How many dreams has life passed like floating clouds—seven in all.

He knew that the more everyone speculated, the more restless Li Jing would become, and his reluctance to act was precisely because he was waiting for the perfect moment.

He often caused trouble, but whenever he was scolded, he always had a retort. Yet today, he kept his head bowed and remained silent—quite odd. Qian Yun frowned, rose, and stepped out into the courtyard, bowing respectfully to Ji Jing.

These "second-generation elites" had no such worries. As long as there was genuine talent, the sect leader and elders were willing to pay any price to have the "Three Masters" of the sect impart their knowledge.

Qian Huan was dumbfounded, his mouth agape for a long time without uttering a word. He had only ever hoped for his eldest grandson to be healthy, never imagining anything else, nor had he foreseen Li Er would become so furious.

Ji Jing entered, put down the mosquito net, and gently kissed Qian Huan's cheek before leaving to prepare the notice for all the Qian family managers.

The Five Elements Array was terrifying in its power; the Five Lords of the Underworld once used it to battle a half-step Middle Star-ranked Grand Venerable and emerged undefeated.

"Lord Liu, forgive me, but I have no intention of dying here." At this moment, Nie Tian smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth twisting into an enigmatic grin.

The dagger was pitch-black throughout, blade and sheath formed as one, seamless even at the connection of the hilt—imperceptible to the naked eye. Though its craftsmanship was unadorned, beneath its simplicity lay the exceptional artistry of its creator.

Pei Qingzhi leaned slightly, her eyes filled with envy as she gazed at the two playfully bickering beside her. This, she thought, was how love ought to be.

The King of the Divine Kings was thrown back by an invisible wall of air. Lin Kun looked on; in his eyes, the king now shone with no golden brilliance, only streaks of gold veins pulsing ceaselessly.

The Western Emperor’s words carried the melancholy of a fallen hero. In that moment, Ye Chen felt as if Mu Yuanshan sat right before him.

Everyone was stunned. If it had been Qin Chong’er or An Ruoxi mentioned, these soldiers might not have recognized the names, but Lin Nuoya—her tales with Bai Li Jiu had been a constant topic among the townsfolk, stirring much speculation and gossip.

Had I not returned in time, Xu Chenxi might have met a grim fate. These ghosts did not kill him, but I cannot quell my anger.

As a man, to betray the woman who adored him wounded his youthful ambition deeply.

He had thought he would never have children in this life, never expected to reunite with Ruo Jun, and certainly never imagined he would have a child with her. It was a blessing beyond measure. Yet now, she was taking their child to marry another man—how could such an absurd thing happen?

When Liu Qizong probed with his divine sense, the clansmen would notice, and someone might come to question him. He waited at the door, ready to block them.

The Whirling Heaven Spear brushed past the Primal Treasure Fan, barely hindered, piercing straight toward the "Fairy of Colored Clouds."

Ruo Jun lay back on the bed, continued fanning herself, and listened to the sound of water splashing at the trough outside, her mind drifting into a drowsy haze.

Later, Ninth Lord would often recall, with lingering savor, the torment endured that night, praising Nuoya’s unique skills endlessly.

Countless thoughts flashed through her mind; before her, consciousness gradually faded, as if invisible hands waved before her eyes, constantly blocking her sight.

Pinned by his wife among a heap of rose bushes, his back burned with pain—no one could truly understand the agony of those thorns.

"What did I do?" Airi was still pondering the way Yunhen left. What was going on?

"To hell with training! ... Could it be, brother, you despise Iron Ox, that you find him crude and violent? Surely, my lord brother would not think that way..." Li Kui cursed, then suddenly grew melancholy, his wild, yellowed beard limp as he complained with a note of grievance.

Because earlier, Wu Ming overheard them, and they still retained their own consciousness. If they were truly the living dead, how could they have a dominant will?

Zhu Wu was interrupted by chaotic questions. He wanted to respond but feared his brothers might be punished by military law, so he glanced at Song Shijiang for guidance.

After all, this exam affected the seating for the semester and was the teachers’ first impression of everyone, so they took it quite seriously.

"To restore the old land and face the imperial gates... What a song! To restore the old land and face the imperial gates. Such heroic melody, lofty ambition, a heart full of loyalty and blood, awe-inspiring as the gods themselves." Xun Yu clapped his hands in admiration.

She stayed behind precisely in case of emergencies. Now that the worst had happened, did she truly have a solution?

A moment of silence fell; then, from behind a large tree, a man in his twenties slowly emerged.

That night, the physicians raised their torches and worked through till dawn. Zhu Houhuang did not sleep either, sitting in solitude till sunrise.

Yu Fan glared at him. The fellow looked decent enough, with a cool face, but his words were always off-kilter.

The once pitch-black Western Yue camp suddenly lit up with torches. Rows of troops, already prepared for battle, rushed toward the flank.