Chapter Seventy-Three: The Four Great Treasure-Hiding Sects Gather

Fatty Zuo took out several pieces of yellow paper and instructed us to bite our middle fingers and write our birth dates and times on the paper. After we did so, he produced four paper effigies, attached our birth information to each one, then turned to us and said that our lives now depended on these paper figures. We must keep them close at all times and never expose them to the open air, or the guardians of the forbidden domain would be drawn to us and utterly consume us. Moreover, the Soul-Sealing Yellow Paper Art had only two...

The Justice League’s base in this area was located in a building within the factory district. The explosives were powerful enough to bring the entire structure down. If not for the Heroes' Alliance evacuating the place ahead of time, there would certainly have been innocent casualties.

Many people felt incredibly fortunate not to have qualified for the ancient secret realm; otherwise, they would have been doomed. The great dragon’s arrival was menacing and clearly meant to massacre the young warriors of Nanli.

In contrast to the neatly equipped Second Battalion of the 177th Regiment, Squad Seven looked like a band of beggars—especially Fan Zhou Ergou and Chen Shan, whose cloth shoes each had two holes.

“Let him go? Impossible. The game has only just begun; let’s take our time,” the gentleman said calmly.

At such a distance, Kenyas couldn’t determine the person’s identity, but he was surely a renowned and powerful figure.

He knew that to obtain the antidote to the poison afflicting Ye Longjue, Ji Longteng must have paid a steep price; after all, it was a toxin that even immortal-level alchemists were powerless against.

“She doesn’t just want to kill me—she plans to rebel and crown herself emperor! Please, Your Majesty, and Your Highness, overlook past grievances and help me this once. Help me report this to my father. Once he sees through her plot, she will have failed,” Liangfeng pleaded with Bai Mo, disregarding their previous enmity.

The scenery was beautiful, but health was even more important. So, when rain and cold winds swept in, Yang Nianzhong quickly rolled up the car window. The family gathered around the bedside, sipping warm black tea, eating fruit, and marveling at the sight outside the train: mountains on one side, sea on the other, and autumn rain drifting from the sky—a scene both novel and delightful.

Though Liu Yanger was angry, she had no solid evidence to prove Jin Lei had deliberately faked a scandal; all she could do was quarrel loudly, relying on her intuition.

Fenglianzi’s face was deathly pale, a trace of blood trickling from his lips. He turned to look at the man and asked, “Cheng Linting! Why?” The man leaped back, and with a wave of his hand, some disciples of the Cloud Path Sect drew their swords, the shing of blades piercing the bodies of those around them.

Receiving a meaningful glance from the Yang matron, Uncle Jun suppressed his fury. Though still seething inside, he dared not criticize Jun Li further, fearing she would really move out if pressed. He pursed his lips and turned away.

Though she knew there was nothing between Nan Changqing and Yao Yi, Qingyue’s possessive nature was strong. Since she had decided, Nan Changqing could only belong to her.

However, Matsumoto had already stepped back, his eyes shrouded in a darkness so profound it seemed to bid farewell to the world itself—a final, irrevocable severance.

The implication was a sarcastic jab at Dongzhu’s utter uselessness, suggesting he was less capable of self-defense than a mountain spirit who had trained for a dozen years.

On the ninth floor of the Sky Painting Pavilion, the leading sects had assembled. Even rival sects now shared one roof, forced by recent events to set aside old grudges and discuss urgent matters together.

A certain deity, munching half a celestial peach, lounged lazily against the heavenly pillar outside the temple, absentmindedly stroking the Heavenly Wolf Lord’s mane as he glanced at him with indifference.

“…Well… then I won’t stand on ceremony,” Ouyang said, eyes wide, tucking away the money, draining his teacup, and then pouring red wine for Wang Di and Mo Dong in turn.

Observing Qingyue’s demeanor, Nan Changqing recalled her ordeal earlier that morning and could only sigh in resignation.