Chapter 102: Alien Invaders? (Four Thousand Words)

After settling everything, Shen He walked into the bathroom, scrubbed himself clean, and changed into a fresh set of clothes before stepping out.

He then lit the incense he had purchased. Surprisingly, as the fragrant smoke curled and drifted through the rented room, it added a distinct, ethereal charm to the atmosphere. He sat upright, rubbing his hands together in excitement. Looking at the remaining points on his interface, he went straight for a ten-draw.

As lights flickered within the room, the dozen corpses on the floor turned into bleached skeletons in mere moments, a sight chilling to behold. Xia Liu smiled warmly; only by constantly presenting new things could he make Guo Man forget the bloody scene she had just witnessed.

Although Zhang Xian desperately hoped this was the case, his profound understanding of the Wei army told him that with forces being equal or even slightly inferior, the Wei army could not possibly possess the power to strike fear into the hearts of the Xiongnu.

"I heard from others that the sports field was built over a decade ago and was renovated a few years back," Wang Zida said.

Lan'er felt a jolt of alarm and was plunged into a dilemma; she feared the majesty of the Marquis of Wei, yet she did not wish to defy Lady Dan's wishes.

"I have indeed maintained my martial arts; it is the result of years of dedicated research. I developed a pill that, once consumed, preserves one’s internal energy and even allows for continued cultivation."

"Only when we, ruler and subjects, are of one mind can we weather the storm together and forge ahead!" Wei Wuji said, his words pregnant with deeper meaning.

It was over! The bald old man remained frozen in the pose of cheering for Jack, then, like countless gamblers who dream of instant wealth only to lose everything, his eyes went vacant as he stared ahead. His legs buckled, and he collapsed dejectedly to the ground.

Chen Feng sneered inwardly; the enemy had clearly been aiming for a kill. If he and his companions had died on the spot, it likely wouldn't have affected the Underworld Tower’s plans much. They would have snatched the Xuanyuan Sword and the Demon-Subduing Fan as well—the master of the Underworld Tower would probably have been ecstatic.

Ten minutes into the second half, Li Mu had provided an assist, while Zhang Shujie had yet to show much, barely even touching the ball. It wasn't until the fifty-third minute that he finally had a real opportunity to be in the spotlight.

Two merchants were arguing incessantly. The Northern Chu officer in charge of the area, accustomed to such sights, didn't even bother to raise an eyebrow. Just as he was about to order his soldiers to fine each of them five taels of silver, arguments erupted simultaneously in several other parts of the market, as if pre-arranged.

Everyone looked toward the commotion, and upon seeing what was happening, they all gasped, feeling as if the sky itself were collapsing.

Suddenly, Luo Yangyang heard rude curses erupting from the back rows. The volume was high, and judging by the voices, they sounded like hot-headed young men.

Luan Yue swung her short flute, and thousands of poisonous snakes let out strange cries in unison, crazily wriggling into the gaps of the vine net.

"Your Majesty, scouts ahead report that the demon troops have lost over half their numbers, and the rest have fled." Upon hearing the report, Lanye’s eyes darkened; he immediately left his retinue and bolted outward alone.

She had brushed it off at the time, but now, her mother must be heartbroken, feeling betrayed by the deception.

Xu Qining was startled, the smile vanishing from her face. She hurried a few steps, returned to her room, and slammed the door shut with a bang. Leaning her back against the door panel, her heart pounded incessantly.

For a moment, she truly wished to cast aside all those so-called responsibilities. If she had met Lanye at the very beginning of her transmigration and fallen in love at first sight, would the subsequent developments have been much sweeter and more comforting? No constant fighting, no endless troubles—how wonderful that would have been.

The Prince of Jin was roughly fifty years old, with a full face and a spirited demeanor. He wore a smile at the corners of his mouth, appearing very amiable. Yet, his eyes held a restrained brilliance, with flashes of keen light surfacing now and then, commanding instant respect.