Chapter Eighty-Three: A Brief Ramble

The next morning, when Ergou awoke from his hangover, parched with thirst, his uncle was staring at him with two enormous, panda-like dark circles under his eyes.

"Awake?" The little uncle, who had spent a fruitless night pondering the meaning of life, squinted tiredly as he asked.

Ming Shuang quickly realized that he'd used his uncle as a human mattress all night long and hastily rolled aside onto the bed. Turning his head, he greeted him, "Hey... good morning, Uncle." Only after speaking did Ming Shuang notice his voice had turned dry and raspy, sounding like a middle-aged man who smoked, drank, and devoured spicy food for decades.

Ergou cleared his throat deliberately, waiting for the parched sensation to subside before repeating, "Ahem, good morning, Uncle."

The little uncle, preoccupied with his own thoughts, didn't respond at first.

"There will be a three-day break, including the weekend. The notice has already been sent out, just before the monthly exam," Gu Yunnian replied.

The letter read: If you are still able to read this, it means the threat from the stars has been eliminated. The world is vast and free for you to roam. As comrades who once fought side by side through life and death, I offer you my heartfelt congratulations, but at the same time, I must apologize.

He Niannian, who had already reached the area around the cave, stood dazed amidst the falling snowflakes, her heart a tangled mess of emotions.

Li Gaochao even felt a pang of guilt for having told Zhao Weiyang so much about Qin Yang and Si Qian.

As for whether they looked out for each other, Lin Chong didn't see it. All he saw was the three old men gathering together every day, bragging and talking nonsense.

The bun shop owner realized he'd misjudged Lan Yu; the real culprit was indeed another cat. Embarrassed and annoyed, he raised the stick he’d meant for Lan Yu and swung it at the stray cat.

After all, these things were designed to become increasingly challenging, forcing people to learn more and more as they progressed.

His strength was far beyond that of an ordinary Supreme. When he fought Pan Feng, he barely exerted himself before winning; against Hua Xiong, he used his spiritual power to win as well.

Another dawn broke. Amidst the dense forest, two agile figures leaped swiftly across the treetops.

"Brother Bingchen, are we going back tomorrow as well?" Bingxue gently tugged at Bingchen's sleeve and asked softly.

"Hello. Nor is such a delightful girl; we seem quite fated," Xia Bingling replied with a slight smile.

Qin Bin let out a cold snort. His inner energy surged to its peak as he aimed to overwhelm his opponent in a single move. A faint white glow appeared around his fist as he smashed it fiercely toward Jinglun.

Ghost-Split Stone, one of the finest materials for array formation, on par with Divine Blood Vine. Qin Bin had never expected to find such a stone in Chen Liang's house, having thought it impossible to find such things.

How could Qian Tu bear this? To be so completely ignored—did they even understand the situation they were in? Did they realize the danger? Or perhaps these people had no sense of crisis at all?

The fat man Zhuo Yishou grinned insincerely as he shook hands with Qin Bin, secretly applying force to test Qin Bin's strength. After all, his hand skills were highly refined—hence his nickname, Zhuo Yishou.

"Let's hope so," Murong Xue nodded as Wang Feng made his solemn promise. But whether Wang Feng could actually fulfill it, Murong Xue was uncertain. All she could do was choose to trust him.

"Wait a moment," Wang Feng suddenly called out, as if remembering something, stopping Hong Rong, who was slowly walking away.

Unable to sway their stubborn son, Father and Mother Li could only support his wishes, collecting every piece of information they could about Murong Fei'er during his pursuit.

Xu Jingyuan was badly injured; though she’d been given calming soup before being sent back, she was still utterly exhausted.

Squinting at the man across from him, veins bulging on his forehead, he stared at Zuo Shaotang. Usually calm and unpredictable, he found himself unable to maintain composure this time.

"Is he still alive?" Jiang Lan glanced at Mao Yinglong, whose final form was preserved in a block of ice.

And yet, this man was strikingly handsome and dashing. Now, with his cheeks flushed, his face glistened with moisture, and a few tea leaves stuck to his temple, he possessed a peculiar kind of charm.