Chapter 52: Grouping
After registering all members of Chaochao’s group in the Tu River area, they set off in the afternoon and arrived at Yanshan Pass by evening.
Beneath the setting sun, the silver-white expanse stretched as far as the eye could see. Houses were densely clustered, smoke curled gently from chimneys, and the sounds of chickens and dogs mingled amid the bustling human activity. This was the place they were about to call home and dedicate their lives to.
Chaochao exhaled visible breath, glanced around, and followed the group along the narrow, freshly cleared snow path. His footsteps crunched softly on the thin layer of snow as they passed through vast stretches of pristine white fields and gradually denser settlements.
As an elite assassin, the half-orc with green skin showed a flicker of frustration and disbelief. After countless successful assassinations, his mastery over his weapons was unparalleled. He was certain his initial strike had hit Martin, though it had not been fatal.
Hesitation seemed to freeze the movements of the opposing zombies, rendering the battlefield eerily silent.
Thousands of unarmed Slingers were surrounded by a phalanx of spear bearers. Although these spearmen bore facial similarities to the Slingers, the latter felt a deep, instinctive fear when looking at these so-called “brothers.”
Of course, caution and patience were essential. Success was rare and relative; life was both fleeting and enduring, so one must never rush but proceed steadily.
In 1986, the Chernobyl disaster erupted as Reactor No. 4 at the nuclear power plant caught fire and exploded, releasing over eight tons of highly radioactive material—its intensity equivalent to 400 atomic bombs detonated over Hiroshima.
It was straightforward, and more importantly, it served as a warning to other powerful noble families in the kingdom who sought to challenge the Lorin family.
She did not refuse, tacitly consenting. I strode toward Zheng Mingfeng; he heard my footsteps, struggled fiercely, whimpering fearfully.
Qi Lin aimed not only to utterly disgrace the four red cardinals but also to “rehabilitate” Ling Kui, who had once wreaked havoc in the Steel City.
Before eight o’clock, the area outside the Cinema Palace was already lively. The attending media and reporters rivaled the opening ceremony of a film festival. Many fans without invitations openly held up expensive signs, hoping to buy tickets before the screening began.
“I’m fine...” I answered weakly, then hurried out of the tent. The sight before me jolted me—a chill ran through my body. Three mercenaries lay dead on the ground, all having had their throats savagely bitten by wolves, blood sealing their fate.
If not for Jiang Yu’s call, she thought she might have spent the following days utterly isolated from the world.
“Let’s go.” Blake rolled his eyes and grabbed Ray’s hand, passing through the silver-white shimmering veil—the scene ahead was just as horrific.
About five minutes later, the official website of University C posted a statement clarifying the controversy about Ye Ling’an’s admission spot, attaching her original transcript for transparency.
Even guests staying overnight had to enter through the rear, wind-filled corridors; only those holding invitations could enter through the main gate.
Sure enough, the nightmare creature, upon regaining consciousness, was on the verge of rampage. Moments ago, it had nearly killed its own master—a disgrace intolerable to any servant.
“Last night I seemed to dream of someone calling me Wuer, and they lingered with me for a long time,” Shen Huai said, setting down his teacup and licking the corner of his lips.
On the journey aboard the “Ghost Ship” Byron, Ray had already heard from Kai Xi—now confirmed dead—the news of Sorenson’s demise.
His eyes were as deep and calm as still water, and Shen Huai felt as if his very soul was being drawn in, drowning within.
Chu Zheng found nothing more to understand, and as it was getting late—and though Li Chunshu’s health was stable—rest was still needed. He excused himself, promising to stay in touch.
“Don’t mind him. If he can’t control himself now, he’ll suffer even greater losses in the future,” Li Mu said, somewhat pitying but confident that everyone’s ignorance of the card draw mechanics on opening day explained the behavior. Once they understood, they wouldn’t be so foolish. After all, two hundred thousand should have been enough for two hundred draws.