Volume One, Chapter 79: Worship of the Moon

Although there are varying degrees of quality even among high-tier jade martial arts, the weakest of them still surpasses the finest of mid-tier jade martial arts. Ling Xiao simply disliked the Holy Lord and those who targeted him; he bore no deep resentment against the Sacred Soul City itself. Yet what puzzled Ye Feng was that, after sprinting dozens of miles, Fu Jiang had not struck, choosing instead to restrain his aura and follow at a leisurely pace.

But in the scene depicted, aside from some faint signs of unrest on the streets—caused by the strange phenomena in the sky—there were no traces of monsters at all. His mind suddenly cleared, and the various problems he had encountered during his cultivation became instantly transparent.

Blade Sister’s gaze grew cold; the shock in her eyes faded, replaced by an icy resolve. She tried to raise her hand but found herself weakened, her movements slowing to a crawl.

“Ha, so easy for you to say? I think you’re playing tricks,” Xia Yang, no fool himself, saw right through Ma Yue’s intentions.

A series of howls rose and fell; the indestructible phantom of the Azure Light Beast, shaped by primal force, extended its claws and struck the “Destructive Roar.”

Qin Tian raised the Cangbing Blood God Sword in his hand, pouring all his power and blood energy into the forbidden innate divine weapon.

Pei Yanquan leaned on his wheelchair, watching Xia Sui’an, who sat sprawled on the grass, plucking blades of grass absentmindedly, and asked.

Fortunately, the number of demon wolves was limited, and the blood energy collected by Gu Li was now as thick as three ropes bound together. Once the illusion ceased producing demon wolves, it meant the blood energy collection was complete. Now, he needed to refine from this blood energy his own murderous aura.

Now, seeing that Gu Li had cultivated to the peak of the Spirit Ascension Realm—matching himself—he could not help but feel bitter. Previously, Gu Li was far inferior; reality had struck him hard, and resentment brewed within.

“Ugh, it’s too rich—I can’t eat anymore.” Xu Hongdou shook her head and stuffed the half-eaten wheat tea into Chen Mo’s hands.

The West Desert’s national selection for the twenty-year Kirin Seed Tournament had officially begun. Today was the first day of selection, and only such a grand event could entice the people of West Desert to brave the heat and flock to the arena to bet on the matches.

Especially those clear and cold eyes, like moonlight in the sky—instantly recognizable.

The wails of vengeful souls within the black mist gradually faded. Fewer and fewer spirits circled Su Chenyin and her companions, until none remained.

“He’s still inside, thinking he can persuade Chief Huo—an overestimation of his abilities!” Liu Xuexin sneered.

Shen Wei wanted to record the scene with her phone but was unsure if it was allowed, so she asked a nearby staff member.

When all was done, Zhao Huer was weak, her cheeks flushed, too shy to look Zong Zheng in the eye.

According to Night City regulations, outsiders can stay for no more than three years, and must pay ten primary quasi-immortal crystal cores per day.

As the ethereal wave rippled outward, Tang Feng saw clearly: the experts of the Soul Hall instantly grew countless tentacles, quickly plugging their ears, mouths, noses, and every orifice.

The speaker before had also been a great cultivator, a recruited ally with whom he had some rapport. In terms of strength, he was a full tier above, at the mid-stage of the great cultivator realm.

Cloud Feiyang, whose divine body had reached perfection, was utterly unfazed by the raging winds and calmly crouched down.

“Beast! How dare you!” Ling Baiyu nearly leapt up; killing Ling Zihang before his eyes stung worse than if he himself had been slain.

However, now was not the time to reprimand the eighth elder—after all, he was his uncle. Everything would depend on tomorrow’s outcome.

He had nearly exhausted himself, barely withstanding the Infernal Dragon Break. Sesshomaru, panting, gold eyes narrowed through dust on his handsome face, wondered why his opponent hadn’t seized the opportunity to attack. Had repeated use of Infernal Dragon Break drained him of power?

“Ling, are there any obedient ones?” Sesshomaru’s expression flickered, and he spoke without thinking.

“Is that so? Truly heartless—after all, I was planning to tie myself and Dahe together as a butterfly bow to gift you!” Wen Jing jumped before Chang Fei, gazing up at him.

During his battle with Chu San Dao, the chaotic blade techniques at the start had already left him seriously wounded. Later, he forced out his strongest ultimate move, and, without a moment to adjust his true energy, continued to recklessly use the Cloud-Chasing Step.

Ye Tian’s lips curled into a mocking smile. For Wu Liangcai to attempt to plot against him—how laughable! Like a horse unaware of its long face, or an ox oblivious to its curved horns.

Only in this way could students ensure a passing score of eighty and enter the Gold Sand Academy. Moreover, the higher the score, the more scholarship one could receive.

Zhao Zhenxu’s parents, too, were a pair of oddities. Both had married under family pressure, neither fully willing, yet they managed with remarkable reason and mutual understanding.

The nebula was vast and beautiful—like a surreal oil painting in everyone’s eyes. Its colors were dreamlike and mysterious, with giant stars shining like diamonds, dazzling beyond imagination.

Ye Tian had some slight dealings with descendants of the Manobahe Dynasty, knowing it to be a rather secretive organization. He had only helped them acquire an eight-tone music box, never engaging deeply with them.