Chapter 46: A Three-Day Vacation

The sun rose and the moon fell, time flying past swiftly.
Amidst the monotonous cycles of training, meditation, and more training, a year passed in the blink of an eye.
Growing a year older, Beibei had already reached approximately rank 34 in strength, bolstered by the blessing of the soul power vortex.
However, she did not immediately apply to obtain her third soul ring, intending instead to wait until her soul power improved further—reaching around rank 35 at least—before selecting a suitable soul beast.
Both her first and second soul rings were already of the thousand-year level.

"There's no time to explain! I need to see my master!" The masked man waved his hand, walked over to a room, and opened the door to reveal a downward staircase. It appeared the floors inside the building had been cleared through to connect vertically.

Mu Aoqing glanced at the bath towel she had discarded to the side, thinking to herself that this odious man—even though she was in the wrong—must have planned this with premeditation.

Passing through the grand hall of the palace brought them close to its far end. Appearing before everyone was a tightly sealed stone door. Traversing this door, which required no mechanism to open, and standing within this final room, they could feel an atmosphere vastly different from the outside world.

"It's all a matter of mutual affection and two willing parties," Jiang Yu'er offered with a natural smile.

The human grand army referred to that gigantic hand as the "Holy Hand," called the god-tier mages who led humanity in battle the "Divine Men," and attributed all victories to the supreme deity they worshipped.

Hearing this, I suddenly recalled hearing Xie Bi'an's voice just before I lost consciousness, yet at this moment, though I remained right where I was, the figures of Xie Bi'an and Zhou Binheng were nowhere to be found.

To him, plunging that sword into such hard bluestone slabs was as effortless as a kitchen knife slicing through tofu; it undoubtedly had to be a fine sword.

He stood gazing fixedly in place for a long while, yearning for this wonderful moment to freeze right here. But for Ning Wuhua, that was absolute wishful thinking. With missions, hatred, and responsibility pressing down upon him like a series of heavy burdens, Ning Wuhua could only push forward with grit and endurance.

"Boss, boss, let me have a look!" Recovering from the minor bruises within his body, Muer leaped up from the ground, came over to Allen, and demanded the Trident of the Sea God.

"Since General Tu's mind is made up, We shall not detain you any longer. As a meritorious official, We bestow upon you a hundred mu of fertile fields, a hundred taels of gold, and fifty bolts of silk," said the Emperor. Deep down, he felt a certain lingering regret and a prick of guilt over General Tu's departure; offering generous rewards was perhaps a way to soothe his own uneasy conscience.

Vanishing along with him was a cultivator, perhaps remembered by some, or perhaps long since forgotten by the world.

The humanoid figure did not dodge or parry, instead driving its spear straight into the back of Mopas's head. The tip of the spear collided with the steel barrier, erupting into lightning-like fine threads.

"No, no, no, I have no popularity, I..." Zhang Wei declined in a panic, knowing his own situation best—he could not possibly bring any revenue to their company.

"I am a native of Baijiagou in Tianqian Mountain, by the name of Bai Jinwu. I have come to the capital for the imperial examinations and am staying here temporarily. Might I ask your name?" Qidian inquired.

Just as he was about to turn around and head upstairs, he saw his boss, Park Jin-young, dashing downstairs in a whirlwind of haste.

"Mina, are you making lunch or am I?" Ji Qingcheng asked, sitting on the sofa and snacking on a freshly opened bag of potato chips while looking at Ji Mina.

Unfortunately, she had no idea what kind of thought process guided the candlelight—or rather, me, who used to be a magpie and remains a magpie now—just as leeks have no inkling of the harvester's intentions.

The pristine white pages of the diary turned an ominous, deep blackish-purple, and a wisp of dark smoke began to curl upward from them.

The system requests that the host capture the Triwizard Tournament trophy within the mission time limit and reconstruct a physical body for Mr. Riddle inside the diary.

Vials and jars of all shapes and sizes were displayed within, emitting radiances of various colors, continuously radiating thick medicinal fragrances and fluctuations of primordial energy.

Several factions of political rivals, harboring grievances and enmities, figures as mismatched as a cow's head to a horse's mouth in the upper echelons, were holding their first private gathering together at this restaurant.