Is the same person as me.

The village chief had been taken away, yet the rest of the villagers still hadn’t grasped what was happening. The officials from the Special Bureau all wore grave expressions; no matter what the villagers asked, they refused to answer. Those who tried to leave were sternly rebuked by the Special Bureau’s people.

The elderly of Luya Village, unfamiliar with such displays, were generally obedient out of fear of the authorities, though some who had studied elsewhere were naturally less compliant. For these types, the Special Bureau usually—

“Break it for me!” Xia Xun roared in his heart. Under the impact of his energy, the barrier trembled. The focus on livelihood construction was the basic outline of the new government policy, shifting the Ming dynasty’s administrative priorities from external expansion to stabilizing internal affairs, thus forming a goal of national strength and prosperity.

Heaven above, do all emperors have this conceited flaw? Once they’ve decided on something, no matter how absurd, no one may go against their decree.

He was nearly frantic, looking up at Qin Yan, and then down at the ultimate killing move solidifying before him. Time waited for no one, and as each moment passed, his anxiety grew.

Qin Hongshuang felt her whole worldview was about to be overturned. She could hardly believe that the usually taciturn Yi Xingyun was actually a half-step Sword Spirit. That Qin Yan, who never showed off, could withstand a thousand moves from Hua Shao without injury. Her head ached, and she had no idea what to do.

Zhang Zi’an secretly praised—truly Old Tea, his words flawless. In ancient times, emperors had to be coaxed, never confronted head-on. Old Tea clearly understood this well.

“Alright, let me see the surveillance first.” Zhang Zi’an gave the first command, offhand.

She, fuming, ran to the living room, pressed the remote for the heavy iron gate, and hurried back to her room to resume sleeping. Not long after, the knocking at the gate resumed. Oh, right—the gate hadn’t been opened yet. Half-awake, she stumbled to the living room and casually unlocked the gate.

Even the endless sand dunes, stretching for miles, were obliterated, transformed into bottomless craters.

Of course, if not for Lu Qianqian’s threat to sever their relationship for a week, Lu Degao wouldn’t have agreed.

Long Tianwei’s expression was visibly flustered. Unwilling to give up, he quickly threw two more spheres, one after another, at the Killing Emperor, then retreated several steps and suddenly dove to the ground.

He saw the expression on Babo’s face gradually soften; his body stopped trembling, and the cold sweat ceased. In the system’s task bar, a check mark appeared beside Babo’s name.

Suddenly, Yan Luoniang heard a faint buzzing, not the whispers of the villagers, but drifting from the direction of the Jing River. She listened carefully and confirmed it was the voice of the River God—not only she heard it, but so did everyone else.

“Two million!” Night Blade’s brows furrowed; he spoke coldly, his voice echoing throughout the auction house, heard by everyone present.

At this moment, he finally unlocked another layer of the seal. Half the reason was his own desire to do so since arriving at the River God’s temple, though he’d lacked the opportunity; the other half was the pull and stimulation from Long Mei’s twin swords.

Kaesar laughed, Ferguson laughed, too. Keen, facing his old master, would certainly be filled with fury—did you even need to ask?

The high-ranking holy-level warriors of the Night Elf Legion struck directly, pressing the dark magicians into a desperate defense.

“Four million! This pill is of great use to our Golden Lion Clan.” Before the smithing sect cultivator could finish his words, a voice suddenly called out from a private room, interrupting him.

“Though it’s a pity I can’t kill you one-on-one at the Divine Slaying Conference, now that so many cultivators at the Out-of-Body stage are joining forces to refine you—even if you die, you have reason to be proud.” Lin Lang thought to himself, but his hand never slowed; another finger tapped, raising the cauldron’s temperature once more.