Chapter 171: Roar, Facing the Thunder Directly!

He gazed at Li Changan, who stood not far off, watching the spectacle with cold indifference.

Lu Shang felt as though his heart were about to violently burst apart.

He desperately wanted to cry out, to voice his fury.

Yet the onslaught of the cultivators fell upon him like a relentless tide, leaving him no choice but to frantically evade with every ounce of his strength.

Just as the seven men hemmed him in completely, on the very precipice of capture, Li Changan—who until now had merely enjoyed the theater—finally made his move.

Whish, whish...

"What are your names?" Yao Xinyue inquired, realizing it would hardly do to address them as "hey you" later on.

"You actually deleted the professor's phone number?" The girl who had led the greeting to the master's wife stared in wide-eyed astonishment.

The cost of Lotus White was truly of little consequence; the market was awash with spirits far inferior in quality that fetched much higher prices.

Voice after voice echoed from within the yawning fissure, and figure after figure materialized from the darkness of the rift.

His wounds were mending beautifully, the bruises on his face nearly vanished, so that even the simplest gesture he made seemed charged with an inadvertent flirtation.

He was saving a life, not courting women, so there was no question of double-dealing; thus, Huang Zheng replied with an utterly blameless conscience.

"Zhun Ya, I challenge you! I refuse to believe that with my eighth-layer profound spirit cultivation, I cannot best you!" Cornered and left with no recourse, Liu Neng pointed fiercely at Zhun Ya's nose once more, shouting out, though remembering Zhun Ya's earlier words, he hesitated for a moment and lowered his hand.

It happened that Mr. Amakasu Touma had informed him that the newly ascended king was but a sixteen-year-old youth, currently engaged in challenging the Martial Arts King.

Aching with pity for his flying sword, the true qi within his dantian surged forth like water, consuming a full tenth of his reserve before he finally managed to withstand that colossal force.

As a Great Grandmaster of Huaxia and a cultivator at the pinnacle of the Golden Core stage, Han Zhenpeng had long stood at the absolute zenith of the world's martial might, possessing scarce a rival at home or abroad.

Xu Zhiyuan lifted his head, meeting Wang Han's gaze with defiance. "Yamato," he uttered, a cold smirk playing upon his lips as if savoring a triumph.

One could only wonder who had granted him such audacity, yet Chairman Li appeared entirely disinclined to afford him any regard.

Living such a splendid life, bound to so exceptional a man, and blessed with a rather wonderful mother-in-law.

Swathed in her heavy coat a moment before, Su Yun had not noticed, but now she realized that the pink dress lent her an air of radiant youth and innocence, imbued with a soft, delicate grace.

A shadow of worry crossed Jueling's mind, fearing some flaw might expose the deception; after a moment's calculation, he let loose a cold, stern reprimand.

Ou Yu summoned repeatedly through the communication device, yet received nothing but silence, a look of anxious fury gradually clouding his features.

Taking in the entire scene, Su Zijun's brow furrowed even deeper; for reasons unknown, the unease in his heart grew only more suffocating with the passage of time.

Such was the formidable power of love, capable of compelling her to embrace the very things she once disliked, all for the sake of her other half.

With that, the tournament on the martial stage was declared at an end. Si Qingyan emerged as the premier warrior of the Kingdom of Xia, followed in turn by Ouyang Haotian in second, and Murong Tianyu in third.

The Calico Cat reached out to hail a taxi, watching Xu Weimin depart before stepping into his own cab; once inside, he glanced at her name card and discovered she was actually a car model.

Their deliberations concluded, the Xianbei chieftains launched a night assault on Wuquan with their army of eighty thousand, without pausing for even a moment's rest.

If they failed to sink the mysterious adversary while there was only a single vessel, they would lose even the ghost of a chance at victory once the enemy submarines multiplied.

Upon meeting Roddy, the Arch-Prelate showed neither warmth nor disdain, maintaining a haughty reserve as he questioned Steward John beside him.

Most critical of all was the Yuan army's dire lack of provisions; if they could not retreat into the next fortress swiftly, the remaining tens of thousands of troops would inevitably disintegrate.

Stepping out, he was instantly met by a soft warmth of a thoroughly comforting temperature, which suddenly manifested before him, causing him to crash blindly into its embrace.