Chapter 1128: Zhu Tian's Progress

"Oh, thank you, thank you."

The two monarchs accepted the small stools, feeling a distinct sense of being overwhelmed by an unexpected favor; with so many people present, they alone enjoyed the privilege of sitting.

Seated upon the low stools, they fidgeted with an uneasy restlessness.

"Would you like some water?" asked Yun Mengmeng, the Minister of Rites, her voice laced with genuine concern, performing her duties with impeccable grace and flawless courtesy.

"N-no, thank you?" Zhu Tian stammered, uncertain of what he ought to say, for this was after all the leader of that legendary Heavenly Court Sect—

A sudden, violent jolt of panic struck Lin Ying; this time, it seemed he had played his hand far too grandly... As his voice trailed off, he dropped to his knees without a moment's hesitation, the words spilling from his lips.

Wang Xi scratched the edge of his eyebrow with his index finger; the bastard had brought all his luggage along, clearly determined to overstay his welcome.

"You extras over there, are you ready? If so, change into your costumes, we are about to shoot," Fu Yan called out, waving to the four boy band members who were huddled together, speculating about his mysterious background.

She trusted and understood her sister; if something truly catastrophic had transpired, her face would never bear such an expression.

Lin Ying felt as though his mind were a tangled ball of twine! Was the mother standing before him real or an illusion? How could she possibly know everything about him? Had his parents truly pursued him into this place?

Li Si's brow furrowed, a look of profound astonishment gleaming in his eyes; at this moment, he found himself utterly appalled, never expecting that such an event would unfold—it had far surpassed the boundaries of their wildest imagination.

"Hmph, so they resort to robbing their own grandson; the consciences of those clan members have utterly gone to the dogs! Oh, I forgot, they never had any conscience to begin with!" Lin Chuanzhi spat out venomously.

Li Si was filled with striking amazement once more, never imagining that things would turn out this way; it truly defied belief, and an influence of such magnitude was far beyond anything he could have envisioned.

Hearing these words, Yin Ling was consumed by an infinite, gnawing guilt; she instantly veered off course, plunging her precious sword deep into the adjacent stone wall.

Bai Qianhui propped the unconscious Yin Ling against the base of a tree, then turned his head to cast a fleeting glance back at Chen Zhi.

Though an aura of bloodline power as formidable as its own had manifested during the interval, the other party seemed to have no intention of joining this particular battlefield; thus it remained indifferent, merely doing its best to avoid that section of the grandstand—demons were chaotic, not foolish, and they possessed a mind of their own, inherently driven to seek advantage and avoid harm.

This man, named Ji Xiang, was a rogue cultivator whose formidable reputation was scarcely inferior to that of the disciples from the seven great sects; for reasons unknown, he had been hunted down by a suppression squad led by Dongfang He, escaping their encirclement only by virtue of a supreme life-saving technique.

A sudden realization dawned upon Qin Yang; at the time, he had arrogantly believed his own elemental mastery to be superlative, unaware that it was entirely due to Ruobing's covert assistance.

"I take it you are the manager here? How can you be so certain that it was the two of them who stole the items?" Chen Yi demanded directly, seeing the fat man falter.

Yet looking at the script now, even knowing the screenwriter had no malicious intent, the sudden sight of that particular line sent an abrupt, shivering wave of goosebumps rippling across Zhang Yingxia's skin.

Consequently, after shielding Wen Rushui behind his own form, Chen Yi calmly faced the several ghost soldiers charging toward him; then, with a sharp *whoosh*, he vanished entirely from the sight of the crowd.

His deepest fear was that once he slipped into his competitive gaming state, he would completely lose sight of the audience's perspective—a common pitfall for any professional player transitioning to a live stream.

Zhang Yingxia trapped the ball with one foot and delivered what he fancied to be a dashing, powerful volley; the ball rose barely two meters into the air before dropping with a pathetic thud and rolling away, a thoroughly embarrassing display. The boys on the opposite side paid it no mind; seeing the ball return, they offered a cheerful "Thanks!", turned around, and kicked off anew.

The fragile bubbles, which would normally burst at the slightest touch, seemed to instantly harden from illusion into reality the moment they met Mo Qi's magical hands, transforming into crystal spheres that shifted into a thousand dazzling shapes, leaving the spectators utterly mesmerized.