08. Ming Snake

Dusk.
It was already dusk.
The fading daylight was swallowed by the cool evening breeze sweeping down from the distant mountains.
Candlelight flickered at the reservoir on the east side of the village, where two thugs dressed as soldiers sat idly.
The short, stout soldier smacked his lips and complained, "My mouth is so bland I could die. Why did we get stuck with this reservoir-guarding duty? No women, no wine, no meat."
As he spoke, he tugged at the sweat-rag around his neck. "It’s too hot. Truly, it’s sweltering, as if a fire has been lit somewhere."
After muttering to himself, the True Dragon surged with wild winds once more, transforming back into a skeletal dragon and returning to its original domain.
The God-King of Nishan flicked a finger toward Ye Chen, intending to strike the boy who had suddenly stepped forward out of the sky.
Xia Miaoran knew what Xu Bansheng was about to do, so she explained their situation. She kept it as simple as possible, avoiding making Xu Bansheng sound too miraculous, and emphasized that the Xia family had suffered a string of misfortunes over the past two years, which Xu Bansheng had resolved as soon as he arrived, having identified the problem as lying within their ancestral grave.
No one heard what the sleazy man said to Ding Zhiyong on the balcony, but in less than a moment, the man, now holding over three hundred in cash, walked back with his arm slung around Ding Zhiyong's shoulders.
A patch of grass sprouted beneath his feet, and in a flash, Zhang Feng’s Rengar surged forward as if riding a somersault cloud, pouncing on the Blind Monk.
Suddenly, a Buddhist chant surged out from the tomb in rolling waves of sound, the echoes resonating like the homage of ten thousand Buddhas, instantly imbuing the Yinling Mountain with a sense of solemnity and sanctity.
What others had said about him merely painted him as a hooligan or a thug, but Yue Bin’s words effectively branded him as the leader of a terrorist organization with countless murders to his name.
Song Tao heard the people’s whispers; his expression twisted, and his face grew increasingly sullen.
Riven landed, her "Ki Burst" stunning the air once more. Seeing this, Yexue Kuangge was plunged into despair. His speed had been at the absolute limit; he had used his Flash the very instant his ultimate came off cooldown, terrified that Ye Di would calculate the timing and be prepared.
He looked around at the information-gathering devices with a bewildered expression, feeling uneasy as the various colored lights flickered within the lenses.
Thinking of how she had lost her virginity in such a confused state, Moxiya truly felt a mix of laughter and tears.
Although Gao Cuilan could not speak, her eyes were wide open. She cast frantic looks at Zhu Tianpeng, signaling for Old Zhu not to yield to the threats of Guiyuan Mountain.
This was not just what she wanted to ask; it was what they all wanted to know. No one dared to provoke an ancient sect that had existed for thousands of years, but now Ye Chen was heading to Kunlun. Luo Wushuang could think of no reason other than searching for Dongfang Zixuan.
Subordinates were duly promoted, and two or three were granted the title of Marquis. For a time, everyone rejoiced, and the world sang their praises.
The arrow tip pressed against his throat, breaking the skin. The faint chill of the metal stood in stark contrast to the searing heat of his blood. A mere hair's breadth more—just the slightest pressure—and Guan Hai’s trachea would have been pierced, yet that final fraction of an inch remained impassable.
"You are a diplomat for the United Kingdom, which means your current nationality is British?" Fang Yi’s tone carried a hint of mockery.
With Zang Ba’s thirty thousand troops stationed there, the Western City was officially under Liu Yong’s governance. Yang Ren finally relaxed, no longer worrying about Zhang Wei leading an army to attack.
Having no leads, Fu Xi could only walk in the direction where he had last encountered the half-lizards, hoping to run into some along the way.
Seeing this, everyone hurriedly produced stone umbrellas to shield themselves. They successfully withstood the intense heat of the magma, though the surfaces of the umbrellas became pitted and scarred.
Most people understood in their hearts that if Zhao Yun had dodged once, it was a coincidence; twice, it could be called luck. But having dodged repeatedly in such a manner, a chill crept into their hearts—this man’s grasp of timing was precise to the point of perfection.