Chapter 42

"If there are any family and friends left, tell them to wear masks and come for one final farewell." Old Fan's words were essentially a death sentence for the four of them.

Everything fell silent once more. That glaring white door gradually dimmed, slowly dissolving into a phantom, on the verge of fading entirely into the void.

Even through genetic profiling, no definitive conclusions could be drawn due to underlying biological differences. It was only known that, although the two races bore a somewhat similar appearance, their genetic divergence rate exceeded forty percent, making them completely distinct species.

"I believe this matter should be judged by quality rather than quantity!" Yan Huang declared, dodging the attack of the corrupted Stone Brave and engaging him in a fierce, entwined battle.

In truth, Park Sun-joo's words could be simply interpreted as whether one merely enjoyed singing or truly loved the essence of music.

Achilles, whose soul was connected to the Four-Image Furnace, sensed the resistance emanating from the sea monster's body. A manic gleam flashed within his stern, cold eyes.

Wu Xue was filled with incomparable grief and indignation, letting out a furious roar. Truly, he had tried to steal a chicken only to lose the bait; not only had he lost the Fusang Spirit Vine, but even his Blood Wheel—a powerful Dao artifact known as the Dimensional Blood Wheel capable of cleaving void matter—was gone.

This kind of alchemy apparatus was undoubtedly unprecedented, appearing for the very first time. Previously, pills were generally refined through large-scale pharmaceutical factories using cauldrons or crafted directly by alchemists; the presence of an alchemist was previously absolute and irreplaceable. Yet with this device, even an ordinary person could concoct low-grade pills.

From this day onward, among the volunteer armies suppressing the Yellow Turban rebels, an undying warrior became utterly renowned. He showed no fear of death on the battlefield, charging ever forward. Even when his entire body was riddled with arrows like a hedgehog, he defiantly beheaded enemy generals and seized their banners before countless witnesses. His dauntless bravery terrified the Yellow Turban rebels into retreating three hundred paces, not daring to engage him.

Wang Yi was quite tall, yet thin as a bamboo pole—the very picture of severe malnutrition. He was exceptionally homely, though he remained entirely oblivious to the fact, perpetually imagining himself to be dashing.

Before long, grieving specters emerged from the river one after another. Gazing upon these wraiths, I did not dare utter a sound.

Normally, people do not deliberately observe the subtle micro-expressions of strangers; for instance, Volley had failed to notice Yuri's slight facial shift just moments before.

"You're courting death!" Xiao Wuyue was the first to strike, her long whip lashing out like a probing viper. Wang Dang swept his spear in a circle, attempting to entangle the whip around the shaft. Realizing his intent, Xiao Wuyue flicked her wrist with blinding speed, the tip of her whip snapping directly toward the fingers gripping the spear. Seeing this, the latter hurriedly retracted his weapon and widened the distance.

Yet beside Mufeng stood an old man. Merely meeting the gaze of these two sent a shiver of mortal dread through them.

Yuri could not help breaking out in a cold sweat. If it were him, he wouldn't even have been able to endure a single day in such a ghost of a place. Who cared about whether the world was destroyed or not? To dedicate one's entire life to the world without a soul ever knowing, without even a shred of a decent reputation—living a life worse than death while denied even the release of suicide.

Yet it was precisely this seemingly ordinary black stone door that caused the Battle Immortal Axe to emanate wave after wave of fearful emotion.

Every single dish was completely devoured in less than a minute, not even leaving behind any sauce. Some shameless individuals even licked the plates clean one by one.

On the other side, the Nine Provinces Bear tattoo on Zhao Yun's chest flared into light, once again borrowing a power that did not belong to him. There was no help for it; the purification force within Fubai was far too immense, and under his mortal-realm cultivation, the chains could not absorb it quickly enough. He had no choice but to continuously elevate his cultivation until it reached the peak of the state of mind.

It was clearly Yun Qianmeng's mother who had forcibly wedged herself between his father and mother; why should he be the one to bear all the blame in the end?

At a little past ten in the morning, a black Mercedes-Benz sedan slowly halted beside a strangely shaped building.

Before long, the bandit ship began trailing behind the escort vessel, drawing closer and closer until it was less than a li away. Although Wang Tianxu's divine sense was not yet strong enough to reach that distance, as the pirate ship closed in, it steadily entered the perimeter of his awareness.

Bai Xue tapped her toes lightly against a lotus leaf, rising like a vibrant rainbow powered by that infinitesimal force, and instantly landed upon the lid of the bronze demonic coffin.

He Weitao's expression instantly changed, and he anxiously cast a sideways glance at Xiao Yunachao's face. Sure enough, although Xiao Yunachao, who usually lacked deep political cunning, attempted to maintain his composure, the nearly spasmodic twitch of his expression betrayed his inner thoughts. Knowing things would come to this, why act as he did in the past? He Weitao sighed inwardly, casting his gaze elsewhere.

Julie had originally intended to ask Liu Shiyi which class he was in, but upon witnessing the foolish demeanor of these students, she gave up on the idea and decided to search for herself.

A door of light materialized out of thin air within Ao Tian's line of sight, behind which the faint outline of a gigantic palace loomed.

Who was Hua Wei? Her lover? Or the refuse she had once discarded? Hua Heng's memories were entirely chaotic. Another figure gradually surfaced within her consciousness—was it... Aqin? Hua Qin's face and posture refused to be dispelled from her awareness, as two sets of memories contended within her mind.

Hearing this, Han Shaomian half-closed his eyes, carefully scrutinizing Hai Chenxi, who remained composed throughout. Noting the other's arrogant attitude, and observing that while the army behind Hai Chenxi also had their longswords drawn, the majority had assumed defensive postures, he pondered further.

Instantly, a look of humiliation washed over Mo Sheng's face. For himself, a martial artist at the eighth stage of the Martial Ancestor realm, to be forced back by the mere aura of someone at the fourth stage—if word of this reached the inner court, how could he ever show his face again?

Clearly, proclaiming an imperial decree was a lucrative post with generous tips and immense prestige. People practically fought over the job of decree proclamation.

After weighing his options back and forth, Tuoba Lie finally suppressed his stomach ache and accepted Min Gui and his retinue of young aristocrats into his bridal procession.

"Does that mean we can go ashore now? I want to join the giants' banquet too!" Bacara cheered joyfully.

Tuoba Lie was startled and bewildered in equal measure. Make him vanish right now? Bring his former self back? How on earth was that supposed to work?

Only one thing was certain: Liu Xindie harbored feelings for this man. Tsk, tsk, tsk, oh my, Mo Qianhan was getting cuckolded more and more; first Mu Lianyi, and now Liu Xindie. As a man, he was a total failure.