Chapter 87: The Formation of the Extraordinary First-Class Demon Hunting Squad

The words of Ling Xiao, the High Priest of the Sacred Temple, and Ruoshui, the Vice Priest, successfully silenced the members of the other five great temples. None of them had expected such unity between the two.

Sanshui glanced at Ruoshui several more times, his eyes filled with suspicion.

“There’s no time like the present—let’s begin the roulette selection right now!” With this settled, the selection ritual continued.

“Bai Haochen, Cai’er, step forward. Are you willing to join Bai Nianxuan’s team?”

Unable to even force Lin Shuimu into his immortal mode before losing, Yan Liu’s defeat was clear, even if it was due to Shuimu’s ambush from the shadows. A loss is a loss—this flaw of Yan Liu’s was far too obvious. His close combat was formidable, yet he was easily kited and worn down.

“We haven’t seen each other in quite some time, have we?” The man’s gaze was burning, his exquisitely handsome face almost within reach.

“Fengfeng, you were wonderful today! Not a bit of carrot or green pepper left!” New Orleans beamed a sweet smile at Fengfeng.

The deeper they ventured into the valley, the more venomous insects and beasts appeared, each one more savage than the last. Multicolored poisonous mists swirled around them as they soared into the air, hurling themselves in dense swarms toward the twelve-petaled Sword Lotus.

Lin Yu frowned. It seemed the Supreme of North Cliff had been capturing countless geniuses and powerful beings from the boundless chaos, all to cultivate personal royal guards for his own clan.

“Husband, what’s going on?” Lady Yuan Shuang’s eyes filled with fear as she looked at the old black dragon of Lingqiu, disbelief written across her face.

Arriving at the airport early in the morning had its drawbacks: no matter how much you wanted to sleep, you’d still be cornered by reporters who’d been waiting there for hours, eager to ask questions.

Thirty minutes later, he entered an indoor training hall on the top floor of Furong Tower, a private arena reserved for the club’s major patrons. At this moment, Sister Spider and Master Wu Hengtong were already seated in silent anticipation.

During this time, Wang Luo and Yu Zhao had joined forces and successfully assassinated two of the attackers who, alongside the Moon Mother, had assaulted the Time Branch on the Divine War Plane. As a reward, the bank granted them two attribute point increases.

The scorching sun was directly overhead, its blazing rays beating down on everyone. Even with their considerable cultivation, the relentless heat was almost unbearable.

When he called out to me, I frowned and glanced around. There had been a few people when we first arrived, but now the place was deserted, the owner nowhere to be found, and not a soul on the streets. If he hadn’t called me, I might not have even noticed.

“I won’t. Why don’t you go in yourself?” Yu Zhao refused, unsure what special arrangement Wang Luo had in mind.

What frustrated him most was that the Earl had ordered preparations for a banquet to welcome a distinguished guest, but it seemed improper to have too many guards near the manor. Most had been dispatched to the town to keep order.

The Dark Ruins truly lived up to their reputation as a doomsday battlefield—a place fraught with danger, where even the slightest carelessness could be fatal.

Hearing this, Wen Xu wished he could slap himself. With a bitter expression, he said, “Think carefully—once you’re here, life and death are no longer my concern. There’s no way I’ll let those horse trainers and stable hands in, either.”

Yang Zilong nodded, leading me to the interrogation room. I entered, and Toad glanced at me with a smile. I sat across from him and smiled back.

“I know it’s hard to accept, but this is the truth!” Mingyue watched her anger, recalling that in her memory, Nan Zhao had never wavered, even at death’s door. Zhou Yang was indeed her greatest weakness.

“You bastard, you did that on purpose. Trying to take advantage of me? I’m not buying it.” Though he was drunk and muddled, his words came out clear enough.

Yang Bao’er seemed to have anticipated these consequences, yet she was still willing to go—her hatred for Qin Xue was genuine. How could Qin Xue have received Chu Bingsong’s love for so many years?

Watching this, the gentle brilliance that had filled his eyes only a moment before faded, as if the bright moon had been swallowed by dark clouds.