Chapter 1171: Snow Emperor Bloodline

"Since the blame has been pinned on the Heartless Sect, why not simply wipe them out and leave no living witness to tell the tale?" Huo Huashen pondered, for who could have imagined that members of the Heartless Sect truly resided in the far north.

"How much influence does the Heartless Sect command in the far north? Are there any high-ranking members present, and what is the cultivation level of their most powerful cultivator?"

Huo Huashen inquired, identifying this as the crux of the matter. After several rounds of punitive expeditions by the Great Xia, both vice-sect masters had been captured, and the other high-ranking officials, if not entirely rounded up, were largely accounted for.

It was worth noting that upon his return to Old Gold City, he had already devoured and absorbed a vast ocean of energy at the center of the Pacific.

"Archers! Fire!" Kyle waved his broad hand, and a torrential downpour of arrows rained down upon the soldiers atop the city walls alongside the storm, claiming the lives of many in that lethal volley.

He stared curiously at the roll of paper in his hand; he had been immensely intrigued before by how this fellow smoked it, seemingly deriving a great deal of pleasure from the act.

Splat! Three tracks of bloody gashes ripped open across Ao Xingfeng's back, blooming into crimson blossoms of fresh blood. This was the very first wound Ao Xingfeng had sustained since the clash began.

This location was a narrow corridor flanked by towering buildings on either side, making it difficult to dodge or maneuver. Qin Kan's specialty in lightness skills was rendered useless, yet conversely, the environment favored hard-hitting, head-on techniques like the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms.

A precipitous, cliff-diving sort of growth was best deferred for as long as possible... especially now, as he resembled a grand antagonist more and more.

She only knew that Wang Zha seemed quite wealthy, but she possessed little concept of the actual figures involved.

A holy and pure radiance gradually emanated from Xiah's body, as a tempestuous barrier forged of wind elements enveloped her.

The man from the Fuma clan before his eyes had clearly utilized some manner of forbidden technique: the chakra within his body flared up abruptly.

A disciple of the Beggars' Gang shouted, "Mister Dongfang has arrived." Dongfang Han entered, bringing along Ma Erhua, with a retinue behind them bearing an abundance of gifts, his face adorned with a genial smile.

"Just where have I fallen short? Why do you always resist me so? Five years have passed—why is it still like this?" he asked, his voice steeped in an irrepressible sorrow.

His voice carried a touch of reassurance. Su Nian'an closed her eyes, one hand clutching her stomach while the other naturally wrapped around his waist. The sensation of abdominal pain grew hazy, replaced only by a profound sense of peace and a readiness to drift into sleep by his side.

Having now reached the absolute limit and bottleneck of their cultivation, yet holding no hope of a breakthrough, they naturally faced only two choices.

The southeastern district had descended into absolute chaos, a boiling pot of confusion. But who exactly was the one wielding the ladle? Was it Bing Ningxue? Was it Chen Hao? Or was it Xiong Batian and Mu Tianqi?

Chu Liangchen tilted her head in confusion. What was happening here? Why had the atmosphere suddenly turned so bizarre?

Looking at the child buried in her embrace, a profound tenderness filled Qin Susu's eyes. Yet, as if remembering something, she closed her eyes tightly. The next moment, when she opened them again, a magnificent, boundless brilliance shone within her gaze.

Zhang Yang looked at his own malevolent spirit and then at the wraiths of the Netherworld Valley. No matter how he looked at them, they did not seem to be of the same species. How could his own be so aesthetically pleasing?

Zuo Zhan kept his back turned, concealing his expression. After a moment, he silently shed his overcoat and tossed it aside with careless precision, landing it squarely over Dongli.

The man glared at him and remained silent, fearing that if he spoke another word, Du Yuesheng would manipulate him into revealing more intelligence.

Three days after Du Feng's return, Qiu Ming emerged from his secluded meditation. Throughout those three days, Du Feng had quietly focused on his breathing, and his body had largely recovered. Upon his emergence, Qiu Ming summoned Du Feng. Changing into a fresh set of robes, Du Feng repaired to his master's residence. Once granted permission, he stepped inside and beheld the master he had not seen for many days.

"Well, Master, you old fellow have been sitting there for quite a while now. Have you managed to recall anything?" Du Feng said with a grin, too lazy to straighten up, choosing instead to spin around a few times before leaning in close to his master.

Shi Le's campsite was already not far from Xuchang City. The great army struck camp and set out before noon, crossing the Wei River and reaching their destination before nightfall. The generals left behind to guard the rear, led by Diao Ying, Tao Bao, Zhi Xiong, and Zhang Bin, were all waiting outside the city gates in advance to welcome him.