Number 47 is just picking on you.

Watching Qing’s movements, Beidou was momentarily stunned but said nothing more, following closely behind. After all, the entire village now knew about Nie Bin and Liu Mengru’s affair; it wouldn’t be long before they held their wedding banquet.

He could clearly feel his ten fingers swelling and aching sharply, as if something were trying to sprout forth. Following this precedent, the other four players who had obtained the keys and treasure chests also formed alliances in pairs.

“Tsk tsk tsk, the little sister’s grown up and has been whisked away by someone. Alas,” Tang Shu lamented, patting his chest in sorrow.

Pan Lianggui was a cold-hearted and unfeeling man; he wouldn’t even deign to associate with such a “child of an old acquaintance.”

Nowadays, gold was an absolute hard currency. Regardless of the inkstone’s craftsmanship cost, just the gold alone could buy a large mansion in Beiping.

Nie Bin immediately gathered the entire development team, instructing them to begin transferring the game server’s functions to the platform’s interface.

The bedroom’s main light flickered spasmodically as if seized by a seizure! Even the bedside lamp twinkled with an eerie red glow.

“Stop!” The middle-aged sect leader’s eyes turned bloodshot. Knowing this was undoubtedly the work of that fellow, he charged forward recklessly.

Staring at those luscious, enticing lips, Li Moran had gone mad—these were his former favorite.

The more he thought about it, the more he sensed a conspiracy, though he couldn’t fathom its nature.

---

The two-bedroom suite on the 11th floor was bathed in abundant light, facing south with a square layout, featuring a dining room, living room, a spotless bathroom, and a kitchen.

Having just changed out of his shoes, Jianming Chao was handed a cup of tea by Mo Wanqing, whose smile appeared somewhat stiff.

Liu Mu hadn’t rested properly for half a month. During that time, she’d written countless words; her right wrist and shoulder had grown stiff and sore. Most painfully, her neck ached from prolonged bowing while writing. Even back aboard the ship, she avoided turning her head due to the pain.

In early summer, she wore a pale pink top and tight shorts. The sea breeze gently lifted her long hair.

Approaching gracefully, Yan Chengqian suddenly looked up. Though her expression remained calm, she sensed a trace of guilt. Qianqian sat opposite him; as soon as she settled, her favorite fancy milk tea was served. Unfazed, she calmly stirred it.

It was no wonder the royal guards were so anxious. Should their lord obey the command and depart, it would play perfectly into Liu Kun’s scheme. But if he refused—that would be a capital offense for disobedience and treason! Whether he left or stayed, it was a dilemma that tore at the heart.

The final trump card was wielded by the Western Barbarian Elder, head of the sect. He did not summon the Kunwu Sword but instead a simple, brown rosewood zither. Plain, with no carvings, it bore only seven strings. No one would have guessed this was one of the Eight Divine Artifacts—the Fuxi Zither, capable of controlling all living beings.

Three days of insomnia had left him utterly exhausted. Slumping into the large sofa, pain still gnawed at him. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Startled, he rose and went to the door.

Xiu Yu placed Qin Ming beside the Puppet Elder, who then drew two long swords from mechanical arms. With iron hands gripping the blades, he spun deftly in all directions.

Yizhu stood next to Zhao Chuyao, watching the siblings’ playful bickering. Were it not for their kinship, many would have mistaken them for a couple.

Since the battle at Mount Tu and the Daoist Alliance headquarters incident, the entire continent had come to recognize Tu Mountain’s true strength. As a result, many forces arrived to offer congratulations, eager to forge ties.

“I wonder what gifts Azhan and Brother Mubai will give him? Ah, such a troublesome birthday present,” Su Mianmian lamented, feeling overwhelmed.

---

Upon hearing Yan Ling intended to use soul-searching magic on them, the cultivators showed terror and outright refusal.

Liu Yu laughed heartily. Today, his mood was high: Gusli had reached Foundation Establishment, and the hawk Ye had advanced to level six. Level six was significant—it equated to the late Foundation Establishment stage in humans, meaning Ye’s cultivation surpassed Liu Yu’s own.

Today, he had also received news from Mo Chen, compelled to interrupt his recuperation to welcome the Young Palace Lord.

Murong Xi felt as if each kiss deepened, infusing more warmth into him. The heat gathered in his chest, biting at his mind like an army of ants, stirring a painful blaze wherever it spread, tormenting his body with itchiness and soreness.

Having been struck by the spiritual force sent by Emperor Yihuang, he groaned, collapsed to the ground, and spat blood.

With skeletal zombies closing in from all directions, the group had no escape, drawing ever closer together.

She felt as if something inside her had been drained away—the hollow emptiness crashing over her like a tidal wave.

The man’s left ear bore a glowing sapphire-blue earring. As the light faded, his robe transformed into a white garment embroidered with red patterns, bearing the character “Ruined” on the left chest.

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