22 Monster (22)

Of course, despite being on opposing sides and standing on different grounds, Lu Fang would never deliberately belittle Qiao Naihe’s character. Even though they had gone from friends to enemies, Lu Fang still deeply admired Qiao Naihe, a loyal and steadfast general, brave and unwavering in the face of death.

The forces of the Dark Temple were utterly incompatible with the world of the Wilds. The myriad venomous insects belonged to the Wilds, while the former was like water and fire—natural-born adversaries.

A thunderous roar erupted as the laws surged and a magnificent spectacle unfolded. With five hundred thousand elite soul warriors accelerating at full speed, the void seemed to liquefy, as if a meteor had crashed through, sending spatial ripples rapidly spreading outward.

Though he agreed verbally, his gaze turned to Lin Jingyi, for the final decision rested with him.

At the same time, the assault joined by the twenty-eight Saint Realm powerhouses was also met by a silver rain of light, halting their advance.

Worse yet, if they hoped to initiate the resurrection plan but Zhou Fan was absent, most of the plan would be rendered useless, for there was no other supernatural being who could withstand Long Hao’s intervention.

A cheer rang out as two combatants in the center of the body-forging arena fought fiercely, surrounded by onlookers clapping and shouting their approval.

With a loud bang, the kitchen door was suddenly kicked open by a violent force. A figure charged in, radiating murderous intent, grabbed Old Man Wan by the collar, lifted him, and slammed him hard onto the ground. The old fellow hit the floor like a dead dog, his bones seeming to scatter, his eyes rolling back as he instantly lost consciousness.

The shadow dancers moved like soulless puppets, their every motion mechanical and methodical. They dug several large pits in the earth—as if excavating graves, and yet, not quite.

Though he had sworn to Lord Xueyang the Demon Master, Ye Tianxun was not entirely confident in the true strength of the Golden Dragon Warriors.

Grandpa Long felt his resentment deepen, watching the two children become Yitong’s servants to spare him from harm. He simultaneously channeled miasma and yin qi, hastening his body’s recovery.

Yang Mao had thought a pair of unfortunates was already enough, but he had overlooked some universal traits of human nature.

“Sigh.” Back in his bedroom, Chen Heng collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, and pulled out the Bestiary of Mountains and Seas.

Rose, bored, leaned against the couch, recalling how Li Fangfei had once rested in that same position, speaking to her.

Su An frowned, a hint of displeasure on his face. Still, he stopped complaining, removed the blanket from his shoulders, folded it neatly, and placed it on the table, shaking his head at Su Ya beside him.

“So, what do you think? Simple and brutal, right?” Tang Long laughed. Destroying a world was, to them, little more than a game.

The dust raised by Yang Mao as he ran, and the earth churned up by the three moles chasing him, looked like special effects—but it was all too real.

Yang Mao beckoned the green caterpillar over, his voice tinged with guilt, gently stroking the creature’s head to comfort it.

“Maybe we should just get a car. Grandpa, all of you are getting on in years,” Chen Heng said, still thinking of the elders’ bodies as frail as before, his first instinct was always to call for a ride.

“This place is far from the territory of the Monarch Serpent, not even on the same mountain. Besides, it’s unlikely it would come all this way just to watch me fight a stag beetle…” Yang Mao kept his doubts to himself.

Tong Luoshe denied Ashina Yifan’s words, his gaze wary as he observed the strange valley and its narrow mouth. A shiver ran through him, his hair standing on end, as if some unseen force was watching, ready to snatch away his life at any moment.

Of course, for the first scientific expedition, it was still the young people from families with some means and access to knowledge who could participate. Even so, this would still deliver a heavy blow to the established aristocracy.

In the past, officials from the Ministry of Rites would have already been sent to calm the nerves of the Tufan envoys, to showcase the generosity of the Great Tang. That, after all, was the real purpose of the Tufan’s visit.

Though none in Phoenix City were killed instantly by the explosion, they were left reeling, and two special operations team members were seriously injured by the blast’s aftermath.

Now, as he grinned menacingly at them, everyone believed that if they so much as dared to move, disaster would strike.

Take neither joy in material things nor sorrow for oneself. When placed high in the halls of power, worry for the people; when exiled to the wilds, worry for the ruler.

Seeing how resolute Liang Chen was, Murong Zhen could not press further. Unrestricted by the three taboos of geomancy, he could not understand Liang Chen’s persistence, though he did not wish to see him perish within the formation. As for escaping, it was not impossible, but certainly next to hopeless.

The sword light swept clean a swath to Shang Zhengyu’s left. The sight of those who fell, struggling and wailing in pools of blood—men and horses alike—was unbearable. Perhaps truly terrified, some of the Tiger-Lu people did not dare set foot again in that killing field.

“Here, this is your gift,” Zhou Chao said in the dormitory, pulling a present from the Muggle world out of his suitcase and tossing it to Terry.

“Senior brother, with the emergence of this treasure, all sides will be drawn. We’d best watch the tigers fight before making our move,” said the Sanqing. They didn’t yet possess any of those legendary treasures, but an artifact that could gather the might of heaven and earth was enough to make even a future sect master covetous.

Zhang Ruyun said, “Of course. I’ll be staying here for a while longer!” As he spoke, he invited Shen Qixia to visit the Spirit Beast Garden with him, his tone firm and insistent. Gentle by nature, Shen Qixia could hardly refuse.

Yajie bit down hard on her lip. Without experiencing it firsthand, who could possibly understand the meaning behind those two words, “I’m sorry,” uttered by Zhan Xiage?

Such a display could only belong either to the grand necromancy or to one of the seven great generals of the underworld—or even the Dark Lord himself.