Chapter 83: Let's Wait Until You Get First Place in Science

At six fifteen in the evening, when the sky was ablaze with the brilliance of sunset, Chen Shian and Wen Zhixia met at the intersection.

A new week began with evening study.

Two hours earlier, when they last saw each other, both were still in their casual clothes; by now, both had changed into identical blue-and-white school uniforms.

Chen Shian always arrived a little earlier. As he stood at the crossroads, gazing toward the small alley, a girl in a blue-and-white uniform hurried toward him, backpack on her shoulders and a book bag in her hand.

The pace of destruction far outstripped any efforts at repair, especially when it came to roadbeds and bridges. Compared to the Bai-Jin Railway, which had fallen into almost complete disuse, the maintenance of earth roads was relatively simple. The Japanese army continually forced the residents along the highways to carry out hasty repairs, so these roads still saw intermittent use.

Who else but our very own General Qin Chuan could speak nonsense with such conviction?

Within the Witch Tribe, the Black Eagle Mask stood as a symbol of honor. Since their rise to fame, they had never once removed it.

At the headquarters of the Heavenly Origin Sect, the elders were no longer present to steady the situation. In the midst of crisis, Tan Long had fled back to the sect. Now, watching the sky fill with a dense, swarming army of the undead, he ordered the disciples to resist with all their might, then quietly slipped away himself.

It seemed that the distance between him and Tang Xiao was growing ever greater—so far, in fact, that one day she might never again glimpse Tang Xiao’s retreating figure.

"The monastery supervisor's words are unreasonable—smoke is a wandering thing; how could it possibly remain within the hall?" Monk Liaoyuan protested angrily.

One red, one blue—two opposing flows of energy surged into the circle, causing the perfect sphere to spin, forming a mysterious and unfathomable Taiji yin-yang diagram.

Caught off guard by the sudden attack, Li Ziyuan never expected Chang Juan’s grip to be so fierce; his face turned purple from the pressure of her hold. Fortunately, Chang Juan merely intended to teach him a lesson. Noticing the bandages on his shoulder, she remembered his injury and quickly released her grasp on his thigh.

"You muddy rascal, even when beating a dog, you must consider its master. If you frighten it too much, I will not forgive you!" Suddenly, a low, indistinct voice echoed all around, and from the clouds and mist burst forth countless golden-armored deities.

Upon returning to the Grand Preceptor’s residence, a round of smashing porcelain ensued. Only after Concubine Xue came with her attendants to console Nan Zhijin did her anger subside. "Mother, that wretch Nan Yunwan seduced Brother Han. Today, he wouldn’t even let me through the door."

Xue Linglong laughed softly, slipping her jade-like hand through Qin Jiuxuan’s arm, the very image of devoted affection.

The Old Yellow Immortal was competing with me—testing who had greater power, presence, and steadiness of heart. But for these things, there was nothing to fear from her.

As she spoke, she gestured to the lunchbox on the table. Song Jingyu glanced at her, replied, "As you wish," and went out, closing the door behind him. Just as Qin Jiaojiao was relieved that he had finally left, he unexpectedly returned.

Without interrupting Wang Li, Qin Jiaojiao let her talk on and on. Clutching her chopsticks until her knuckles whitened, she maintained a perfect smile, betraying nothing of her thoughts.

When affection turns into an obsession for possession, when it loses its original color, when a once-candid heart becomes clouded with suspicion, the wheels of fate begin their inexorable journey toward inevitable hardship.

This was a barren wasteland, riddled with deep, black fissures that spoke of devastation, shrouded in thin, gray mist—a landscape of desolation and deathly silence.

Outside the factory, workers who had been scattered about, chatting and smoking, all turned to look when they heard the news. Confirming it was indeed Guan Yue, they hurried over to her, surrounding her in a flurry of voices, each vying to share their own stories.

After Yin Yue stepped out of the room, Lin Ze remained in his previous posture. "Your pastries," he said, preparing to return the plate to her as she emerged.