Chapter Seventy-Two: A Dream That Was Real

As expected, on the night that Cheng Yu consumed the Devil’s Wave-Tail Immortal and the Cool-Hearted Meat Bun, he once again suffered from diarrhea. Unlike the last time, when he had simply eaten too much at supper, this time Cheng Yu was compelled to rush to the bathroom every ten minutes, making dozens of trips back and forth, disturbing Ming Shuang from her deep sleep.

“Are you alright…? This must be acute enteritis. Once you’ve expelled all those strange things from your stomach, it should pass. I’ll buy you some medicine in the morning,” Ming Shuang muttered as she climbed out of bed, scratching her hair. She filled a glass bottle with hot water and passed it to Cheng Yu, who was crouched on the floor, clutching his belly and groaning.

Cheng Yu used the glass bottle to warm his stomach, but before long, he shoved it back under the covers and murmured weakly, “No, I need to go to the bathroom again…”

I understood immediately and hurriedly stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor. As the doors opened, two attendants approached; seeing that I intended to enter, they instantly blocked my way.

Yet, the Lingxian Manor was no less formidable than the Shendao Palace, boasting legendary figures and heirs of all clans. To truly rank the three academies would be no simple task.

“No, master, if you do that you’ll be in danger,” Qing Jiu objected, refusing to abandon his master and leave him behind under any circumstances.

To enter, one had to register their ID number; the security guards were exceedingly diligent, saying that Sister Fu had already left word.

Yan Rong had intended to let his anger pass, but seeing the hapless child speak so lightly, he suddenly felt his rage flare up again. He glanced around, searching for someone whose shoulder was handy enough to clean house.

Meng Xiao paused, suddenly realizing that his morning exercise habit was the result of years of diligent cultivation. Though Yu Long’er was a reincarnated soul, without perseverance she would not possess her current abilities; yet it was clear she now lacked any real ambition and seemed listless. Come to think of it, all of this was rooted in Gu Chen’s issues.

When Zheng Kuan burst into the room and found her missing, Yan Qiuyi was just then climbing out the window, holding her breath and hiding against the white exterior wall.

Once a patient, Cui Mingmei—who had already set one foot into the realm of death—not only had her severed right arm regrown, but had also awakened supernatural abilities.

As the world’s largest oil industry titan, the Rockefeller family had spent over a century evolving to reach its current prominence.

Her concerns were not unfounded. Lu Shenji was an expert in the Eight Canons of Innate Yi, able to observe heaven, earth, and humanity, discuss the grand affairs of the world, and deduce the course of fate. He was, beyond doubt, a sage unlike any other.

She drew nearer, only to see him suddenly turn his face away. She knelt, straightened his face so they met eye to eye, sighed softly, and then, with practiced familiarity, took out white gauze and medicine from his drawer.

Su Changtian unleashed his thunderous martial strength, lightning arcing silver in the blood pool and stirring up a remarkable commotion. With his eyes tightly shut, this moment was the perfect opportunity.

Staring at the few people saluting him, Chu Yi froze for a moment, then raised his right hand, gripping the hilt of his blade.

“Do you want to see?” Bei Zhiyao’s brows, just now relaxed, drew together again, a hint of surprise in her gaze.

A deep exhalation suddenly filled the air, and in an instant, it was absorbed back into the body.

Bei Zhiyao stroked her hair affectionately; neither spoke. After the meal, Yu Tianqing prepared to return to Jade Residence, so Bei Zhiyao instructed Feng Jie to escort her with a team of guards.

She was utterly unmoved; reaching out, she pinched his waist fiercely. He cried out in surprise and released his grip.

Having escaped the chaos, Yu Sheng lingered at the stairwell, peering out as if unwilling to miss such a rare spectacle.

Swallow was no ordinary person. For him, rather than trusting in unknown illusions, it was better to seize what he desired by his own hand.

An octopus said, “I thought after you ‘ate’ me, you wouldn’t be hungry anymore!” As he spoke, he piled her bowl high with food.

Watching the tadpoles each find their own resting place, Qin Lan felt an immense sense of ease; her eyes slowly grew heavy, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

Limited by circumstances, large sculptures and massive oil paintings are difficult to realize without specialized tools or an artist's studio. Thus, Tang Yun’s eighty-by-one-hundred-twenty-centimeter ‘metal relief’ appeared especially imposing.