time to react.

The onlookers hastily stepped aside. As Ye Yun entered the dormitory, she saw Lü Fangfang and Sister Ma still locked in a fierce struggle in the middle of the room.

Just look at the Thunder Wielder of Tai Chi—wielding divine lightning, sweeping away all foes. And even someone a step below, like Chen Shaoying with his epic class, peerless in battle, cleaving through everything with a single strike.

“All right, all right, don’t worry. I know what should and shouldn’t be said. I’ll leave you to it,” Liu Zheng’an replied, lowering his head.

With his enemies lurking in the shadows, if he were to show himself openly, he might just draw them out at last.

Moreover, Old Hu scoffed at her, saying that there was simply no way a seventh-stage Nascent Soul cultivator could oppose someone at the Primordial Spirit level.