Volume One, Chapter 110: Both Are Losing Their Minds

Su Li soaked in the water for a long time.

Mo Xingyuan stood outside, staring at the small smear of blood on the bedsheet, his heart clenched painfully.

He tore off the sheet and tossed it aside before calling the hotel staff to replace it with a clean one.

Only after everything was taken care of did he walk back into the bathroom.

“Brother He, I’m not afraid of you making fun of me. To tell you the truth, it’s been nearly a dozen years since I crossed over, and I’m still a virgin.”

“That’s excellent. I’ll find a suitable cultivation technique for her later and have her practice it.” Elder Feng beamed with delight.

She looked like a child waiting for praise, eager for Chu Heng’s approval, as though his praise alone could give her strength.

Besides, when an army is defeated, it collapses like a mountain. Once a battle is lost, everyone flees as if possessed, and not even eight oxen could drag them back. Rumors about the defeat only grow more outrageous with every telling.

It felt as though blood were churning in his chest. Chu Heng’s vision went black, and after spitting out a mouthful of blood, he collapsed completely.

That slap seemed to exhaust every ounce of Qin Hao’s strength, leaving Su Zhengfang in a pitiful state. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his cheek swelled red in an instant.

She could not breathe and was forced to open her eyes. Chu Heng’s expression was indifferent, his gaze cold as snow on a frozen mountain. He looked so unfamiliar, as if he did not know her at all.

“You are Heaven? Hahaha, how ridiculous!” Cai Xukun gave a cold laugh and stepped forward, pointing at Xiao Linfeng.

He had not noticed in the slightest that the commander urging them to hold the line was gradually withdrawing from the front.

This time, however, the eighteen dragons formed from primordial chaos energy had changed. Their bodies, originally insubstantial, had become solid dragon forms covered in stone.

As he spoke, he took a woodcutter’s axe with a curved blade from inside the house. Da Niu accepted it and went off to chop wood, not sparing the girl another glance. He thought she was far too greedy. How could a young woman behave like that?

Instead, he bore some resemblance to Jin Xicheng. Both had the gentle, refined appearance of jade; their clear eyes shimmered with moisture, beneath tall, noble aquiline noses. Their pale pink lips curved faintly, and their light smiles passed like clear spring water, stirring a ripple in the heart.

The Ru ware gourd-shaped vase Song Deqing had acquired was indeed finely made. Ru ware was usually glazed in shades such as sky blue and powder blue, with soft colors, a fine body, and a luster like jade. This gourd vase had been fired in a Northern Song imperial kiln. Very few had survived, making it worth a fortune.

Gu Meng looked at Si Cheny i without saying a word. Gu Meng knew who Si Cheny i was—the undisputed expert among the mercenaries. The fact that he was willing to work for Guan Chenji, and had continued doing so for so long, had astonished Gu Meng greatly. Given Si Cheny i’s sharpness and cunning, Gu Meng would never let down her guard around him.

Even so, the various section chiefs had already issued warnings, ordering everyone to remain extremely alert and carry out their duties properly. Not a single mistake could be allowed.

If there was anyone who would do such a thing, he could only be a fool. But fools generally could not become leaders, so naturally there would be no such person. There were plenty of people who acted arrogantly beneath them in ordinary times, but they could never truly hold their own in public.

This time, he did not change his choice. Since Lan Tian had selected four, then four it would be. The homophone sounded rather ominous; he only hoped everyone would not end up dying here together.

After returning to his room, Zhao Fuxin carefully reflected on the two martial arts techniques he had just learned. The Eighteen Imperial Gate Techniques were simple and practical, and he was extremely satisfied with them. The Flying Eagle technique, however, was obscure and difficult to understand. If he had the chance, he would have to practice it properly.

Behind Uncle Mo, the man who had carried the person over earlier was describing the situation in a local dialect. His speech was hurried, and he was clearly extremely anxious.

Halfway there, Bai Yi sat down and counted the money in his pocket. As he counted, he began to laugh.