The Ghost King Weeps for His Delicate Darling (8)

Hua Mi was exceptionally beautiful, and her nature was of the obedient and well-behaved type. Cheng Yi had noticed this when he visited her last time, so it was no surprise that he would harbor ulterior motives toward her.

"Host, he is using mental manipulation on you, trying to make you admire him and draw close to him."

Hua Mi did not need the system to tell her what he was doing.

Cheng Yi seemed extremely confident in his control techniques, certain that Hua Mi would be unable to escape.

He trapped her in a corner, one hand braced against the wall.

Several common thugs wielding sharp weapons nearby, seeing a mercenary stagger back, sneered and seized the opportunity to slash their blades forward.

Despite the intense pain from the chain locked around her waist and abdomen, Miao Yi, flying through the air, still wore an expression of happiness on her face.

"An ancient divine artifact..." Immortal Lord Tianhuan’s expression changed drastically. The power of nirvana radiating from that golden luster was too formidable; it was not a power belonging to an immortal, but something that had transcended the immortal realm. Only an ancient divine artifact could contain such immense intent.

Zhuo Qing was about to leave, but he noticed Bai Feishuang’s gaze suddenly shift toward the distance, and he could not help but pause. Theoretically, Bai Feishuang should not have displayed such impolite behavior. Zhuo Qing followed her gaze, yet he saw nothing.

"What do you want from me?" Hearing his manic laughter, I knew Li Hao had lost his mind. His last shred of sanity had vanished; standing before me was a hundred-percent madman.

Clearly, someone was controlling Sha Huaiyu’s Wind-Thunder Blast at this moment, and it was highly likely that this person was using the weapon to fight others.

I stood up and looked toward the criminal police team, but they all turned away, not daring to meet my eyes.

"Don't tell me you're one of them! My eyes aren't blind!" Having said that, the Blue Dragon didn't even wait for the Red Dragon's reaction before slamming on the gas and speeding away.

"I am right here in the room. If you have any more questions, you can come find me." Du Fan showed no reaction to what I said. I returned to Forensic Laboratory No. 2. Having not been here for some time, the place actually felt different.

A red light flickered in the mountain monster’s single eye as it stared coldly at Zhang Mingjie and Chang Wu, clearly dissatisfied that these two "seeds" had escaped its attack and ready to strike again at any moment.

Facing Ye Feng’s "Huaxia Cannon," Benalio didn't even have time to react before he was pierced through, the ball flying straight into the goal behind him; he hadn't been taken seriously at all.

I am not dead! No, to be precise, my physical body has been destroyed, and only a wisp of my remnant soul remains in this world. That makes sense; under such an attack, even a god would fall. That I have not had my body and spirit utterly extinguished is already the greatest of fortunes.

But things were different now. The South District and the West District had fallen out, and the former no longer purchased liquor from the latter; the North District had quietly followed suit.

Xiaoyao rode the wind, stepping in the mysterious Seven-Star Pattern as he ran with abandon. Whether on the peaks of mountains, the lowlands of the earth, or beside ancient trees, he left his shadow across the four corners of the world.

However, all of his actions were in the eyes of Lord Ying. For these past days, he had been keeping a close watch on all movements in Nanyang, and he had already ordered his most elite troops to target the high-ranking officials. The moment Lu Bu made a move, they would deal a fierce blow.

Just as Ye Feng was daydreaming about buying skills and slaughtering his way through the field, the changes on the pitch brought his attention back to the game.

Nine hundred million US dollars—they were completely unable to pay. It was clear that Li Zitao was insatiably greedy, like a snake trying to swallow an elephant.

The embroidered threads of the bell fell to the floor, a vibrant red mass cast aside. She felt much lighter now; beneath her thin, cicada-wing-like inner skirt, a pair of exquisite embroidered shoes with thick soles were revealed.

It pressed both hands against its own throat, strangling itself tightly. But after a while, it realized nothing was happening and lowered its head to look twice.

After all, if one wanted to obtain the physical data of martial artists, the competition committee's hospital was certainly the most convenient shortcut—at least every contestant had been drawn blood, supposedly for blood records to prevent the use of banned substances. This matter had not aroused any suspicion, and everyone had been quite cooperative.