Chapter Seventy-Three: The Dream Begins to Stir

It took a long moment for Cheng Yu to snap out of his daze. Holding his phone, he blinked slowly several times and said, wide-eyed, “The counselor wants us to visit the hooligan in the hospital…”

Ming Shuang took the phone and stuffed it into her pocket, curling her lip. “I heard. The counselor also said the hospital visit expenses will be reimbursed by the department. I think we should seize this opportunity and buy a few boxes of Brain Gold.”

If the counselor could casually promise regular students reimbursement, it was surely the dean’s idea to give them some ‘hush money’. Otherwise, where would such luck come from? Ming Shuang, the Holmes of the group, had seen through it long ago; indeed, the adult world is always this pragmatic. When it comes to issues like teachers harassing students—matters that affect the school’s reputation—Cheng Yu’s assurance of confidentiality is just words, nothing solid. But now—

Not long after, Bai Xiyun quietly instructed Xilai, who promptly bowed and left. Bai Xiyun returned to Qi Miao’s side.

What did this mean? I could mass-produce third-level experts! Even first-level ones! Of course, that would be disrespectful to the dead… So, unless we are forced into a desperate situation, I would never use mysterious corpses as shields.

The two-headed bat seemed to hesitate for a moment, then slowly landed on the ground, walking toward us step by step.

Guan Junyan knew that whenever Bai Xiyun thought about how her family treated Qi Miao, she would be furious.

Chen Jian Mo Wen smiled, the confusion on his face replaced by playful reproach and complaint. Though he lay there naked, he showed no sign of embarrassment.

From head to toe, Tsuchimikado Motoharu looked like a delinquent youth, accompanied by the clinking sound of his gold chain and the unpleasant shuffle of his slippers. He emerged from the shadows in the corner of the room, entering Aleister Crowley’s line of sight.

But just then, on the distant Yanhuang battleship, a series of flashes erupted. A dozen terrifying 356mm shells exploded nearby after ten seconds, causing the American soldiers to instinctively scatter and seek cover.

Three days later, we flew to the mouth of a cave—the entrance to the underground world. We had come out from here before, so naturally we could enter the same way.

After advancing more than ten miles, the scouts reported a Japanese blockade ahead. About a company of Japanese soldiers were standing guard.

The auction continued, and as lot after lot was sold, time slowly passed. Although we saw all kinds of items and gained much knowledge, it was still dull—most things failed to catch Wang Bo and his companions’ interest.

“Heh, alright, sleep well.” Wu Junxi’s hearty laughter rang behind me. He stopped troubling me, lay down, and pressed himself against my back.

Sophie and her two relatives could sense Qin Feng’s hostility. His grim face clearly spelled ‘unwelcome’. Sophie’s uncle and cousin’s faces darkened instantly, feeling their dignity gravely insulted. The anger in their hearts began to smolder.

No sooner had I thought this than I felt Qingling grab me, as if someone tugged my collar. My neck tightened and my body grew light as Qingling pulled me to her side.

Thanks to Huoxu’s introduction, people learned that half of the elders were descendants of Iron Anvil, while the other half were outstanding dwarves from various fields.

Those bored lounged lazily against the PK stage’s thunder pillar. “As long as you’re happy, just remember to hide your strength,” he said, with an indifferent look.

Shaking his head, the old man saw the anger and urgency in Zhusheng and his companions but cared not at all.

I noticed sticky crumbs from steamed buns on both my inner and outer garments. I hurried to the wardrobe, found clean clothes, changed from inside out, and thick-skinned, went for lunch.

“Hua Hua, Mao Mao, Ah Dai, I’m off to the loo. Keep an eye on our turf, don’t let anyone take it. Tonight, if I get paid, I’ll buy you all some meat buns,” I said, hands on hips, arranging things seriously.

Hearing these words, Jiraiya sighed deeply, gazing silently at the departing figure.

“Mr. Luo, I think your accounting is really quite messy,” Shen Ying said, unable to hold back after his eighth visit to Luo Gang’s office.