Volume 1, Chapter 27: Spirit Sound

After using his clairvoyant ability repeatedly, Lin Yun felt a piercing pain in his eyes, as if they were being pricked by needles, and tears flowed uncontrollably. His head throbbed, and his body felt so weak that his bones seemed ready to fall apart.

"This ability is truly exhausting to use!" Lin Yun complained to himself. As a Limit Esper, he found it surprisingly difficult to handle a second-tier ability.

"Lin Yun, why do you look so pale? Why don't you skip your shift today and go home to rest?" Old Ma asked, looking at him with concern.

Before Lin Yun could answer, a provocative voice drifted from the doorway. "Yo, who looks so pale? Why not join me at the Heavenly Fragrance Foot Spa to relax? I guarantee you..."

The voice of the Peerless Sword King rang out like a phantom. At that moment, everyone felt a violent surge of energy behind them, accompanied by a terrifying intent to kill.

The Jade Blood Spirit Ginseng shimmered, uttered that single sentence, and vanished once more into the vast fields of medicinal herbs.

It was as if Long Yougu were a soul fragment of the Creator himself, having developed his own personality and will through endless cycles of reincarnation.

Along the way, Gang Yuan told Cai Zhixiong many things, including the purpose of the Ranking Stele and details about the Heavenly Gang Prince’s Mansion.

Seeing that the sixth elder of the Chimera clan had lost his value, Lin Yun executed him without hesitation.

The Fallen Devil looked closely, only to discover that Lin Yun had already appeared before them.

***

Seeing Lu Qing'er’s attire and her anxious expression, the onlookers knew she was another outsider who had suffered at the hands of Xie Zhengren. Although they pointed out the path to her, they couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

It was said that the Avici Hell was incredibly treacherous, but they hadn't expected even its entrance to be so perilous.

"It has already discovered us; it’s likely too late to leave now," Zuo Qingyan said with a solemn expression.

Before this, Ling Zhiyuan had repeatedly questioned Song Xiaojuan, the assistant head of the primary education department, about whether the teacher had actually struck the child. Upon learning that the teacher had only touched the boy’s head with an exam paper and had no other physical contact, his confidence grew.

"Sigh, you should have said so earlier. Look, you’ve beaten me until my heart has softened, and I’m bleeding so much—how disgusting. The cleaning lady will be cursing people again later," Xing Fuchen sighed, putting away his club.

The day passed in a haze. It wasn't until Abin pushed open the door of the private room to remind me that I realized it was time to get off work.

However, she felt that her aunt must have been in cahoots with Shan Mingze, which was why she had fallen into such a miserable state. That was why Xixi was deathly afraid of Shan Mingze, not even daring to speak to him. Even when they were in the same room, she would stay as far away from him as possible.

I looked around; it was a simple bedroom, containing nothing but a bed and two wardrobes.

We had met through each other, yet they ended up as allies who teamed up to insult me. Could that possibly feel good?

It turned out that the real Shan Mingze had been brought here by the criminal police. We had no idea why this was done, nor who the Shan Mingze fleeing downstairs was. For now, we could only keep our focus on their conversation.

Yet, compared to the terrifying, god-like majesty of Wu Zizhong, the assault from the Dark Night seemed weak; his vigorous frame appeared as fragile as a rodent by contrast.

When two massive armies clashed in a life-or-death struggle, an inconspicuous figure moved like a ghost through the chaotic melee, heading straight for the enemy forces charging in.

At this moment, Zhao Shengbo returned in high spirits. Seeing his expression, everyone knew that Xing Fuchen’s result was legitimate and that Xue Dashan had been thoroughly defeated. All eyes turned toward Zhao Mu, Zhao Jin, and Zhao Ji; judging by their expressions, the vast majority supported Zhao Ji’s account.

"Are you disgusted by my scars?" Meifu asked with a look of disappointment, lowering her head to look at the floor.

Among the sixty-four teams and one hundred and ninety-two participants present, Ze Jin was the only one daring enough to mutter such things about the Lord Demon.

***

Yang Chong glanced at the alien crew members watching the spectacle and felt that the dignity of Earth had been completely lost by the people before him. Even if they were looking for trouble, they shouldn't have chosen such a time. With so many aliens watching the internal conflicts of Earth’s geniuses, what would they think of Earth?

Long Yifan and Niming walked out of the ancestral hall. The sun was still shining brightly; it was the late autumn of the East Alliance Region, unimaginably beautiful, with vast skies and wide horizons.

Two hundred meters from the Black Bee Base, Lin Tian stopped. He didn't need to enter the base; he only needed to set up an array on its perimeter.

Yet, just yesterday, seeing him so heartbroken, Yu Siyi had finally told him the news that Lin Tian was still alive.

Below that, a cavern appeared before them. A wave of rich, herbal fragrance hit their nostrils, and the group immediately felt a sense of lightness, the fatigue of their long journey vanishing in an instant.

"If the Senior Sister wishes to exchange hostages, Ling'er will naturally comply. But as you said, Senior Sister, we serve different masters now. From here on, I will not hold back for the sake of our shared sect," Gan Ling sneered.

Lin Yu was silent. The others seemed to know about this as well and were not surprised, though the enmity between the Heavenly Tripod Sect and the True Demon Gate was deepening; perhaps the two sects were headed for a situation where only one could survive.

Yang Chong could no longer sit still. He had always had clear goals, but regardless of his intentions, what truly supported him was his immense strength.

Cai Zhiyuan also picked up his phone, dialed a number, and retreated to a corner, whispering into the receiver.

Yun Jiao'er clenched her fists, her beautiful face cold as frost. Ye Zhichen’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but after a moment of thought, he let go and turned to look at Lu Heng.

He wanted to offer a word of warning, but Huang Xin had already struck the rump of Zhang Ren’s horse hard. The white horse let out a pained whinny and bolted forward. Zhang Ren was not a good rider to begin with, and now, covered in injuries, he had to cling to the horse’s neck with all his might, unable to even muster the strength to speak.