Chapter 58

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The head of the Guang family detected the subtle implication in the words of the Shu family head and could not help but smile wryly. He knew that the Shu family had made extensive preparations over the past decades, just as the Guang family had, yet war was never a simple matter—especially the battle for this city, which involved far too many complexities.

Bo Yan’s lips curved into a delighted smile, his eyes radiating an unrestrained joy. Even the corners of his brows seemed to carry laughter, like a child proudly flaunting a victory—naive yet endearing.

Su Qianwan smiled gently. The reason she confided in Liuli was not to keep secrets but because she needed Liuli’s cover to tend to Luo Ying’s wounds; thus, Liuli had to be aware of the plan.

If Emperor Moan had asked about anything else, Yan Zhongye might genuinely have been at a loss, but since the emperor inquired about how he disappeared, the situation was different.

Su Nuan held her breath, naturally afraid of disturbing Yan Hui. Meanwhile, the old ancestor Fan Liu felt as if holding his breath and concentrating, for he had never witnessed such a marvelous technique. He inwardly praised, “Truly worthy of the owner of the divine artifact, the Universe Scroll,” unable to tear his eyes away from any detail of the scene.

Xu Yisheng, still grieving, was momentarily stunned when Lai Yishi handed him a one-yuan coin, only then realizing Lai’s intention.

“In response to His Majesty, although Consort Zhaoyi’s back was cut by a blade, the injury did not reach any vital organs and was not initially serious. I, however, have a method to treat it. But just now, when I examined Consort Zhaoyi’s wound, I discovered it was poisoned with a toxin called Redroot,” Sun Qingzhou explained calmly and clearly.

Is my host a bug? Covered in mysteries, yet the heavenly way remains indifferent. Pray tell, how incredibly formidable must the host be?

He could not make out what the announcer was saying; all he heard was a buzzing roar that made him dizzy.

“What is this thing?” Yan Hui stared for a long time without understanding, preparing to mock the Universe Scroll again, but Taiyi Sword Spirit beat him to the question.

Upon hearing this, Chen Teng turned around to look back. The other was a blond-haired, blue-eyed Caucasian man, with a high nose bridge, tall and muscular, his limbs exuding explosive strength.

Tang Ming’s victory over the Xuanyuan clan years ago was not due to his own power but relied on a single golden-haired monkey king’s fur.

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Jiang Yuxuan knew the moment was critical. If he did not stop Mei Yuyao now, the two of them might never cross paths again in this lifetime.

Jia Qing was careless too. When Daiyu fell, he hastily released her hand and instead guarded her body.

Unable to endure the pain, Xue Pan chose to surrender. He realized that if he screamed and attracted his mother’s attention, it might not work to his advantage.

Thousands of talented warriors from various clans, wielding divine weapons they had seized, seemed to have lost all reason, fighting frantically.

But Chu Tian did not give up. He intensified his efforts; the greater the attraction, the stronger their restraint, and Chu Tian’s swordsmanship grew fiercer.

Ma Zhe was still pondering Qin Fengming’s last words—what did “I can do whatever I want” mean? Could he love both her and Xiaoxuan? He wished she would clarify, but dared not ask. Without explanation, how could he understand?

He arrived at the Star River Lord, his teacher, and repeatedly used avatars. Yet, the Star River Lord’s injuries not only failed to heal but worsened.

“Su Ningshuang took Su Yumu?” Jiang Yuxuan’s heart stirred; as expected, he spoke.

Putting on headphones, the voices and smiles of major broadcasters from his past life flashed through Song Chong’s mind.

To inject fresh blood into the Party organization and nurture new strength, the youth league’s work must be done well. This was a key task that Sun Naizheng planned and set in motion for the Party branch. He was very pleased to see so many youth members present today and intended to build a model learning village akin to Dazhai here.

Tong Xuepian broke free from his embrace and spun around, slapping the man hard across the face. Indeed, the child in her womb was not Junjie’s, but it could only be his.

Soon after, the last giant python in the arena silently caught sight of Zhou Chen’s helpless figure crawling on the ground in the distance.

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“Xu Chuan truly deserves our thanks. Without him, Master Xue Qianlian might not have survived this ordeal,” President Gu Tian said with a look of lingering fear, gazing gratefully at Xu Chuan.

Impossible. These ministers, who had enjoyed wealth and status, were all cowardly, willing to sell even their ancestors to survive.

Heh! Even if our eighty thousand troops are only rural soldiers, can two and a half men not defeat one? Are we really afraid?

As the shopkeeper spoke, Yan Lanxi instinctively touched the birthmark on the back of his neck, his heart pounding rapidly.

“Rest assured, I am perfectly fine,” Xinchu paused, meeting so many concerned eyes, then rallied her spirit to reply.

This child really didn’t know how to care for others. She had tried so hard to buy something for someone, thinking carrying it close was best, but never considered that the high body temperature would melt the painstakingly purchased white sugar cake.

What good is surviving that winter? She believed the virtuous prince was dead; how could a heart broken beyond repair endure the hardships of the Fu family’s days?

“Looks like we can’t use the title ‘Soviet Hero’ to provoke these pilots anymore. It’s just too dangerous!” Lin Jun thought. Only Andrupov behind him remained faithfully fulfilling his wingman duties—after all, he was already a “Soviet Hero.”

Seventeen Soviet-style fighters were operational at the Ninth Regiment Factory. Lin Jun dispatched twelve of them to escort forty bombers loaded with napalm, keeping five fighters and three Hawks in reserve, ready to intercept any Japanese carrier-based planes that might pursue their bombing formations.

The night wind was chilly. Yi Nian tightened her collar as the streetlights cast a hazy warm yellow glow, stretching her shadow long along the roadside.