Chapter 147: You Call This a Small Scene?

“Nelson, what exactly brings you to me?” Franz sat on the sofa, swirling the glass of red wine in his hand, his eyes filled with puzzlement as he looked toward the man standing by the window.

He knew full well the identity of this old friend—they both worked for the Americans—but that only deepened his confusion.

Logically, this guy should be extremely busy: Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen—all places engulfed in flames of war. There was no way he didn’t have assignments waiting. So how could he have stayed here for half a month...

“I’ve run into some trouble,” the middle-aged white man said hesitantly. At this moment, he no longer suspected that Xu Qing was acting deliberately; the profits from electronic pets rivaled those of dupin.

“If not for you, then who else? It’s too low-level for your mother, but just right for you. Just don’t forget to keep its brilliance concealed, lest it attracts unwanted attention,” Ye Ming advised.

As if sensing something in the depths, Elisa Fürlanza, still unconscious, furrowed her brow in discomfort. Then, opening her eyes wide with terror, she half-knelt on the ground, turning her head as if searching for something.

In an instant, the palace swelled with the wind, and amidst the howling gusts, a magnificent structure rose in the blink of an eye—hundreds of feet tall and sprawling across thousands.

With such a thought arising in his mind, Wu Liang pondered briefly before heading straight to the slave market in Blackstone City.

Ye Ming frowned deeply, pondering for some time without understanding the cause. But when he looked down at the bloodstained clothes on his body, realization dawned immediately.

Yet Kazetada Fuu did not answer Maki Nishikino’s words. His blood-red eyes were unfocused, and his brow was slightly furrowed, as if contemplating some grave matter, leaving Maki uncertain if he was feigning ignorance.

To be honest, the first time I met Liu Thirteen, he seemed just a sunny boy. Who would have thought that only a few days later, he would change so much—growing taller, his facial features more defined.

Because of this, during the fierce battle, Ye Xuan never even had the chance to unleash that mysterious and terrifying ultimate move.

A beam of light shot out from the fissure he created, glaring sharply against the black stone door.

The Snake King roared furiously at Wang Hao, his tone more somber than angry—a deep despair underlying his intense demeanor.

These forces were capable of fighting a nation like Qing, but facing He Xuan, they still fell short. Thus, the Europeans began transporting troops directly, a process that would take one to two months.

“Then we’ll give it to them. We have plenty of money; leaving them some gold means they won’t starve, right?” Jennifer said innocently.

After speaking, Liu Xu threw off the quilt and got up. She’d been out for a while and felt uneasy about Bai Ye’s injuries.

The true turning point lay in the confrontation between Hong Chengchou and Huang Taiji around Jinzhou and Songshan—a battle involving over 200,000 troops.

“There must be something inside!” Sharp-eyed Zhai Dejun immediately spotted shadowy figures within the crimson beams of light.

Upon hearing this, everyone fell silent. The Night Emperor’s proposal was the best way forward; after all, no one wanted a life-or-death struggle among the great powers over the Sacred Flame Order.

High in the sky, the Death-Hand of the Wilderness clutched nine stars, battling with the power of the Nine Luminaries. The surrounding space collapsed, and the dark void’s energy was suppressed.

That night, Old Hu came down with a high fever. Wang Hao and the others mixed antipyretics and antibiotics into porridge to feed him. By morning, Old Hu seemed much better.

Su Zimo remained silent, his gaze fixed on the mysterious magnetic mountain in the palm of the leader of the Divine Clan, contemplating his next move.

Though Long Zizai had forced Yang Lan, he had always loved her deeply. If Long Zizai died like this, Yang Lan would surely blame herself. He would rather die in battle at Long Zizai’s hands than have Yang Lan carry the burden of guilt for the rest of her life.