18 Don’t Argue / 18

“Chen, what are you talking about? You’re not jealous of it, are you?” Luo Liwan teased Nangong Chen with a playful smile.

“What? I can’t do it? Then forget it. If you can’t, don’t provoke Brother Bu Xiao; his heart can’t take the turmoil.” Luo Liwan sounded a little disappointed.

Her father had passed away, and during her childhood, she had wandered among desolate stars. Under Shi Hui’s urging, she had mastered self-defense martial arts.

The constables’ eyes were sharp; the fierce battles were a constant reminder that a single misstep could lead one to endless damnation.

He saw her solitary figure holding that mask, her gaze lost, and couldn’t help but pause, his eyes deepening.

Yet, all these were the hard-earned legacies of generations—martial arts techniques and shadowy skills painstakingly honed and kept secret; one simply couldn’t have access.

In truth, Nangong Li intended not only to sell the delicate incense but also the accompanying garments, which would command a considerable price.

When one typically hired a master craftsman, even if the forging failed, the master would compensate with ten percent of the materials or equivalent spirit stones. But this one demanded fifty percent upfront, which seemed rather harsh.

Ye Wanru’s words effectively shut down Zhao Shiyan’s objections, and her attitude had grown noticeably colder than before.

Liu Fan planned to station his army in Xin’an City, east of Mianchi, temporarily establishing rule to stabilize the local populace.

Li He knew that the once foolish man had now seemingly become an extraordinary figure.

“What are you all standing there for? Chase after him!” Liang Shanglin shouted angrily as he saw Zheng Chen flee.

This phrase was a boast of the Xianbei, indirectly revealing the vast numbers of Xianbei cavalry.

Li He sent them to “invite” the city’s top officials, such as those in charge of the treasury.

As for Liu Shancao, she was still waiting to witness his humiliation and relish his misfortune. Once she left, she wouldn’t see any of it, which was truly regrettable.

Had Huangfu Song or Zhu Jun been the prefect of Dong County, commanding these ten thousand troops, Bu Ji would never have dared act so arrogantly.

This Soul Gate Formation, no matter how one looked at it, revealed no flaws. Even the leaders of the other great mysterious realms hadn’t comprehended its principles.

The northern neighbor’s economy was weak, unemployment soared; the Republic’s GDP surged double digits, creating a multitude of jobs.

No one expected Yan Beichen to appear, let alone strike so decisively against Princess Changning.

Lobanov had long planned, preparing a soul-filled planet, awaiting the desperate Second Gender to seek his aid and seize the River of Life.

“Good you have time; I have some questions for you.” Zheng Jing glanced outside the bar, clearly wishing to keep her conversation hidden from Licht.

“We’re talking about his cow; it died giving birth—mother and calf both lost.” The two hurriedly defended themselves.

It wasn’t surprising; within the Tower of Heaven, Ye Yunfei had already experienced the benefits of concentrated spiritual energy.

After boarding the Sky Escape Shuttle, Fang Yan still pondered the matter, having told no one of his plan to go to the Thunderfall Abyss. If Du Tianye’s words were true, wouldn’t he risk encountering them there?

If Yunshan could find this place, it seemed improbable, yet in some ways, it made sense.

At the end of this defiant path lay the formidable, awe-inspiring Heavenly Dao. What would his future hold? Might he, like the Lord of the Rebellious Tomb, ultimately become but a wisp of divine consciousness?

Though Wu Chi had known the grave consequences of severing the mark, his pride persisted. Even without the Shadow-bearing Sword, he believed he could still dominate the world.

The scene gradually stabilized. The undead war god’s health dropped steadily, falling below half within an hour.

Since the Han army crossed the river and seized Jiankang, the Jiangzuo aristocrats, long secretly allied with the Han, had openly defected.

“Brother Yun, is it for Sister Shen Qiu?” Li Xiao, the eldest brother who knew Li Yun best, teased him whenever Shen Qiu visited.

After years of recovery and refining some silver souls aligned with himself, the old ghost’s soul power had reached the peak of mid-tier Heavenly rank, just one step shy of high-tier.

However, as emperor, one must suppress the masses with dignity and authority—not trudge through mud like a common rat.

From the start, I suspected that so-called black apples were spectral apparitions, but how they transformed, I remain ignorant.

Moreover, the monk’s words were muddled and obscure, revealing neither cause nor consequence, nor clarifying what “calamity” he meant, leaving listeners curious.

This time, the thunderous roar seemed to arise from nowhere. After the boom, the void remained eerily silent.