Chapter 29: My Uncle is Chen Wei

An Tao did not truly believe that the frail Ye Siran could be of any help, yet he desperately longed for someone to assist him, which led him to let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"We were brought together from all corners of the land by fate. When you receive packages from home and share them with everyone, that is called sharing through thick and thin. Isn't it a bit poor form to talk about them behind their backs like this?" the bespectacled educated youth said indignantly. Seeing An Tao laughing along with Xiao Zhiyu and the others, he found their laughter grating to his ears. Although he, too, was from the city...

As those sword formations touched Jiang Wei's body, they erupted in a crackling, clattering sound.

Hearing this, the dozen or so Fire Demons cast apprehensive glances at the Lord of Asura in mid-air, appearing vaguely fearful.

However, one thing was certain: once a person was injected with this drug, their mind would be clouded and they would fall under the control of others.

Yet, he had not expected that this youth, who was at most at the third level of the Spirit River Realm, would actually possess such a thing.

"Is there anything in it for me?" Mo Qiang raised an eyebrow. If it were anyone else facing the imposing aura of the Crab Nebula, they would surely be trembling in their boots—such a colossal entity, whose mere breath could stir up a cosmic storm. But Mo Qiang was not anyone else; he was actually asking the Crab Nebula for a favor.

The next moment, a multitude of people surged toward the stage. Everyone pressed against the edge, their eyes fixed intently on Zhang Fan’s body, which was struggling to hold itself up.

"What is your primary spirit? Is it a virus, a finger, or a lightning spirit?" Akagi only then noticed Mo Qiang's pitch-black hands, but then he shook his head. He had seen the tumor-like body of Fu Zhongtian; it merely strengthened the physique and was still far from being able to cause space to collapse.

Gennaro’s heart was in violent turmoil. Although he hadn't fully grasped exactly what had happened just now, he understood that in this duel between the two sides' aces, Tolisso had been completely defeated by Li Liang.

Mo Qiang’s divine sense was infused with an imperial dominance that the ancestor of the Huang family could not compare to. Even though Mo Qiang was not an L-level spirit controller, his domineering divine sense could crush any mental fluctuations, fully revealing the tyranny inherent in an imperial heart and a hegemon among men.

In the center of the hall hung a painting, "Autumn Forest in the Mountains" by Dong Qichang, along with a pair of couplets that read: "Rain passes, the forest mist clears the scent of stone; autumn carries the mountain's emerald into the poet's heart."

I was just about to step forward to take a look when Mi Lan returned from the restroom, leaving me no choice but to retreat to my previous spot and pretend that nothing had happened.

Watching him through the mirror as he focused on his task, Yang Jinxin felt her eyes sting painfully; a stifling sensation burned in her chest, leaving her with a dull, aching throb.

"Island Master, please rest assured, Yan Jian cannot escape this time," Duanmu Quan glared angrily at Yan Jian before stepping forward.

"Yun He!" Tang Zixi cried out, watching in terror as Yun He lay at the feet of the Holy Emperor while she was sent reeling backward.

Furthermore, although Qiao Chen felt conflicted about Qiao Jin due to his own circumstances, deep down, he did not want his brother to die.

Shani Hada pondered for a moment, then shook his head and said, "It is too late! Although I moved my tribe from south of Cangshan to the northern foothills before coming here, and the main force of the Kates might not find us for a week or two, by the time we reach the Kates tribe, our own will be in danger! Order the retreat!"

Even the greatest physician could not completely heal Yun He’s shattered sea of qi in just a few days. Moreover, the fact that Yun He’s sea of qi remained intact was thanks to a strange fruit he had consumed.

They traveled for several more days. The weather grew increasingly cold, and the roads, covered in snow, became slicker and more treacherous. The people and horses were manageable, but the caravan struggled to move, stalled and unable to cover any distance.

At seven in the evening, the fat man and I sat at a noisy roadside food stall. We ordered a few simple appetizers to go with our drinks and started drinking. It was clear that the fat man’s spirits were not as good as they used to be; truly, love can sometimes be more painful than cancer.