It is easy to dodge an open attack, but difficult to guard against a hidden arrow.

Feng Yi glanced at Xie Junhe, who was reveling in his success, feeling utterly speechless. She then looked at Chu Tao, whose expression now held a hint of elusive uncertainty. Upon hearing the call, Ling Yu, Zhao Dashan, and Bartson immediately sprang into action, their attacks relentlessly pursuing the darting bright spots. Soon, a crack appeared in the crystal seal. Ling Yuan’s voice was somewhat dazed, his face full of shock, then tinged with suspicion. “Purple-feathered Black Fiend... Chasing Feather... Sword Sect—the most domineering swordsman?” His gaze once again landed on the purple stone hanging from Xie Junhe’s waist.

Lu Shuang, Uncle Fu, and Tang Yi were struck with terror. Through layers of white mist, they saw dozens of skeletons suddenly launch an attack at them, and fear naturally took hold in their hearts. Ye Feng cast a glance at Luo Pingwei and bowed low. “My lord, I do not quite understand your accusations. Moon Harbor is a government office of Ming Dynasty; how could there be any traitors here compared to your status?” “Hmph, Ye Feng, how dare you shelter traitors? What punishment do you deserve?” Luo Pingwei shouted sternly.

Thus, Guo Lin, at the Soul Refining Intermediate stage, could easily send Qing Wu flying. Of course, even among those with equal strength, differences in battle techniques, magic, and skill mean their overall power varies. With so many troubles piling up, he decided not to tell Ye Chengxuan about this matter. Yet he never imagined that this single thought would become a lifelong regret.

Such was the emperor’s political acumen. Though tradition dictated a clear divide between ruler and subject, his magnanimity now would become a tale for the ages, a testament to his wisdom and a king admired and revered by his people.

Why must they be adversaries? She lifted her head, gazing into the pitch-black night sky. Was it simply because she was born into the Leng family? Because the Qi and Leng families had been close for generations? Because these two shores harbored inexplicable hatred? With tear-stained cheeks, she let out a muted laugh.

Suddenly, heads popped out of windows in the tall buildings on both sides, calling out loudly to Mo Yu and her companions, hoping to join them in their escape.

It was still early before their scheduled meeting. Xia Yun ordered a cup of coffee and sat by the window.

Unfortunately, Mo Yu could not understand a word. The other person spoke in what sounded like a regional dialect—neither standard Mandarin nor a foreign language.

The intrigues of the imperial court were exhausting. Ning Chaoyang simply desired a person as pure as white paper: lowly in status, dignified in appearance, and so weak as to stir pity.

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“Grandpa, don’t be upset. We brought you a gift, too.” Song Mo bounced up to Old Song and shook the present in her hand with a bright grin.

No matter her character or status, in front of him, she was always a frail patient needing care.

A Grade One rune already had impressive effects, but mostly because he used a spirit stone. If he had used ordinary jade, the result would have been much weaker.

“Are you curious why I appear healthy, yet they say I’m sick?” Xu Piao noticed the confusion in her eyes and gently pointed it out.

Mo Yu watched the approaching crowd calmly; aside from the two Evolvers in front, the rest were ordinary people—not worth his attention.

He took out the card he had tossed into the drawer earlier, gripped it tightly for a moment, then placed it back inside.

However, seeing Murong Xin’s anxious expression, Chu Tianyu stopped and asked Tu Feng to wait outside, promising he’d be out soon.

Even in this age of powerful people, advancing to King-class was difficult. Since King-class couldn’t be mass-produced, the solution was to build mechas capable of rivaling them.

Zhu Xuefeng, gifted with innate strength, developed a unique fighting style all his own.

“A one-sided story. How can we be sure your Blade Mist Sect hasn’t fabricated it?” Ye Tu retorted coldly and defiantly.

Suddenly, a loud voice rang out, reciting Su Zimo’s deeds one by one. The list began mildly, but as it went on, the voice grew increasingly intense.

After hearing Ye Feng’s words, the faces around him froze for a moment. But only for a moment—then they surged forward again, their words now venomous and malicious.

If this mine is missed, there’s no telling when another rich mine will be found. Perhaps one or two Level Two miners would advance to Level Three thanks to it.

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He still didn’t know if his own universe could be protected, let alone end a larger war.

Collecting the crystal nuclei from spider zombies and gathering resources scattered on the ground—all that could be left to the robots. This was a special purchase by Duan Qiu.

Chen Jing found himself much like Sun Xuan, or rather, all scions of great families were the same: outwardly cordial, but always harboring their own agendas.

The recent rise of the all-electric Zhi-22 and other weapon systems depended entirely on an element sourced from Peach Garden. It enabled ordinary lithium batteries to store twenty times more energy at only a modest increase in cost.

Tonight, Ye Junchen wore a crescent-white brocade robe draped with chiffon sleeves adorned with cloud patterns. Tall and elegant, he exuded a refined and graceful charm, like jade—his presence effortlessly captivating.

“Open this barrier.” The Kirin, naturally proud, was even more frustrated now that its power was sealed. It raised its pointed chin defiantly.

Fully artificial cultivation costs were indeed higher, mainly due to electricity. But in other ways, it was more efficient; wheat compost soil was spread thin, seeds sprinkled and watered regularly, and soon it would be time to harvest.

The main cash crops were cotton and tobacco. Their trials showed nothing special—if other plants were fine, so were they.

The Yang family’s headquarters was in the imperial capital, but they had a base in Black Duke City as well. Just two days ago, a group of black-clad assailants dealt a heavy blow there, leaving two stewards badly wounded or dead.

He opened the door to the private booth again and found four young men sprawled asleep over their keyboards. Empty beer bottles and cigarette packs lay scattered across the computer desk, and their snoring was rhythmic.

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