Chapter 121: The Long-Awaited Elder Brother

1.4 After leaving the old alley, Yu Gutou did not return to the government office by the same route. As soon as he dashed out of the lane, he ducked behind a wall at the corner of the alley entrance and stood there, motionless.

"It is still too early. I must wait a while longer..." Yu Gutou muttered in a low voice, huddled in the shadows of the wall. "I wonder how long they can hold out. What if something truly goes wrong?"

Just as Yu Gutou was rambling to himself out of sheer nervousness, a voice, at once familiar and strange, suddenly drifted down from the top of the wall: "Which lost child is this?"

Yu Gutou recoiled from the wall in a hurry. When he looked up at the source of the voice, he was shocked to see someone who had no business being there—Yu Zhen of the Yu family.

All his principles and bottom lines were reserved exclusively for Tang Yusha; how could Lan Wuyou possibly be compared to her?

Ordinary people would not understand. Our battle has already begun. For a martial artist, whether it is the way one eats or how one holds chopsticks, one must insist on self-discipline. Daily actions are the shackles of self-restraint.

The high beams of the BMW were switched to low, casting the surroundings into dim shadows where nothing could be seen clearly.

Yet, regarding what happened with Yang Yiyi that night, Zhou Fangyuan was surprised to find that not only was she not a virgin, but she was also quite skilled.

"Uh, this sword can grow alongside its master," Xie Fan said, feeling deeply moved by his senior sister’s insistence that he carry the Qiushui Sword.

Gu Junyan’s suits were usually black, gray, or dark blue. Nian’an thought it would be safer and more versatile to choose a white one.

Since the incident at the Golden Statue Awards, Su Yao had been abandoned by Enlighten Media, and along with her, Zhou Yan had also forsaken her.

No, you are the same, Nalan Yuanshu. You have transformed from an elegant aristocrat into a bloodthirsty devil.

Before the incident with Chunhong, these tea trees had always grown here. They had picked tea leaves for so many years without any accidents; it was only after the changes in the Soul Refining Valley that Chunhong’s soul sea was injured while picking tea. This meant that what harmed Chunhong must have been the aura of the demon in the Soul Refining Valley.

Thinking of this, I shoved Wisdom Star aside to clear a path and immediately headed toward the stairs. I would walk straight through; I did not believe anyone would dare to stop me.

His expression suddenly turned grave, as if he had discovered something truly extraordinary, and his breathing became rapid.

Su Zhou bent down to pick it up, and the moment his fingertips touched the screen, he was surprised to find it covered in water.

In the past, Princess Ximin did not bother Chu Yu because she knew that without the support of the Emperor and the Empress Dowager, she could not defeat her.

He pointed his wand at the trunk and muttered a spell that sounded vaguely familiar to Harry. The family crest on it shattered instantly, turning into a wisp of blue smoke that vanished without a trace.

Xiao Zhiruo showed no intention of backing down. Qin Feng could see that her status within the Xiao family must be exceptionally high.

Alas, how could Su Zhou not understand these truths? But thinking of... thinking of how he had secretly checked his phone again when his uncle went to get their meal, seeing those malicious comments attacking his uncle, his earlier calm vanished, replaced by deep unhappiness.

The last time we met was at the Third Middle School. Back then, he had pretended to be refined and courteous, showing no signs of being someone who would resort to violence. But now, he clearly intended to attack me—or rather, he had already struck.

Those towering trees resembled monsters of the night, giving off an eerie and sinister feeling.

"I have already told you, I have an appointment with the Dragon King!" Xu Ang declared triumphantly, looking nothing like the man who had been lying there limp as a dead dog from heatstroke just moments before.

The Three-Headed Demon spoke again. Behind him, countless demon soldiers stood with terror in their eyes, their spirits broken by the Crown Prince. Although the demons were valiant in battle, they were not fools; they knew that charging at such a formidable opponent was merely a death sentence.

When Song Ting returned home from Yongtai, dusk had already fallen. He tied his chestnut horse to the post, dropped his three-foot-long whip, and strode into his house with a heavy heart.