Chapter 42 Xia Qihua

"Little Vine, come down."
Little Vine immediately dropped from the core of the man-eating flower. Li Xiaoxiao raised her hand with a beckoning gesture and summoned Little Vine back into her palm.
Little Vine’s body was pitted and scarred, corroded by the digestive juices of the man-eating flower.
Channeling her wood-element psychic energy into Little Vine, she quickly healed the injuries on its surface.
Sensing the fluctuation of the wood-element energy, the man-eating flower stopped crying as well. Its massive blossom lowered along with the energy ripples, sinking down right in front of Li Xiaoxiao.

Choked up by Wuming's blunt retort, Xiyao's pretty face flushed red with anger, her body trembling slightly. Clearly, she was desperately fighting the urge to punch someone right then and there.

Without a military order, the White Horse Guerrilla Battalion forbade anyone from entering—not even His Majesty the King of Tang, let alone Fu Xiao, who was merely an ordinary Daoist priest from Mount Wudang.

Tiger immediately caught on. Regretful enough to slap himself across the face, he hurried over to Liang Weidong and moved to drop to his knees.

With a nod of agreement, several other members of the Ghost King Sect instantly surged into the battlefield, launching an organized and disciplined assault on Wuming that exerted immense pressure upon him.

At this thought, the heavy burden of worry in people's hearts lightened considerably. Yet, they still diligently maintained the Chaos Deity-Demon formation, not daring to lower their guard. After all, the fact that the Dragon Crocodile could not leave the palace did not mean it lacked the power to slaughter them all.

Another two days passed. Lin然 went to work on time every day and left punctually, leaving the other employees rather astonished by his transformation. They knew his temperament all too well—he was practically a model practitioner of skipping work, leaving early, and showing up late. How had he suddenly turned into this sort of person?

However, this hands-off approach was not a sign of abandoning his cultivation, but rather a choice to forbear elders from interfering, allowing him to explore and grow on his own as much as possible. Although the effects might not be visible in the short term, and he might even fall far behind his peers for a time, a martial artist's life is exceedingly long, and a temporary victory or defeat determines nothing.

Over here, Lin然 turned the blade over and over in his hands, pondering: If this fellow Fang Zhongping is feeling guilty, he is bound to come. How on earth should I face him? After turning it over in his mind for a while, he tossed the knife aside and went to sleep.

Xiang'er remained silent in deep thought, having already realized that this porcelain bottle was definitely not as simple as it seemed. She had figured it out, and naturally, the old man understood as well. Meanwhile, Ouyang Li was slowly snapping out of his towering rage.

Lin然 said to Oufei, "I'm going to look for someone now. You wait here obediently. If your wife and children aren't dead, I'll help you rescue them." Although the probability of that was slim, if there was even a shred of possibility, he was still willing to try.

"Go back and tell the head of the family that I need to consider it before giving him an answer," Fa Zheng said, looking at the figure in black.

The Phantom Dragon had helped Xu Ming immensely, meaning he owed it a favor. Naturally, since it had a request, he would do his absolute best.

Seeming still somewhat uneasy, after finishing those words, he inspected the setup once more to truly set his mind at ease. Afterward, he began fiddling with the terminal, strapping it onto Small Fry's wrist. Before inputting the program, Da Vinci remembered to take a parting shot at Small Fry, remarking that he shouldn't have been so kind as to remove the poisonous stinger in the first place.

"I'll say it again: put the person down immediately and get the hell out! Otherwise, I won't guarantee your lives!" Swiftly and cleanly dispatching those three fellows, the assassin swung the claws in his hand, pointing them at the other professionals inside the room.

Just as he was fleeing desperately, the shrill wail of a police siren echoed from afar, accompanied by the flashing glints of numerous star-like lights atop police cruisers.

Do you all still remember that speech he delivered in the live broadcast room when he faced the camera and reminisced about the past—"Back then, you and I were in our prime."

"A name is merely a code, and aside from that, it holds no meaning. Besides, I never remember other people's names anyway," the old gentleman said.