Chapter 29: The Vase Actress Who Is a Fake Heiress in Modern Society (29)

The Legend of Zhaoming is a story based on the historical figure Princess Mu Zhao, the Defender of the Great Yan Dynasty. Although it is a historical drama, many details of the princess’s life were lost to time, allowing the screenplay to take creative liberties despite being anchored to historical records. The story follows Princess Mu Zhao, whose immense military achievements and popularity among the people invited the jealousy of her younger brother, the Emperor Mu Ji. To ensure the stability of the imperial court, Mu Zhao...

"Get up, quickly!" With a familiar, booming voice, everyone was jolted awake from their slumber.

Upon seeing the man, Zhou Tianhao’s expression darkened. This Yan Renwang was a kingpin in Qiongzhou, controlling an ocean shipping company. He was notorious for hijacking vessels and engaging in kidnapping and extortion—a truly troublesome character.

Almost no one favored Ye Chen; they shook their heads and sighed, eyes cast downward, already anticipating the sight of Ye Chen being brutally crushed by Jiang Long.

But then, they watched in astonishment as Zhou Fan pressed his severed thumb, which was hanging by a mere shred of skin, back onto his hand.

Hearing this, the horse-faced man nodded in relief and sat back down, a smile he couldn't quite hide tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Lin Junhe sneered inwardly. He’s just tired of life on the run and wants to swallow his pride and return to Jianghai City, so why dress it up in such flowery language?

Primitive Christianity was a dualistic religion, positing that where there is good in the universe, there must also be evil; thus, the Devil is an indispensable part of the Christian faith.

A loud slap rang out by Zhong Xu’s ear, leaving it ringing. Having rarely been beaten for quite some time, he had finally been struck.

"I understand, but what’s done is done. Let’s take it one step at a time," Nie Li said, unbothered. Some things don't require so much contemplation; follow your heart, and find peace within.

"Breathe naturally, let your mind be free of distractions," Xu Changqing said, hovering his hand two centimeters above Yun Ting’s chest.

"You transformed yourself into a spectral entity and merged with the body of a Doomsday-class spirit for this very moment, didn't you?" Ma Gongcheng asked, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Seeing the look in Mudan’s eyes, the now-calm Ninetails felt a flush of embarrassment cross her face.

The priest seemed anxious; aiming at the assassin, he immediately unleashed a blast of blue flame, which Li Ziming easily evaded with a double jump.

Consort Rong nodded silently and, supported by her attendants, slowly walked into the Fengyi Palace.

Some succumb to such blows, while others strive for self-improvement; some even undergo a rebirth through fire, reaching greater heights.

Yue Wangshu inquired about Mu Fusheng—the handsome youth on the white horse from that day—while Cheng Ying, shamed by the rumors, had not stepped outside for days.

Amidst the chaos, Ye Chen searched for He Yang again and again, all the while remaining vigilant for any lurking demonic beasts.

Exactly—it was Ma Gongcheng’s plan. Since he couldn't kill him in the real world, he would drag him into the Shadow World and use the erosion of the shadows to finish him off.

He never imagined that one day, he would be summoned by his descendants, his divine consciousness forced to possess a zombie.

However, faced with such immense pressure and the formidable spiritual presence of the Nine Elders, Zheng Guihui found himself unable to refuse again. Weighing the pros and cons, he began to show signs of backing down.

At the foot of the fourth celestial staircase of the Heavenly Palace, Shui Mengyao gazed in the direction where the golden light had vanished, two silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

To avenge his loved ones with his own hands—this was all Lang Yu could do. Qing Yu’s soul had already dissipated, and he could never bring her back. Though he never made a formal vow, a silent oath took root in the depths of his heart.

A moment later, their discussion ended, but instead of turning back, they continued to creep forward.