Chapter Ninety-Two: The Beginning of the Counterattack

Yan Jinxie felt a cold heaviness settle in her heart after Mo Qinghan’s words, and she mocked herself silently, “Yes, what does it have to do with me anyway?”

Sitting in the passenger seat, Mo Qinghan sensed the sadness in Yan Jinxie’s heart. Wanting to ease the awkward tension his lack of conversational skill had caused, he was about to say something when his gaze inadvertently flicked outside the car window. Through the rearview mirror, he caught sight of Zhao Yiya driving a red Ferrari behind them. A sudden surge of anger rose within him, his obsidian-black eyes moving restlessly in their sockets, and a wickedly charming smile curled his lips as if he were scheming something.

Coincidentally, a traffic light stopped Zhao Yiya behind them. After Yan Jinxie turned the corner, she was called to a halt by Mo Qinghan at the roadside. Mo Qinghan forcibly dragged—

Just as Situ Linxiao was feeling triumphant after defeating Li Yu, he suddenly sensed a powerful murderous intent behind him. Before he could react, a pitch-black dagger was already dangerously close to the back of his head—just a hair’s breadth from killing him on the spot. Yet all of this was interrupted by a flash of sword light.

“Very well, I shall go inside and take a look at her. Surely I can do that without waking her?” Prince Qing’s tone softened.

A slew of thoughts flashed through Wu Fan’s mind in an instant. He instinctively pushed up the glasses perched on his nose. Once intended to help him maintain composure and think clearly, now they simply served to shield his exceptionally high charisma.

Wang Yue nodded in satisfaction, straightened his clothes, and revealed a smile he believed to be insouciant and roguish.

At present, the buzz about the Victoria’s Secret show online was still unabated. Many major fan accounts and news outlets gathered like sharks drawn to blood, swiftly converging.

Compared to what others displayed, Tai Jianbo had a steady pile of goods before him; by sheer quantity alone, he left the rest trailing far behind.

In the next moment, behind her, a phantom of a purple lotus soared into the sky. Each petal seemed forged from the purest amethyst in the world, sparkling brilliantly, dazzling and magnificent. Accompanied by the aura of chaos, the lotus radiated a sacred and inexpressible nobility.

Just as everyone barely managed to fend off the first wave of attacks from the roots, hundreds of specters appeared all around them. Though weak individually, their overwhelming numbers posed a threat, making it difficult for those entangled by the roots to spare any effort to deal with the ghosts.

There were actually people nearby capable of forcing them to use such secret techniques; naturally, every snow wolf grew even more vigilant. Those who had been sleeping now sat upright, watchful and wary of their surroundings.

Father Qin was utterly bewildered, Mother Qin’s expression was equally confused, and Qin Xinran puffed out her cheeks, clearly displeased with the person her sister was introducing.

Lin Feng could see that Demon Luo Invincible had not intended to belittle him. Such battle maniacs always spoke their minds; if their opponent was strong, they would readily admit it.

Branches and leaves were scattered, and on the trunk-like wooden head, a huge mouth moved gently, uttering its final words.

But then Lin Feng laughed—indeed, the necromancer had escaped, but the Poisonous Octopus had not. Its size was simply too great; only its head managed to squeeze into the void fissure, while its tentacles remained outside, as if its head had been caught in a door.

Narrowing his eyes, Zhou Shiyu lay in the grass, using a camouflaged binoculars to adjust to the intense brightness of the searchlights. His expression was serious as he watched the city walls.

After a long breath, the agitation and humiliation in Lin Xiner’s eyes gradually faded, replaced by a cold-blooded ruthlessness.

Yao Shuang and Yan Lengfeng should be called the elite of the Five Venoms Sect, the crème de la crème. A few simple marks could not confound two sharp-minded individuals. If they were not natives but trial players, they would instantly grasp the meaning behind the marks left by others.

“Lord Chiba, there’s a Chinese challenger!” Having thrown caution to the wind, Kameda Ichiro shouted toward the stage, where the Japanese swordsman stood like a clay statue, unmoved by the commotion outside the ring.

“Flares!” As Chen Yunfa climbed a building with his machine gun, five soldiers who had neared the gate drew their pistols and fired two shots skyward above the Japanese regiment headquarters. Two flares slowly descended, illuminating every corner of the headquarters, which occupied only a few acres.