Chapter 87: The Shortcomings of "Thunderstorm"

“So what do we do then?” Yang Tian spread his hands, making it clear he wanted her to take this seriously and not make any empty promises.

Qian Duoduo’s gaze also fell on Lin Xiu, signaling him not to push things too far or they’d have real trouble on their hands.

“I’ll get in touch with the police first. The rest of you, get moving.” Wang Jinteng, utterly shameless, quickly understood the situation and forked over five million without hesitation.

In short, don’t fall prey to the urge to imitate. Just because a famous master sets his mouse speed to five doesn’t mean you should too. Find what works for you through practice.

The men charging forward were all burly, armed, and posed a genuine threat to any ordinary person.

Leaping over thirty meters high and spanning a distance of more than twenty meters, he landed steadily atop a massive bronze pillar.

“Heh, after all these years, I can finally feel pain again!” The Lord laughed instead of showing anger. The holes in his arm were healing at a speed visible to the naked eye—flesh and bone mending alike.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t yet skilled enough to truly use it. The water rope merely restrained him without penetrating his body, so the Phoenix’s blood within him showed no reaction.

Training in this ancient city, inherited from ages past, seemed to yield far better results than in the outside world. A month’s cultivation here was as effective as two months beyond its walls. The guards and Fang Yu were all overjoyed, wishing they could remain here forever.

Though the younger generation of the Li family had never met Wang Zhexian, her name resounded like thunder in their ears. The elders of the Li family spoke of her only with awe.

After a night’s vigil at the foot of the hill, Yu Manli, Lei Qianqian, and Nasha noticed the change in Shen Hao and felt a sense of relief as they went to greet him.

She’d meant well, yet ended up being bitten back by those she helped. She regretted not having been braver and standing her ground with them.

“An’an, I’m sorry. Yaya didn’t mean it.” Mu Jinyu gave Su Ya a nudge, urging her to apologize to Su An’an.

But just now, Ye Zihao had deliberately suggested Du Laosan had inadvertently leaked information, weighing heavily on Du Laosan’s mind.

That call sounded entirely different from before—almost familiar to him.

“Maybe.” Tang Suiyi picked up where Long Tingchen left off, only to be silenced by his glare. She lowered her head obediently.

Chang Xing nodded. “The situation isn’t good. You need to be prepared—at any moment, a tide of spirit beasts might come. Before I leave, I’ll reinforce the formation, but I can’t guarantee it will hold against a full assault.”

“Make me something to eat.” Thinking of how Lu Yiyi had cooked up a feast for that scoundrel Zeng Shuyu, Yan Yan was irritated.

And she couldn’t quite figure out Sui Lie’s intentions today; their relationship seemed to have grown more ambiguous.

The brilliance of this cultivation technique was its versatility: whatever method or practice you pursued, the Wuji Technique could seamlessly connect with it.

Everyone in the business world knew Ou Zhexi as a cold-blooded killer. Wherever he went, chills followed.

The fishermen exchanged glances. What was that commotion? What could have caused such a thunderous noise in the mountains?

Though Karon’s left arm was injured, it was only a minor wound. Out of over a hundred and sixty battles, he’d only been hurt twice, and never before had he bled. Staring at his wound, a glint of bloodlust flashed in his eyes.

Suddenly, a deafening roar erupted behind Song Tao. Startled, he leapt up, hiding in the leafy branches of an ancient tree to observe in silence.

Sun Xue had been dealing with after-sales issues in the sales department, but hearing the commotion, she learned that Qin Ming was about to face a hundred opponents alone. Her heart was in turmoil—she didn’t even wait for the elevator but raced down the stairs.

Now that the Azure Dragon and Black Tortoise had appeared in Purple Moon Sky, the White Tiger and Vermilion Bird must exist as well! Otherwise, why would that mysterious voice call for the Four Symbols to be gathered? Yu Chen couldn’t help but smile faintly.

Zhao Wucheng and Jiang Liqian exchanged a wry smile—there was an unmistakable air of pity in those words.

The small, dimly lit room flickered with shadows. In its center sat a tall, heroic man, murmuring to himself, his gaze distant and unfocused.

Over twenty master cultivators paid no heed to those of the seventh or eighth level on the outskirts, instead collaborating closely and plotting every possible tactic for when the Hounds of the Nine Hells emerged. Even if all three hounds burst forth at once, they would leave no opening—swearing to annihilate every last one.

It sounded like something breaking, or perhaps the snapping of reason, or as if a long struggle had finally realized its own futility after ages of resistance.

Though Mo Bingwu was a princess, and Empress Yan Ling was the queen of Qi, it was not inappropriate for the Empress to attend Mo Bingwu’s funeral.

Even though Su Meiqing had left a deep impression on the judge, her appearance now was dramatically different.

But if you used the sixth guild in the China Region for training, who would you even be fighting when it came to actual combat?

The short, masked figure in black tried to twist away in midair, but Ye Feng’s kick sent him sprawling headfirst into the dirt.

The treasure hunt that stirred the thirty-six southeastern kingdoms ended in failure. Countless cultivators returned empty-handed, and many old monsters, seeing the game they’d been played, realized they’d merely been pawns.

A thin, membrane-like substance appeared before his palm, a faint glimmer passing so quickly it was almost imperceptible.

At dusk, under the slanting rays of the setting sun, the old man and the youth stood in the courtyard, their shadows stretching long as they pondered the news they had just received.

Chen Lindong and the other hidden cultivators of immortality—Zhang Long had yet to get the full story, so he kept silent on that front, planning to investigate after their trip to Bermuda and then inform Deng Jun.

As soon as Sisi got in the police car, she slumped weakly into the seat. Tian Xinhua pulled her close and kept patting her back. Feeling the warmth of his embrace, Sisi finally felt reassured, the chill within her heart fading away.

“Sigh, why are you always so stubborn?” The other experts present also looked at Lin Feng with obvious discomfort.