Chapter 120: Tian Meixue Gathers Ginseng to Sell for Money

Tian Meixue had been enduring a difficult time lately. Ever since Chen Yong died, her parents-in-law’s attitude toward her and the child had grown increasingly harsh. They seized every opportunity to scold her, and now they were even threatening to reclaim the house they currently lived in, telling her to find another place as soon as possible.

She never expected the two elders to be so heartless, leaving her and her son with no way to survive. Although Chen Yong was gone, Chen Yi was still their own grandson—could they really turn their backs on him as well?

This autumn, she and Chen Yi earned some work points together. After paying off the family’s previous debts with her earlier wages, they still had twenty yuan left between them.

Consciousness slowly faded. Gu Chengzhi only felt her body growing colder and colder, until she could hear nothing at all.

Make no mistake, the phrase “that old wretch” wasn’t uttered by the Zhu family’s parents; it was pure self-mockery from the Li family’s elders.

Wei Wanwan paused in her movements, then bit down fiercely, as if the fresh meat in her bun was chopped from Wei Ping himself.

As Shadow spoke, a flash of murderous intent flickered in his eyes, making Feng Lian’er’s heart pound with fear. In the end, she said nothing more, only sitting in her chair in a flustered silence.

After refining the three Thunder Dragons, she drew her sword and slashed at the tribulation clouds, instantly provoking the wrath of the heavens.

“The Crown Prince will not go. Those two drunkards will ruin my grand plans,” Teng Feizhou said with an impassive face, his tone distant.

Inside the carriage sat Murong Feiyan, gazing at the steward elder lying on the bed. The beast-drawn cart jolted constantly, causing the elder to cough without pause.

Since biologists developed “Source Energy Cell Activity Enhancement Agents” from grades B to D, ordinary people and scientists using them didn’t see much physical improvement, but their lifespans could now nearly match those of Source Energy Warriors.

A faint smile tugged at Si Yuanwei’s lips. He exhaled deeply, then turned to return to his office and continue his work.

The Ascension Realm, also known as the Initial Sword Realm, was when one could skillfully grasp the laws between earth and sky, whether for combat or other purposes.

Indeed, in Su Xiu’s eyes, his task of recruiting Lu Mingfei and offering protection was nothing more than a fully-funded vacation—relaxing and enjoyable.

“But I should at least tell him, otherwise he’ll worry,” Qin Zhen said, her brows lightly furrowed.

It was clear this short sword was no ordinary weapon; it might even be a true immortal artifact, far more powerful than the bronze coffin of the North Mountain Sword Lord from before.

Li Gun seemed to sense the stare and noticed Fang Mu as well. His expression shifted, and he discreetly signaled Fang Mu with his eyes.

In the Primordial Era, the human race struggled merely to survive; during the Wild Era, they teetered on the brink of extinction. But from the Ancient Age onward, humanity rose rapidly—not only did their numbers explode, but top-tier experts continuously emerged among them.

“Ma Zhao, help me look into the Liu Corporation—their information, shares, and the situation with their chairman. I want the details.”

Most of the outer disciples at Purple Cloud Daoist Temple were once wandering cultivators. Someone like Liu Dou, who ventured out to experience life, was the object of their envy.

After nodding, Vastness Number Seven acted immediately. However, he didn’t use any weapons; instead, he relied on his Seventh Sense.

Otherwise, if they ended up crippled, the loss would be irreparable. So the two returned to the hospital, just as when they left—everything was arranged by He Jun, perfectly discreet, with not a whisper of news leaking out.

However, when the knight had charged less than thirty meters, thorns and vines suddenly sprouted from the once-smooth ground, entangling the horse’s hooves, while the terrain grew rugged.

The “Demon of the Prison,” that ancient fiend, shouted arrogantly while fixing Wu Jie with a pair of demonic eyes.

To the north of Saint Dragon Academy, inside Gandalf’s wooden hut, Lawns had already departed. Gandalf was now immersed in his closing cultivation.

“If Shui Qing is learning, then I’ll learn too.” At some point, Shui Qing had become the role model everyone aspired to emulate.

“So, you’re the one who hurt my friend?” Standing before him was a man nearly two heads taller than himself, dressed in pristine white, with tiger-like brows, fierce eyes, a lion’s nose, and a wide mouth. Wu Jie ignored his words, instead coldly throwing the question back at him.