Chapter 72: The Female Bootlicker

Though she talked a good game, when Lin Qingqi actually made the call, her heart was filled with anxiety—if Lu Fei refused to answer, she’d be left in an awkward position. Bracing herself, she dialed his number.

Ring after ring echoed in her ears as time slipped by, her heart pounding wildly. Lin Qingqi had been pampered all her life—Lu Fei was the first man ever to reject her, and the affront stung deeply.

...

“I think it’s some Chinese produce base—can’t remember the exact name, but his farm is inside the base,” Wang Dashan replied vaguely; he’d only seen the sign once, and truly couldn’t recall.

“Leopard, since you’re here, I’ll leave this to you,” the waiter said upon seeing the newcomer, promptly stepping aside.

With great effort, he rolled the demon over, moved aside a massive stone, and propped up the creature’s head, exposing its thick neck.

This development left no doubt that the Snake Demon was the prime suspect. Yet I couldn’t fathom why the Snake Demon would unleash Jiuying; he clearly knew Jiuying’s true identity and must also be aware of the endless grievances between Jiuying and his father—not to mention the fact that they were rivals in love.

The elite bodyguards, hired from the top security company in Hong Kong, collapsed instantly, unable to even slow me down.

It was bad enough that Jiujiu was sobbing uncontrollably; now Uncle Xing was being strung up and flogged.

Nearly five minutes later, more than ten business vans swept onto the street like a menacing serpent, exuding a powerful and domineering presence.

After that, he pressed the bouquet against the mural. In the next instant, I seemed to see minute flecks of dust-like particles, as if seeping through the painting and vanishing within.

“It seems my presence hasn’t yet made you feel the true danger of this place,” the voice spoke again.

After two days of relentless assault, Yang Lin’s group had gained nothing but lost many brave soldiers for naught.

The black sedan sped northward, its driver the same man in sunglasses, a cigar clamped between his teeth, dressed in a gray overcoat.

During the summer tournament, as the game’s meta evolved, the flaws of the single-core system became ever more apparent. By now, it had sparked serious internal conflict within the team.

Seeing that the matter had reached its conclusion, Feng Muqing knew there was no point in lingering and turned to leave.

Chen Shisan rose, grabbed a random handful of medicine for a waiting resident, then walked to the pharmacy’s entrance, his bamboo hat tipped low to conceal his face, watching the crowd’s reactions.

He’d only ever heard snippets about the Shadow Legion from his father—rumor had it this unit was invincible in battle. Now that Jun Ruyue commanded such a force, how could he rest easy?

Moreover, there was already a traitor among them; whatever they did, doom seemed inevitable.

Cheng Fei did not refuse—he handed over the flying dagger’s bamboo scroll, along with the fangs and skin of the Abyssal Titan Python, to Master Yun Ya.

In the face of absolute strength, no matter how many enemies arrived, there could be only one outcome: a dead end.

It appeared that Er Biao’s men truly mistook Zhan Zhizhan for one of their own, shouting warnings in unison.

In this soon-to-boil “magma,” it became nearly impossible for the Sampdoria players to continue the match smoothly.

Mourinho pondered for a moment before deciding to call another coaching meeting to discuss whether it was truly necessary to add this training module.

In the locker room, Wu Qifeng unlocked a cabinet and took out a change of clothes.

No one could say how many bottles of Maotai had been downed—“Four Roosters” and “Red Pepper” were the first to fall. Even Li Fengyan, unable to withstand the champions’ relentless toasts, ended up spouting poetry in her drunken stupor.

However, with Lin Zhong behind Feng Yuyao and seeing Wen Ren’s attitude, it seemed clear that she, too, was on Feng Yuyao’s side.