At the same time

Gao Mo smiled but offered no explanation. In any case, this prince would soon learn the truth for himself.

He glanced nonchalantly at Roy and said, “I remember you.”

“Who are you?” Roy asked warily.

Gao Mo’s lips curled. “You don’t need to know who I am, but I can tell you this—I want you to draw your father, the emperor, out. If he refuses, then find a way to make him come.”

“W-what?” Roy’s eyes widened.

When they arrived at the slave market, the streets were full of people wearing tags, selling themselves. All were gaunt, their faces sallow, dressed in rags—some even without so much as a scrap to cover them. Some sold themselves, others sold their families. Everywhere, numbness reigned, the silence unbroken by joy. As for the future… for them, there was none at all.

A user named “Tyrant Evil Eye” sent a voice message. Xiao Xuan, curious, clicked to listen.

Yan Kong extended his communicator for the machine to scan, and his basic information immediately appeared.

In a single instant, Li Bumian transcended the universe’s speed limit and teleported in front of Long Aotian, who hadn’t time to react.

Aimo flew swiftly through the sky, glimpsing many villages scattered across the grasslands. Few lights shone in these villages; it was wartime, after all. Most of the orcs had migrated north, leaving only a handful of settlements behind.

With Madam Huang leading the way, tossing responsibility for the dogs to him, the other women quickly followed suit. By the next day, the number of children at Old Street Kindergarten had soared past a hundred.

The Abbot of the Supreme Purity Monastery gazed solemnly at the newcomer. He knew at once—this was a messenger raised by the Lord of the Forest of Swords, born solely for delivering messages. Eyes had been gouged out, the nose hollowed, ears cut away, and the face smoothed by forbidden arts. All that remained was the ability to hear and speak—nothing more.

Seeing the two of them so affectionate, acting like newlyweds, while she herself lay abandoned on the cold marble tiles, uncared for, she bit her molars in bitter resentment.

Kainisel roared furiously, “Damn you, Temple of Wisdom! When did I ever provoke you? Why are you after me?” He had already guessed that survival today was unlikely, and so he cried out in defiance.

Zhan Mus appeared first with his agent, Wu Jing. Both wore suits and broad smiles, the very picture of confidence and vigor, immediately drawing a frenzy of camera flashes from the press.

Heaven and earth trembled in an instant. Shockwaves spread from the two palms, splitting the ground with deep, jagged lines. Even the endless silver radiance of the sky recoiled before their power.

“What is it? As long as I can do it, I’ll give it my all!” Stone thumped his chest in earnest.

The true Holy Son of Zhenluo was already on the edge of madness. His spear blazed a path, a pillar of light bursting from the weapon, transforming into a crimson sun that pierced the galaxy, meeting Bi Yuntao’s twin-yi sword formation head-on.

At that moment, chaos erupted above the village—clearly, Ziling had arrived with a large force. Immediately, Ziying’s figure flashed as she soared up from the underground settlement.

Within this secret realm, the formation was so subtle and complex that it sent a chill down one’s spine. Who could have set such a hidden trap here?

A thought flickered through her mind. By rights, everything in the world maintains a balance: positive and negative, light and dark, entry and exit. Since Ziying had found a way in, surely there must also be a way out.

“We await your command.” The three legion commanders—Yang Fang, Zhang Yi, and Hu Feiyun—clasped their fists and responded in unison.

“Hey! You’re changing the subject!” Serfia raised her voice. Though it was break time, a few staff members in the operations office glanced over at General Jue Chen and Yu Si. Still, knowing how close Serfia was to the general, no one thought much of it.