Player Interface

The afternoon sun was perfect as I stepped into Quiet Garden. A bluestone path wound its way through a sea of golden chrysanthemum blossoms, leading to a white villa that glowed with a gentle luster in the sunlight.

As Mu Xinning pushed open the door, the motion-sensor lights in the foyer flickered to life, casting a warm, golden glow over the starlit gray quartz flooring. The interior of the villa featured frost-silver walls, and the living room felt even more expansive than imagined, with an open-plan kitchen situated to the left.

Walking down the corridor on the right side of the living room, I entered a spacious chamber. Red candles flickered, their wax tears dripping slowly down the stands and congealing into long, whisker-like formations.

Clearly, she had been pushed to her limit, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on; she was absolutely furious and was now intent on taking her wrath out on the Bai family.

I looked, still shaken, at the sharp hairpin embedded straight into the carpet. I could hardly believe it—if Zhize hadn't intervened just in time, I would surely have been dead or severely wounded.

I finished the meal he had called a "delicious feast" in haste, though to me, it was as tasteless as chewing wax. Tong Tong, oblivious as ever, ate happily. While Nangong Feng was in the restroom, she clung to his hand, refusing to let go even at the door.

I had no desire to say more on the subject. The man was in the terminal stages of narcissism, a hopeless case beyond any cure; further discussion would be futile.

With another savage roar, the three-headed dog opened its maws, and hellfire as black as ink surged forth from all three, pouring out in a continuous torrent like a volcanic eruption.

She felt he wouldn't be able to handle the reality of having a brother, which was why she had sent him to live in the United States. It was indeed unfair to Yin Yixuan, which was why Jiang Tingyu had always shown him such special affection, satisfying his every request. She felt deeply indebted to her son, yet she still could not allow him to acknowledge his true heritage.

Fairy Canglan offered a wry smile. She knew, of course, that Yu Feier intended to participate in this trial. If she refused, the girl would surely harbor resentment, and even if she returned to the Canglan Sect, she might not focus on her cultivation. Besides, this trial would serve as a valuable tempering experience for her.

The old man shouted while channeling his inner energy into Liu Dawei, desperately trying to heal his grandson.

"Handle it as it should be handled. Do you really need me to teach you how to deal with such things?" Qu Xiu snapped, his expression dark with irritation.

Accompanying me were not only my loyal brothers, Fatty and Ghost, but also Blackie. Blackie and I went back a long way; he had followed me around since our days at the martial arts school, sticking to me like a shadow. Such trust, forged over many years, was not easily shaken.

"Give me a reason to have someone assist Ghost," I said to Fatty, landing a punch squarely on Wang Zhicheng’s face.

"What a miserable sight!" Xu Kai, who had been smiling all along, turned grave. His chest heaved with each breath, filled with mounting rage.

After crossing a mountain ridge, the four of us followed the winding path at a measured pace until we reached the foot of the mountain, where we stood peering at the entrance of a cave.

I immediately slipped out of bed, creeping on tiptoe to Ghost’s cot. I gave him a light tap, and he opened his eyes with instant alertness. He looked surprised to see me.

Yanzi looked embarrassed and was about to speak when a mouthful of black blood suddenly erupted from her lips. I shone my tactical flashlight on it and saw a small red worm in the dark fluid, identical to the one that had just fed on my blood. I breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed the treatment was working.

Upon entering the room, I looked around. The decor was remarkably ingenious; while the basic furnishings were nothing new, the ornaments displayed within were truly extraordinary.

Although few cultivators emerged from these shops without calling them "black shops"—places of extortion—they returned anyway. There was no choice; they had to. This was especially true for the shops that bought and sold all manner of miscellaneous goods.