Volume One, Chapter 40: Turning the Tables

At this point, Wang Fuqiang realized the situation had escalated beyond control—there was a real chance he would end up at the police station. He had stolen the bicycle, but the money and the other thing were not his doing. It had to be his mother. Yes, it was definitely her! She must have stolen the money before he did—eight hundred yuan! She wanted to keep it all to herself. Flustered, Wang Fuqiang dashed over to the police officer, pointing at Xu Fanglan.

Countless film and television adaptations have been made of Journey to the West, and the beloved Sun Wukong has become an idol in everyone’s hearts.

“You slandered and insulted this prince behind my back. According to the laws of Great Qian, you should be slapped a hundred times and imprisoned for three months. Today, I only slapped you once, out of respect for the Su family. Otherwise, I would send you straight to the Ministry of Justice, where you would taste the ten great tortures of Great Qian!” Lin Xuan said coldly.

Heaven knows, at that moment, Xi Yingzhi was seized by a sudden urge—she wished she could slap him until his head was broken and bleeding, only then would she be able to vent the hatred in her heart from the humiliation and slander she had suffered in her past life.

Liuer kowtowed repeatedly, begging for forgiveness, and only after Xi Yinxue’s exceedingly generous comfort and persuasion did she finally withdraw.

Now, Shen Mingzhu openly presented that malicious plan to the Lady Qin, fully expecting that Si Nanzhi would never admit to hiring an assassin, nor confess to the crime of adultery.

Using project funds as leverage—this tactic had always worked, and he knew Zhao Qi would definitely agree.

Though resentful, the women dared not bear a grudge against Master Ji; instead, their gaze, sharp as knives, swept ceaselessly over the three newcomers.

Before the Soul Cultivation Tower, the crowd surged and swelled. Cultivators from all over the world gathered there, the atmosphere electric with excitement. Many among them, regardless of whether they had qualifications to ascend the tower, longed to witness with their own eyes who the true strong ones were. The establishment of the national rankings only fueled their support and enthusiasm for their country’s cultivators.

Among the plump grains in the rich black soil, several fat earthworms writhed, and a sharply-defined square tombstone stood at an angle. The characters on its top had been blurred by years of wind and rain. Now and then, petals drifted down, bringing with them a few beetles.

In the split second when the back of my head struck the steel plate, a forceful, monstrous energy pried open my shattered teeth, black mist surged from my mouth, wrapped around something, and dragged it before me. At such close range, I finally saw the true face of the gray mist.

At that moment, Xing Guangzi was already emerging, carrying a thick quilt in his arms and a pillow in his hand, struggling a bit. Murong Yanyu hurried over to help.

“Of course I have to come, but you need to come over now. The heavy-armored mechanics you wanted have already been assembled, all personnel organized according to the plan. Come over today and take a look—if you’re satisfied, we can start equipping them.” Chen Jiechun’s tone suddenly shifted, becoming serious.

Su Qingji expressed a viewpoint that was strikingly racist—though, perhaps, it wasn’t quite racism. Her perspective was closer to complete neutrality, the stance of a scientific researcher.

Yet, even gathering ten thousand people was a challenge, and a hundred thousand was utterly unthinkable. Gao Feng could only take things one step at a time.

Once everyone had left and the curtains were drawn, Baoyu seized Grandmother Jia’s hand, his eyes full of grievance, his lips beginning to tremble.

If things were allowed to continue as they were, perhaps in the not-too-distant future, the great tree would come crashing down.

When Gao Feng arrived, both Gu Yuan and Gu Zhixin were there, arguing over several manuscripts in their hands.

Zheng Datou assured them with certainty—no one knows their own family’s affairs better than themselves. Though the old pharmaceutical factory’s equipment was not as advanced as imported machinery, it could still produce.

The black man’s words enraged Greg even more. He kicked the foul-mouthed man several more times, leaving him wailing in agony.