Chapter 33: Tell me, why are you with Yingying?

Upon hearing that familiar voice, Sang Fuying felt her heart skip a beat in terror.

"Uncle... I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you..."

She apologized, feeling like she was on the verge of tears.

She could never have imagined that she would accidentally strike her uncle across the face... It left her just as mortified as that day in the bathroom when his psychic powers had spiraled out of control and he had kissed her!

Sang Yao pressed his tongue against the cheek that had just been slapped, feeling it tingle, as if savoring the sensation.

"You knew all along that Uncle De had offended them, so you felt his fingers deserved to be broken. Even though Uncle De retired later, how could you forget who it was that raised you?" Xia Haoyu’s voice was calm, yet his tone carried a chilling edge. I heard a sharp "pew," followed by a scream from He Kun.

"It’s not just a possibility; it’s a certainty. If anyone saw that much money and didn't feel tempted, they would have to be a saint. It’s just that because he wasn't greedy, he wasn't discovered or suspected," Jin Yaru stated firmly.

It was no wonder Wu Dalang thought that way. Although Gao Lian’s wealth could not compare to Ximen Qing’s, he had the backing of Gao Qiu, and even the magistrate had to show him respect. The collusion between officials and merchants had always been the most powerful force—an eternal truth—so naturally, the gifts he sent were extremely valuable.

Ying Ming walked off the field in utter misery. If he hadn't tried to create distance from Meng Qi at the very first moment, with his late-stage Golden Core cultivation, Meng Qi would never have been able to win so easily.

"Chen Dong was assassinated? For such a thing to happen at this critical juncture, could it be that your plans have been leaked?" Li Zhishi asked, knitting his brows.

Zhuan Zhu was taken aback. He turned his head to examine the situation more closely, and after a few moments of scrutiny, he realized something was amiss.

However, those who had seen Meng Qi effortlessly handle Black Eagle, a top general under Yang Dayuan, yesterday felt that Meng Qi still had a chance to make it out.

The two traded blows seven or eight times, neither gaining the upper hand. Both were severely exhausted. As they separated, panting and secretly regulating their breathing, their eyes remained fixed on each other with cold, deep-seated hatred.

As for Lao Wu, Zhang Musheng, who had spoken up and offered her help, he was clearly her favorite. Throughout the journey, she chatted most animatedly with him, and there was an unmistakable look in her eyes that she showed no one else.

The reason Feng Que disagreed was primarily because he bore a rather special mission, necessitating that he keep as low a profile as possible.

If an opponent relied on the conventional thinking of an ordinary person, this move would be impossible to guard against.

Bill and Chen Luo both had brown hair, but the former had inherited more of his father Harker’s features, appearing somewhat rougher.

Lin Fan snatched the weapon, snapped it into pieces with both hands, and then slammed his palms into the opponent’s head. The shards of the weapon pierced the man’s skull like a honeycomb.

Sweet took the paper and looked at the information regarding Leon’s true identity; his expression flickered between shadow and light.

After staying home for less than a month, Harker set off once again with his guard unit.

Even she had once believed that this was likely a finished song that existed only within the confines of a recording studio.

Song Luo called Lin Xiatian twice, but the line remained busy. He sent her a message to let her know he was safe and then drove back to Jiangbei.

As for Ye Su, who stood beside her, her face was refined and detached, her beauty beyond the reach of ordinary people. Yet, anyone who saw her for the first time would only remember the steady, piercing clarity of her eyes.

Before he could speak, the middle-aged man opposite him suddenly flashed a smile. It was a cold, sinister smile, and his eyes, like those of a wild beast, stared fixedly at Leon.

The person who had fallen from the horse was about sixteen or seventeen, dressed in a silver-blue brocade robe trimmed with white mink fur—clearly a young nobleman.

Since the resurgence of spiritual energy, people from all walks of life, regardless of their previous professions, had become intensely curious about superpowers and cultivation.