Chapter Forty-Five: Feverish Body

Substituting tea for wine.

Ouyang Junyan wondered, how could Tessa change so suddenly?

But having grown up with her, he knew this girl was not particularly cunning, nor was she malicious; she was simply too persistent when it came to him.

If she truly could let go from now on, he would be willing to remain her good brother, always.

“All right, let’s toast with tea,” he said after a moment, dropping his guard and taking the cup Tessa handed him, clinking it gently against hers.

“Thank you, my good brother!” Tessa replied with a cheerful smile.

...

More than half an hour later, Melody Fang finally arrived at the address. As soon as she got out of the car, a waiter promptly approached her.

Shen Mubai still lay slumped over the table, regretting having sent Qingyan away so early and feeling rather dejected.

Well, since she’d already been discovered, she might as well admit it; crouching up there was indeed far less comfortable than sitting in the chair, especially with that soft cushion on the seat.

Some impatient classmates were startled by a sudden voice sounding directly in their minds, but once they recognized it as Xingyue Zhong, they all relaxed.

It was like the carousel of memories people say flashes before your eyes at the moment of death: scene after scene, frame by frame, played out before them, finally halting in a laboratory.

Clutching her bag, Shen Mubai left the company, feeling too lazy to cook at home today. She was about to hail a cab to her favorite restaurant when, unexpectedly, a middle-aged man called out to her.

Beneath the flames, a colossal fire qilin glared with radiant eyes at the man standing before it.

To be fair, Yan Ronghan became such a scoundrel largely because his family doted on him so much.

They had been holed up in the supermarket for days; who could have predicted that fool Lin Yang, after being asked so many times, would continue to resist, drawing all those zombies to them and eventually leading to a breach. In the end, they had no choice but to throw her out as a distraction.

His lips twitched uncontrollably, his expression difficult to describe; he truly didn’t know whether or not he should listen.

Zhao Yiyi wasn’t particularly heavy, and with Xu Ran’s strength, her weight was no burden at all.

Without waiting for Fang Xiu’s response, Liang Du tapped his toe lightly, clouds swirling and dust rising, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

Everyone gathered around Xu Ran, laughing and joking. Xu Ran smiled as he handed out snacks he’d bought in advance, still able to call each child by name, never forgetting a single one.

Lu Bu’s techniques were steadier and more refined than ever before, while Xu Chu, robust and naturally strong, matched him blow for blow. Both wielded heavy weapons, gritting their teeth as they exchanged strikes, making for a thrilling duel.

Liu Feng observed from below the city for a moment. Seeing no one by the gates, he split his men into two groups, sending them up the left and right staircases. A dozen waited below; once the drawbridge was lowered, they would immediately open the gates.

In truth, the new laboratory was where Dr. Zhang felt most at ease. This setup was already quite simple for them; having conducted the experiment once before, repeating it posed little difficulty.

The next day, scouts reported that General Zhang Liang indeed commanded the rebel forces in camp, burning incense and praying, all shouting for vengeance for the Celestial General. Fifty thousand Yellow Turbans abandoned their assault on Julu and marched grandly toward Guangzong.

She wore her hair in a neat, cool ear-length bob, dressed in a set of brown, form-fitting leather armor, a longsword at her waist. Her delicate, fair features were full of spirit and vitality.

“I was wrong, Zhou Lang. Please, don’t abandon me,” Li Xinyu pleaded softly, clutching my hand.

When low-ranked martial artists wielded the Trapping Array, controlled puppets, or mechanical beasts, they became capable of destroying high-level martial artists. Victory depended not on one’s own strength, but on mastery of techniques.

Of course, it made sense; Taixu himself was already Level Four, and at such a rank, it was only natural for him to know many things that ordinary people—or even the majority of supernaturals—had no idea about.

My mood was a tumult of emotions, especially at the moment I shouted those words—I suddenly felt so sorrowful. Strangely, when I first realized he was truly there and not just a dream, I felt happiness, but in the next instant, his mockery and sarcasm made me indescribably sad.