Chapter Thirty-Three: Demonic Beasts and Premature Death

After the four-person squad joined up with the master and apprentice group, they became a monster-hunting team of six. The master's original plan to spend a couple of days with Ming Shuang in the snowy wilderness evaporated like mist. The eldest among them wore a dark expression, and the other youngsters dared not speak, so they left the glacier in silence that very day, heading to the nearest town.

Yu Zhen was particularly unlucky; whenever the master was displeased, it was he who had to carry three youngsters back, nearly exhausting himself along the way.

The closest town to the glacier was Blackwater Town, where Qing Zhi’s merchant caravan was stationed. The ten crates of river lanterns she’d brought from Chenghuo sold out again, and she was promising the local vendors she’d prepare more for next time.

Yu Zhen, panting heavily, returned to the Wang Caravan just as Qing Zhi was finishing her business negotiations. She greeted him with poise, aware that the energy possessed by these top experts was a fortune in itself. Most importantly, once the twenty levels fused, her share of the energy would increase significantly.

Time slipped by, second by second. Huangfu Ling Tian was recovering, the cultivators of the Divine Dragon Empire were searching relentlessly, even shattering the void as they scoured every corner.

Witnessing this, the soldiers shuddered, sweat pouring down their faces, terror stricken to the extreme.

This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Liu Quan immediately changed his plan, deciding to check in first with the Director and the survivor, Shi Zhu.

“You look like Dehua? Ma Dehua, right? The guy who played Pigsy.” Yu Yang rolled his eyes in disdain, hands in his pockets as he headed toward the restroom.

I squinted at the person at the door, studying them for a long while before realizing it was Jiang Qin. She wore a pink onesie, her hair loose, a sheen of sweat still visible on her forehead.

This time, the ancient spear did not thrust toward the celestial sword in the sky, but plunged deep into a sea of blood.

Lou Chen, notorious for his cleanliness, had done nothing in the earlier chaos, and was even less likely to now.

Thus, the famed troupe of dancers from the Southern Dynasty, exclusive to Lou Chen, made their appearance. Su Ji Yue fixed her gaze: they were indeed Southern Dynasty dancers, though she wondered where Lou Chen had found them, and why they had entered the Mo Qin Palace with him.

Xu Cai delivered her to the destination, then slipped away quickly, as if she were a wild beast to avoid.

Ying Li was racking her brain to explain, only to realize Lu Wuxiu was already gone. She stared ahead, suddenly feeling helpless and lost.

“We’re watching over the fishpond. Just now, the fishpond folks said that after you all came out, they found a chicken missing and suspect you stole it.” The bald man spoke.

His conversations with Chen Mu were so lively, he hadn’t felt the thrill of absorbing knowledge in ages.

Tang Tian and Third Sister toured the workshop, Third Sister inspecting carefully and correcting any issues on the spot.

Citizens saw police cars lined up, dispatched one after another, and grew anxious, asking everywhere what had happened.

His hometown, Tangjia River, comprised a valley and two ridges, the valley stretching three kilometers, an area of ten thousand mu, with nearly two hundred people relying on the land for subsistence. After two or three years of development, the timing was finally right.

His face had been burnt, even his eyelids gone, creating the eerie illusion of two eyeballs hanging on the wall, spying.

Ying Li knew Lu Wuxiu would resolve things, and Shen Ningshuang was formidable too, so she needn’t worry about their safety. But she herself was different: she was the villain, bereft of any halo, and didn’t wish to be struck down before reaching the end.

The black blood seemed to examine me, hovering for a long time before letting out a sound and darting toward the sea, vanishing in an instant.

He pointed at the group sprawled beside him, glaring fiercely at one in particular.

The two, though still sneaking about, now had some confidence; up close, the scent might give them away, but from afar, there was no problem.

The first to report in were Yan Ao and Huang Peng, who camped on the outskirts, closest to the core.

The sun sword and the moon sword had undergone triple tempering, far more powerful than when first forged, but compared to the myriad divine techniques of Liangshan, they were the weakest.