Chapter 35: Sister Mianmian, haven't you seen enough?

Luo Yunmian returned to Building 3 of Deepwater Bay Villa, exhausted after a grueling day of work.

Her spirits instantly lifted when she spotted two figures by the elevator.

A man leaned lazily against the wall beside the elevator door, a cigarette dangling carelessly from his lips, one hand tucked casually into his pocket. A woman stood with her back to Luo Yunmian, her features obscured.

Fu Yanchi lifted his gaze toward the pillar where she stood, and Luo Yunmian happened to...

That made a certain amount of sense. Yu Xia closed her eyes again, beginning to examine the abnormalities within herself.

Of course, one had to acknowledge the Emperor’s contribution. Without the combined strength of the entire nation, it would have been impossible to gather so many medicinal herbs, exotic flames, top-tier alchemists and physicians, and a vast number of expert protectors.

Chang'an simply grabbed her snacks and climbed into bed to eat while logging into Li Chang'an’s Weibo. She skimmed through the feed; it was filled with malicious vitriol, barely a single kind word to be found.

The four Demon Spirit Envoys, their spiritual power fully unleashed, surged forward in an instant toward the terrifyingly aura-clad elder in the black robe hovering in the sky. With a gentle wave of the elder’s hand, a wall of black and white lightning materialized, blocking the four of them outside.

Yu Xia, however, remained unruffled. Seeing the yellow paper sword flying toward her, she raised her right hand languidly to intercept it. The sword seemed to be caught in a vacuum, freezing in place instantly.

Guan Jun frowned. How could it be fine? They had provoked a Golden Core cultivator—a presence that could, without exaggeration, kill them in a heartbeat.

The assault did not stop there. Ye Mo delivered a kick, sending the Ghost Flood Dragon King flying like a ball. Before it could travel far, Ye Mo broke the sound barrier, catching up to deliver another kick, treating the creature like a plaything.

There were now two primary sources of spiritual energy: the energy generated within the Binary Sun star system over the past year, and the energy diverted from the World Gate through the river-damming project, utilizing star cores and various techniques of the Quasi-Saints.

"I’m not looking; I have more important things to do." She pinched Fuyao’s cheek and turned to leave.

There was a strange suction force within the stone sarcophagus; one might be pulled inside the moment it was opened, never to emerge again.

Even a super-power like the one in Tianwu City of the Tianwu Realm could not claim absolute confidence in standing forever. Thus, they had to maintain a sense of vigilance; in such a place, it made retreating much easier.

Feng Yihan’s eyes turned cold. His figure suddenly froze, the icy chill on his body spreading in all directions.

Seeing his pursuer closing in for the kill, the man seemed to reach a decision, unstringing a set of prayer beads from his neck. As he turned, the moonlight illuminated him. Though his face remained indistinct, the gleaming bald head in the moonlight was unmistakable. Needless to say, the man was a monk.

"Is it just us? If so, we can set off now," Liao Xiao said, glancing around to consult the others.

Upon hearing this, Bian Chang immediately realized what was happening. He whipped out a bone and rushed out, only to see that one of Ye Tianyi’s feet had been severed from his leg. A ghost in a security guard uniform was still tearing at his thigh, leaving the ground splattered with shocking, blood-red stains.

"Protect the Prince!" a eunuch nearby shrieked at the top of his lungs, and the cavalry from both front and rear closed in, vowing to defend the Prince with their lives.

The Jueshan Dense Forest, the buffer zone between the Qian Dynasty and the Ling Dynasty, served as a natural barrier for the Qian due to its thick woods and poisonous mists. It had not only allowed the Qian to endure for three hundred years but now offered them a glimmer of hope to reclaim the Central Plains.

The others approached in awe. Upon seeing Bu Qianhuai’s face, they immediately bowed; after all, his portrait was kept alongside those of the high-ranking Prefects within the Pursuit Division, so it was impossible to mistake him.

Yet, could such an heaven-defying cultivation technique, which served as his greatest trump card in battle, really be left unused? Would that not be a waste of a divine gift?