(150) It Is Only Fitting That the Wronged One Judge the Sinner

"Spare me! My flesh doesn't taste good! Have mercy..." Liu Xi's wails were snatched away by the wind the moment they left her lips. She scanned her surroundings, but there was no one to save her; unable to catch her breath, she fainted from sheer terror.

Liang Zuan dove from the sky, closing the distance to the ground as his sharp phoenix talons lunged toward Liu Xi. She struggled desperately, but it was in vain; the white phoenix snatched her up in a single stroke.

The department leaders who had rushed to the scene witnessed this exact moment. They were all members of the Martial Arts Association, including the Association President, Zhou Hongyuan, and his grandson, Zhou Fang, who had also arrived. Following them appeared the elderly man leaning on a cane who had been speaking with Chu Feng just moments before.

His physique was formidable, truly monstrous in its strength, yet he had been defeated by Yue Lianxi in a single move—it was simply inconceivable.

The reason he burned through all his threads of mental energy every time, leaving only a tiny fraction for contingencies, was not to appear extravagant or magnanimous.

He knew well that the Jade Emperor was, in fact, a figure deified by that pathetic excuse for an emperor, Emperor Zhenzong of Song. Zhenzong had done something truly outrageous: despite paying annual tributes to the north and governing in utter ruin, he had the audacity to perform the Feng Shan sacrifice at Mount Tai.

At this moment, he burned his blood essence and his spirit, gathering the vital energy of three thousand elites, feeling an incomparable surge of power.

The captain of the guards remained silent. He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and tears swirled in his eyes.

Compared to the first four realms, the fifth barrier—perhaps due to a qualitative transformation—was estimated to consume 375,000 threads of mental willpower.

As the voice faded, the sycophants surrounding them chimed in immediately. Hearing this, the Fairy of Poetry gently wiped the tears from the corners of the Fairy of Clouds' eyes, then gave a soft cough and began to recite the verses written on the paper.

Since the other party had activated the bounty and posted the mission on the dark web, it was a dead end unless he died.

He had finally encountered the Black Feather Crystal Emperor; it would be utterly ridiculous to just give up on it so easily.

The thrusters extinguished, and a parachute suddenly deployed from the missile, slowly lowering it to the ground.

"I need to go see Old Gao. If you can't hold on, go sleep in the car for a while; we'll have our hands full over the next few days," Liu Hai said, setting aside these strange thoughts.

Without another word, he hurried off. His demeanor had lost all its former detachment, and with his gaunt, bony frame, he looked like a starving tiger searching for prey, exuding a fierce and sinister aura even as he walked away.

However, Yan Chutian smiled to himself, unaware that when the orb and pillar of light in his hands shot up to connect with the other beam, many of the Northern Region disciples gave him eerie, gloating smiles.

Zi Xuan’s figure arrived in a blink. Long Hao had already stood up; he knew, of course, that in such a situation, escape was impossible.

Rumors, however, remained rumors. At the very least, not even Yan Chutian had ever seen a Heavenly-grade Crystal Core, nor had he heard of anyone from the other seven veins obtaining one.

I suspected earlier that these victims might actually suffer from Stockholm Syndrome. If that is the case, gathering evidence will be extremely difficult; even with Yang Jingjing’s full assistance, it may not be easy to build a complete chain of evidence.

The appearance of cracks made the external attacks even more frantic. This relentless onslaught caused the fissures to spread until, finally, a wide breach split open.

She had expected him to be angry with her, but in the end, he acted as if nothing had happened, which took her by surprise.

Xuan Yuanhao prepared to let his soldiers have a full meal, intending to charge down the mountain in one go and break through the encirclement.

Feng Pingzhong did not even draw a weapon; his broad, sweeping strikes left Jun Yi'ao in constant peril.