Chapter 102: Bone Sled (Bonus Chapter for Monthly Votes 1/5)

This time, I absolutely must not let him kill me again. That feeling was dreadful, and most importantly, White Wolf would be heartbroken, so it’s better not to die. Night Owl was never the sort of child to cry and wail when parted from his parents; he was raised with a free rein. Though Chiba had long known this day would come, hearing Ruor speak of it with her own lips still left him a little sorrowful. Shen Mubai, sensing she was about to complete her mission, couldn’t help but reach out and touch the man’s face—after all, it was almost time to say goodbye.

Every time, she struck just the right chord within him, making him yearn to bare his soul and spend a lifetime devoted to her. Rong Xi’s bewitching face remained elegant and serene; her incantations never ceased, and the thunder of approaching beasts echoed without pause. Freed from the knots of her heart, An Chenxi’s temper had softened; her voice was gentle again, and she had returned to the refined, handsome youth she once loved.

“Fu Zheng, I miss my sister a little. Can I go see her?” Ziyu thought, having slept so soundly—surely she could go out by now? The ever-present reminder hung over them, like a sword suspended overhead: the looming “Ten-Day Pact.”

Chiba looked up at the Jingci Nunnery, now clearly visible atop the mountain, and shook his head resolutely. The great white gate was firmly shut. Gao Yang stepped toward the stone platform. The reason he hadn’t followed Chen Zhihe’s advice to try crossing was simple—he knew he could never manage it as easily as Chen Zhihe. Why? Because this ruin belonged to the Chen family.

Qingfeng’s brow furrowed in displeasure. Hadn’t he hung a sign saying no cleaning required? Why, then, would someone enter his room so carelessly? At that moment, Daoist Baiyun’s aged eyes stared in utter disbelief at Zhang Xiaofeng, his face a canvas of confusion and incredulity.

During Liang Tingwei’s treatment, Liang Qianshan no longer blamed her brother, but instead turned her reproach inward and began to reflect on herself. Yan Ming gathered companions to spar with her, providing practical training and guidance, and then used pointed words to provoke Liang Qianshan, hoping she would vent her negative emotions through combat. He understood this well: the greater one’s sect and the higher one’s position, the more constraints one must bear.

He Hao could no longer be bothered with such concerns. He was already tiptoeing out of the hospital room, intent on seeking out the so-called Night Watchmen Squad.

Three centuries ago, Zhen Yuanzi could still put on airs before the Buddha himself; three centuries later, he could only humble himself and draw near of his own accord. Yet as the founding ancestor of the Earth Immortals, he could not stoop too low or act too obsequious.

After a pleasant dream, Ling’er slowly opened her eyes. The light was still dim, and she nestled closely in Brother Yang’s embrace. In the same cell as Gao Yang, the brawny man still had his back turned, absorbed in some mysterious task.

Chen Xuanzang said, “Wukong, this dream of mine is not born of homesickness. Just as I closed my eyes, a fierce wind arose, and outside the meditation hall appeared an emperor, claiming to be the king of Wujiguo. He was drenched and weeping…” Chen Xuanzang recounted every detail of his dream.

The armored spirit general, sword in one hand and shield in the other, unleashed his might once more, striking Xiao Lin so hard he coughed blood and collapsed.

The next day, the sun rose as always, the most diligent worker in the world—ever faithful to its post, giving light to the world, and exposing its ugliness along with its beauty.

A heavy sound rang out as cracks spread from where knee and palm met the ground. I lifted my cold gaze and swept it across the scene. A wild wind lashed through, forcing my eyes shut.

It’s said that among the legendary constables, Fan Xun stands above the law, with Nan Kongkong and Bei Yin Fan as his southern and northern counterparts, and a notorious flower thief yet at large. Iron Zhongqing was famed for his martial prowess and unerring pursuit of criminals. Fan Xun, styled Jingming, was an imperial appointee and renowned in the capital as Iron Xun Fan. People praised him, saying: “With Fan Xun, there are no thieves under heaven.” Had he lived a generation earlier, the White Lotus bandits would never have escaped him.

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a hard drag. Lord Lu Seven found the matter truly troublesome. He pondered several solutions, but none proved fruitful.

Standing firm, Feng Chui Xue spoke earnestly to the black-clad man before her. His answer came only as a stabbing blade. Sighing silently, she retreated swiftly, using the movement to deflect his assault, just as the enormous crab charged toward them, its massive pincers brandished.

Lu Shuangyang’s fist collided with the Earth Wall, unsurprisingly failing to break through.

Listening to elders’ scandals was always entertaining, but it inevitably brought them bad luck afterward. This wasn’t the first time. They went along with Yue Shanshan to her room, siblings in all but name.

Even Liang Xiao wondered if he was imagining things, for from the Second Young Master’s tone, he detected a trace of delight.

[Seed Introduction]: Moonflower seeds bloom under moonlight. Their petals come in white, red, purple, yellow, and more. When in full bloom, the petals seem dusted with fluorescent powder, and under the night sky, it feels as if one is walking through a sea of glowing light.

Nan Lie, seeing no chance to use his elbow, immediately switched from offense to defense, signaling for the others to clear out so he could take on Mitsui one-on-one. To be fair, Nan Lie’s skills were at the very top nationally, but he was confined by the so-called run-and-gun tactics.

Chu Lingyue watched the three, completely baffled by their behavior. She genuinely wished to help, and with her system’s power, she had the ability, yet it was clear they did not believe her.

But halfway through, List’s music abruptly changed—now it surged like a mighty wave crashing down from a towering cliff.

In the southern city of Wa, a focal point for American and Allied investment, continuous funding from several nations, combined with convenient transportation, beautiful scenery, and inexpensive labor, had turned it into an up-and-coming city to rival Victor.

On the snowy peaks of Zhengyang Mountain, master and servant admired the view from the corridor of an immortal’s mansion built on the cliffside.

Seeing that Ren Feng was not at odds with Peking University—in fact, the relationship was quite amicable—some students finally realized that the real issue was not between Ren Feng and the university, but rather with Teacher Ma Ji, who had enforced the order too harshly. Ren Feng’s post on Weibo made it clear: it was Ma Ji’s excessive approach that had caused the trouble.