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"Your father was not killed by me! Nor did I order the deaths of those in the An household!" Yan Qingyu’s eyes were wide with fury as he met her gaze, his voice ringing out with resonant, upright conviction.

Ye Xi paused for a fleeting moment, the reflection of Qiaoqiao’s smile lingering in her eyes. She reached out to pinch the girl’s soft, chubby cheeks, murmuring, "You’ve grown thin." As she spoke, she instinctively glanced at Rong Xigu, who stood opposite them.

"I am coming to pick you up." It was not a request for consent, but an unyielding statement of intent: *Wait right there, do not move.*

The driver navigated the car in silence. The cabin was so still that one could clearly hear the sound of tires rolling over the wet pavement, accompanied by the faint hiss of splashing water.

Upon entering the palace, Tian Ying’er was exceptionally bestowed the title of Noble Consort Xue, vaulting her into a position second only to the Empress.

Human streets are only bustling during grand festivals, but the Demon race possesses innate physical superiority—many commoners among them are more powerful than human experts—so their streets at night are as lively as they are by day.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity, the door finally creaked open before Meng Yuwan’s eyes. A face she knew all too well emerged. She narrowed her eyes, her fists clenched tight.

This was for the best. The aloe cream was indeed highly effective; she had tried a small amount, and her skin had become noticeably more refined. She did not feel that Gu Qingqian was trying to swindle her. Since Gu Qingqian would not gift it to her, she would simply provide it herself.

He reached out and embraced her, a suffocating aura of death instantly saturating the entire hillside, causing the vine to burst and wither into nothingness.

As for Jiang Nuo’s remark about "asking Wang Zhao for his thoughts," who the hell knew what she meant, or whether she might just ask some random question to brush him off?

A thunderous stampede, thick with the heavy scent of blood, surged toward the group who had only just recovered from their panic. Dust billowed, and the surroundings of Demon Valley seemed trapped within a transparent shroud. The vast valley was as silent as a graveyard, save for the echoing roar of the stampede and the savage, bestial cries that intertwined in the air.

Although it was improper for Qing Hong to call Yu Xiu’er "Grandmother," he had done so simply because it rolled off the tongue. Since she never corrected him, he continued to use the title.

The French Football Federation had even arranged an awards ceremony on-site; should Saint-Germain secure the victory, the league championship trophy would be presented to the team immediately.

Just as Qing Hong waited for his tea, the city guards finally snapped out of the stupor caused by his stunning appearance. Seeing him sitting in the teahouse, they frowned slightly, their eyes filled with a flicker of pity.

"Then what on earth is this? You must tell me!" Huangfu Xuanqing asked urgently.

The next day, before ten o'clock, Kuangren handed over all the herbs he had gathered in the 'Dragon's Forest' in one go.

The Tang Clan, already teetering on the brink of collapse, saw its millennia-old foundation crumble under the pressure of the Kunlun sect, only a few years after Tang Wanying had left home.

In truth, it was not just Mu Ling; Na Tie and the others were also suppressing peals of laughter. A moment ago, Mu Ling had been trailing her hands over the two men, leaving them burning with desire. Na Tie had not expected Mu Ling’s techniques to be so professional.

"What could be so urgent that it surpasses your second brother’s life and death? You’ve been waiting for me here this long; it wouldn't have killed you to wait a little longer. By the way, where are Ye Hencai and the others? Don’t tell me they went out," Ye Wutian said, his face chilling.

"How could anything happen to me? I told you not to waste your efforts. This bit of power you have is of no use against me!" the toad sneered.

In the end, it devolved into the saying that no matter how high a master’s martial arts, they still fear a kitchen knife. One self-proclaimed hero, who bragged about taking on ten men at once, ended up being clubbed to death by a single brick.

"Brother Shi, how do you intend to arrange the retrieval of the treasure this time?" asked Ling Yun, who had always been a man of few words.

However, Mu Zhan ate very little. Aside from the piece of bread Xue Gao had handed her, she touched nothing else. Xue Gao noticed her anomaly but could find no way to broach the subject.

"Hah!" An Ming replied noncommittally. Before Yin Yin could speak again, a scream rang out from outside. If she heard correctly, it sounded like the voices of Zhu Tong and the others.

They had come from the direction of the elevator and had not encountered Arthur; it could only mean he had taken the fire stairs.

Ever since her colleague discovered the secret, she had remained motionless in her chair, unable to pull her thoughts back to reality.

To the north of Mount Yuelong, a vast, dark mass of Liaoji cultivators sat atop various bizarre flying artifacts, arranged in perfect formation high in the sky, looking down upon the wide sea of yellow fog that enshrouded the mountain.

Regarding the group’s journey to Penglai Island, the old man did not say much, only telling them that those with the Yanhuang bloodline still had a chance, while the others should not hold their hopes too high. Some inheritances are strictly forbidden from being shared, and even if they were passed on, those without the Yanhuang bloodline would never be able to cultivate them.

It was a breathtaking sight, accompanied by a poisonous, obsessive longing that spread deep into the bottom of her heart—the pain was so piercingly clear.

The man’s legs were immobilized there, unable to move, so his upper body was curled almost entirely into itself.