Volume One, Chapter 62: Shen Ruzhi Extorts 5,000 Yuan from the Fu Family

All of Shen Ruzhi’s suspicions were confirmed. Looking at Wang Yaoyao’s smug, disdainful expression, she curled her lips into a devilish smile. Her delicate face was enchanting and beautiful beyond words; though she wore only an ordinary apricot sweater, it became an elegant garment on her, exuding an unprecedented sense of sophistication.

“I never expected such a treasure to exist amidst the chaos,” the Master of Tongtian sighed, now convinced of what Liu Xuanqing had said. After all, she knew nothing about the Pei family’s affairs, nor if someone was scheming against Pei Mosheng from the shadows. For now, all she could do was pray.

However, if the two of them wanted to leave, Goat Daoist and Fairy Purple Moon would never agree. The outer disciples of the Chan Sect echoed their sentiments, all believing that Guang Chengzi was right, as his words always formed a complete logic.

Shen Nie remained silent, his fingertips pinching her chin to turn it aside. He saw the clear marks of kisses on her pale neck, and the corners of his lips slowly lifted.

The children’s clothing store was large and bustling with customers. The two wandered among the shelves, casually browsing.

Even the regular army had become involved at the time, secretly deploying many personnel to the scene.

Wen Shiyi leaned against the doorframe with a leisurely air, her relaxed posture exuding absolute confidence.

Ye Wuji snorted coldly, a gleam flashing in his dark eyes. The bracelet on his wrist emitted a mysterious light, and the primordial energy within him surged forth.

Naturally, they did not refuse—merely nodded and got into the car. Shi Huan was the last to board, glancing back at Song Qingyan and Jian Rou, who stood far outside. She waved at them with a radiant smile, bidding farewell.

Yi Bai smiled, said no more, and turned his attention to the fight at Ring Two. The battle on Ring Two was already at its peak, with both warriors from the Martial Camp showing formidable strength.

“The East China Martial Arts Tournament is supposed to be for participants from East China Province. What, has Annie changed her nationality to Huaxia?” Yi Bai snorted, fully aware of Annie’s purpose in joining the tournament.

“Master, eighteen strong opponents have appeared around us. They are setting up a formation,” Daji’s expression suddenly became grave as she looked at Jiang Chengdao.

Usually, he was the one ruthlessly pushing the main players. Now, he had finally met someone even more relentless—pushing injured players to their limits. True, Li Xing had recovered, but if Coach Lu were in charge, with his integrity, he would never risk a player’s health for prolonged play after recovery.

By then, Chongzhen would surely know the truth. He was simply waiting to be executed, and even Zu Dale could not save him.

What kind of mentality is that—to want to grovel whenever someone else performs well? Is there no principle at all? None?

Blood shot straight into Trick’s eyes—“puchi, puchi”—twice. Hidden in the blood were two nails, which struck both of Trick’s eyes with precision.

Zhou Cheng’s income was not low, but certainly not considered high. As for accepting red envelopes from patients, he had never done such a thing.

His words mocked those Daoists of the Profound Deity stage, but also subtly extended goodwill, for he mentioned that the Demon Lord Zhang Yi used cultivators as models to teach the young demons of Demon City.

Tyrion’s expression was blank as he took a step back. Freed at last, Ner’zhul was like a predatory tiger—crouched low, leaping forward, clutching the two stones in his palms as if holding the most precious treasures.

Nuboton’s visit to the Grand Lord was not to discuss the thriving Clay Council, but to deliver a crucial answer regarding another important figure.

“You’re Jiang Qingxue’s driver, aren’t you? Get lost—I’m here for your Chairman.” The man grinned at him, his demeanor full of contempt and disdain.