Chapter 78: Speculating About the Situation in the Air-raid Shelter

They wished for us to join forces against them, so they temporarily borrowed our bodies. For some reason, they did not choose mine.

Along the wall, two tea tables were arranged in a row; one held a wine opener, napkins, and dining cutlery.

Bai grew up slowly, and from a certain perspective, Jing Qingran and the emperor could be said to have engaged in a battle of wits with him.

In truth, not only Fang Xuanling, who favored the arts of numbers, strategy, and management; Du Ruhui and Li Er, who chose the arts of intrigue and the teachings of Sun Wu; and Wei Zheng, who turned to philosophy—all these men found themselves gradually lost in their hearts.

At some unknown moment, someone habitually turned their head to scan the surroundings and unexpectedly caught sight of Lin Yunyi looking so wretched. They whispered to those nearby, who in turn passed it along, and so it spread. Soon, a crowd of people discreetly turned their heads to look at him.

“If you have something to say, say it. If not, get out.” He nearly ground his teeth as he spoke, his gaze fixed upon his counterpart.

The comment feed erupted once more, strings of laughter flooding in. The moderators controlled the chaos; aside from Zhu Hui, there were a few top fans, all posting announcements in accordance with Gu Shiyi’s wishes.

The image of that mischievous, ambiguous face appeared before her; she hesitated, worried other matters might arise.

Yang Chao felt a twinge of disappointment, but seeing Ouyang Dan link arms with Li Yao, he suddenly understood.

Those present, upon hearing the name "Lin Yunyi," their faces changed dramatically. Instantly, they stared back at the mountain path, locking their eyes on the icy sword. The longer they gazed, the more it felt like falling into a frozen abyss, unable to suppress their shivering.

“Brother Xiao, do you have any way to find another supreme yang artifact?” Pan Changlin’s eyes lit up, hurriedly asking.

Tong Lingyun was about to urge further, but suddenly, the oppressive force within the cave surged towards her, enveloping her tightly. With her cultivation only at the early stage of forming spirit consciousness, how could she withstand the pressure of a master of divine communication? What’s more, Mei Duxiu was no ordinary master, but one who had reached perfection in the divine arts!

Entering the living room, Leng Zi Mo casually walked to the sofa by the window and sat down, pretending to adjust his shoelaces, though his gaze remained fixed on the outside.

A storm had passed, and the exhausted yet content Yuan Lili lay asleep in Lin Feng’s arms. It was the best night’s sleep she’d had in many days.

Su Yao and Lu Dongting’s unusual appearance, one after the other, made certain busybodies sense something out of the ordinary.

Mu Yang got up and dressed in an inner garment, and Li Yue did the same, donning a thin inner layer. Considerately, Mu Yang took the cloak from the screen and draped it over Li Yue’s shoulders.

“You shameless thing.” Yu Manli spat out those words, her cheeks flushed; it seemed just like a couple exchanging playful insults.

A few colleagues finally couldn’t hold back, bowing their heads and covering their mouths to stifle laughter. Lin Xi suddenly felt like a hero, unable to hide her pride.

“Do you like sneaking around all the time?” Lu Dongting rested one hand on the steering wheel and the other casually on the window. Su Yao’s question seemed hardly a problem to him.

Taoist wanderers have followed their traditions for ages, with frequent exchanges even between the Zhengyi and Quanzhen sects. A set of rules had long been established. To prevent impostors claiming Taoist heritage, questioning one’s background became a necessary procedure.

The Lingnan region lies east of Central City, with Longyan City as a tourist destination, and in the western suburbs, the mountain forests conceal the secret realm of the woodland spirits.

Here, Jiang Shang pleaded with his fellow Taoist brothers, begging them to pity his own lack of talent, the suffering of the people, and the soldiers caught between fire and water, daring to ask that another respected brother step forward to uphold justice.

“Chen Zhiheng, stop right now!” Guan Xuelan called out, her voice tender but urgent. Yet it was already too late to intervene.

According to the Sutra of King Ksitigarbha, the soul is the foundation of the seven spirits; the spirits are branches and leaves of the soul. Without the soul, the spirits cannot be born; without the spirits, the soul cannot flourish.

After hearing Professor Chen’s explanation, Wang Kaixuan was already impatient, nudging Hu Bayi beside him to signal.

Five clan chiefs had gathered here, seated around a circular table, their expressions solemn and the room’s atmosphere rendered heavy by their gravity.

They suspected it might be a newly developed weapon by Ming. Uncertain whether reinforcements would arrive, they could only fight and retreat, struggling to finally shake off their pursuers.

Finding a place to sit, Su Yang appeared nonchalant, though Yang Yue and Yang Qing were somewhat uneasy, aware that all eyes were upon them.

Especially now, with the Azmo family and the Honggu family locked in confrontation, even when all this was over, he doubted such a proposal would ever arise again.

After passing the emperor’s throne to Hua Fengmo, Su He gradually withdrew from politics, seldom appearing in public.

Zi Ning shouted, kicking Helena away, shooting a glance toward a distant location, then falling backward into the lake.

Zhan Xintang was her nephew; though they could not be together, for them, Zhan Xintang remained the closest of kin.

In the clouds above, Song Ziwu deliberately made things difficult. Partly due to his own motives, but also to give himself and his companions a chance to rehearse. Yet that man’s raised eyelids were far too convincing; not only did he fail to warn them to prepare, but his tactics were all underhanded.

Within the nightmare, the demon blade pierced the crow’s heart; the shadow cackled madly, gripping the hilt with his right hand, driving the blade deep into the crow’s chest, then dissolving into black smoke that followed the blade into the crow’s body.

He suddenly seemed to lose all strength, the iron spoon in his palm feeling impossibly heavy, slipping uncontrollably to the floor.