Volume One, Chapter 43: The Route

While the heavily armored soldiers and the warriors of the Jin clan fought in a bloody struggle, Kim Ji-il and Kim Ji-eun simultaneously attacked Gang Hanzan from the left and right.

“We really have a stomachache…” they clamored over one another, entirely ignoring Zhang Lianlan’s cudgel.

Li Qinghe’s performance was equally impressive. It conjured countless large hands out of dim energy, gathered the scattered tiles, and before long, the rooftop was restored to its original state. It reached out, drew the shadowy hands back, condensed them into a black dot, and swallowed it.

Witnessing a martial arts master hidden among the Wanyan tribe, Shi Xian hastily signaled. Nine warriors rushed forward from each of his flanks.

But to forcefully launch an attack would be tremendously difficult, requiring at least several times the casualties before success could be hoped for.

In truth, Lü Xuan had held something back. The Soul-Locking Heart-Forging Art could make one forget all of the past, but there was a deeper layer—implantation. He could, according to his will, instill his own thoughts, turning others to his own use.

This time, the snowman’s color changed again, shifting from its original crimson-violet to a tawny yellow.

Led by Zhang Zhihao, Liang Shan and his companions ascended to the third floor and stopped before a grand doorway. The door stood slightly ajar; unlike ordinary doors, it was three meters high, crafted entirely from redwood, exuding a sense of solidity and awe.

Before the words had faded, Wu Gema suddenly drew his long blade. As the blade danced, it became a torrent of steel, cascading toward Bian Pu, the master of Jade Wall Manor.

A sweet smile graced her beautiful features, but upon closer inspection, a subtle, ruthless glint lurked within.

The best example is the present-day Wokoku. When facing other nations, Wokoku is exceedingly arrogant, but before America—who once made them taste two atomic bombs—they are as docile as a grandson before a stern elder. Such is the effect of America’s unrivaled global might.

“Yes!” The army thundered in response, like a peal of thunder on flat ground. Emperor Zhongyuan’s face went instantly pale; he turned to see several dozen men suddenly emerge from the sea of soldiers, all clad in black robes and armor, the attire of elite guards. Without waiting for orders, they strode up the stone steps from both sides.

“I didn’t mean you, I meant her.” The long-eared old man gazed at Liuli, his eyes blazing with fire and divine light, making him appear most extraordinary.

The old general sighed, leaning into his chair, a trace of guilt flickering over his weathered face.

“Where is the ennobled lord?” Zhang Xianzhi entered the parlor, scanning the room, but saw no sign of Zhang Lu. The servants, too, wore blank expressions, having no idea where Zhang Lu had gone.

Normally, after entering the elevator, the two would descend automatically to the first floor, then head to the parking lot.

Without Qin Su, the Qin family would still be mired in chaos today; how could there be such vitality and renewal?

Though it was the truth, scholars and gentlemen regarded this as a plague, refusing to be tainted and holding little hope for its success.

When the seventh-tier zombie perished, the pressure that once held sway disappeared, and the zombies confined to the school and other places spilled out, wandering aimlessly. Few high-level zombies remained; at most, there were some of the third tier, and even those were rare. Everything reverted to the apocalyptic norm.

To resist this force, he gritted his teeth, straining every muscle in his neck. Yet the power was so overwhelming that, locked in this contest of horizontal acceleration, he could feel his cervical vertebrae crackling under the strain.

After circling silently in the void, it entwined itself around the colossal sword formed of sword intent.

Among those present, there were at least one or two hundred sects, including a number of truly top-tier sacred lands. Some, like the Morning Sun Sect, were exceedingly powerful but possessed no genuine sacred weapons.

“Crying my heart out, devastated, can’t go on, Brother Ling, my heart is shattered…” Da Weiwu could tell Su Ling was not joking in the slightest, and for a moment, he was utterly bereft of tears.

Beside him stood two jade-like figures, one of whom was none other than Princess Liuguang.

Blood trickled continuously from the corners of Su Wang’s mouth; his arms trembled violently with pain, veins bulging, and a dense web of blood vessels spread across his forearms like a spider’s web, blood oozing from countless tiny wounds.

Xue Aohai, Lu Changxu, Xu Yuan, and the other onlookers, as well as the many cultivators in the distance, gazed up at the celestial phenomenon. The starlight was so dazzling they could not look directly at Su Wang, and all were inwardly astounded, each with their own thoughts.

Su Ying had not yet reached an even more terrifying realm. It was said that some supreme beings, in a single rage, could summon a blood rain over a thousand miles, the rivers running red—an unimaginable might.

Though she was reluctant to pursue the matter, she still felt an attachment to the Black Eagle Special Forces, regarding them as her former home, almost like her alma mater.

Now, with the appearance of this Earth-Stabilizing Stele—one representing heaven, one representing earth—could there be some connection between the two?

Du Yu lived next door to Chu Bingyue. The soundproofing wasn’t great, and Du Yu’s hearing had grown sharper. Thus, he could hear every word of Chu Bingyue’s phone conversation, start to finish.

David still stood at the door, one eye pressed to the crack, peering outside. Ye Li really couldn’t figure out what he might be seeing in the grand hall from that angle, but she couldn’t help going over, intending to pull him away, or at least cover his eyes.