Chapter 141: Betrayal, the Immortal Cultivator's Backhand!

Slaughtering a multitude of evil spirits.

Whether a mere trick of the senses or truth, Li Chang'an felt his inner strength hone to a slightly sharper edge.

Yet, this was a critical juncture.

There was no time for him to linger and savor the sensation.

Following the trail of footprints into the Third Ridge, they found themselves enveloped by dense fog and a deathly stillness, where only their synchronized breathing broke the silence.

They walked for an untold distance.

Li Chang'an and Leng Yanran discovered the heavy mist before them

Zhuge Liang shifted direction with such abruptness that it caught everyone off guard, leaving even Sun Quan momentarily stunned.

It was a matter of common knowledge that an ocean of difference separated a half-step Martial God from a first-leaf Martial Emperor, the chasm between them near infinite.

This retreat seemed to strike Feng Yun as a profound humiliation; fueled by rage, he pointed a trembling finger at Lin Xuan and bellowed.

Awkward as it was, she had grown accustomed to her leader regarding her with such an intense gaze, and she knew perfectly well that at this moment, she must either make him laugh or remain utterly silent, lest he punish her for boarding the vessel without leave.

Among the human race, the most renowned sages were the likes of Fu Zi, Mo Zi, Zhuang Zi, and Guiguzi; yet they were either guarding the Lands of Origin or wandering the four corners of the earth, entirely beyond anyone's reach.

This time, Lin Qingjian had traveled to City B in search of her fiancé, Ye Wang, intending to invite him and his parents to the Lin estate to finalize the wedding date; Zhou Shaohang, a steward of the Lin family's collateral branch, had accompanied her.

Ye Changqing shouted fiercely as a crescent-shaped blade manifested in his grip; with a downward slash, it seemed as though the stars and moon marched alongside it, unleashing a terrifying power characteristic of a warrior at the fourteenth layer of the Houtian realm, hovering on the absolute precipice of its peak.

The abrupt assault startled the Grand Elder, forcing him to check his advance, yet before he could orchestrate a counteroffensive, the humanoid puppet lunged directly before him.

Even though the tone was balanced and entirely devoid of pressure, the staggering disparity in status and might still struck an involuntary chord of dread in the hearts of those listening.

Just as anticipated, the formation array offered at the market square was purchased the very next day; when men from the mountain villa attempted to shadow the buyer to uncover their dwelling, they lost the trail midway, evidently outmaneuvered by an adversary who had sensed their presence.

Not everyone possessed the fortitude to look upon the bare truth, especially when it concerned a dream of the martial underworld into which they had poured years of passion.

Upon hearing Yang Jian's words, the members of the Feng clan stood frozen, staring at him with expressions of sheer disbelief, while Feng Huowu's countenance shifted from profound shock to one of deep affection.

The two hundred heavily armored soldiers of the guard battalion were dispersed by company, led away by Ding Yi's personal retainers to settle into the estate.

The hexagonal, gem-like structure upon the brow of Uchiha Madara's Susanoo was instantly cleaved open, fracturing apart as the titanic manifestation began to dissolve entirely.

"Very well, they truly prefer to judge matters with the mind of a merchant... I only hope His Majesty the King can comprehend our position," the Marquis of Santa Cruz murmured, finally nodding after a moment of careful deliberation.

Before the words could fully fade, a sanguine radiance erupted from the depths of the earth like a geyser, its crimson light ensnaring every soldier of the Great Zhou empire.

Those who sat upon the imperial throne were plagued by particular taboos; during Zhu Yuanzhang's reign, for instance, local officials who submitted congratulatory memorials containing homophones for 'monk' or words implying a shaven head were executed without rhyme or reason, perceived as mocking the emperor's monastic past.

The Senate elections and the presidential transition of this year brought a wave of fresh faces to the membership of the National Security Council.

Yet, to the naked eye, it was glaringly evident that the rift in time and space warped violently the very instant the colossal cannon crossed its threshold.