The meaning was plain enough: Wei Zhao would decide.

The God of Thieves could not help but feel a deep sense of powerlessness.

With this, his dignity had truly been ground underfoot for all to see.

To be honest, Wei Zhao was somewhat surprised himself at this moment.

He did not know precisely what arrangements the Track's Lord God had in mind for him, but he at least retained a measure of self-awareness.

As a chess piece, he might indeed hold no small value for this Lord God of the Track, but no player at the board would ever truly hand over the power of choice to the piece itself...

Already aboard the freighter with Song Qiu, bathed in the light of a full moon in the sky and preparing to tidy up this hunting ground before him, Li Junyi turned his head to look at that enormous steel leviathan from the last century, then at the two fishing boats he had brought along this time in the distance, and his expression turned somewhat listless.

That gaze from heaven and earth instantly sent Walong floating on air, giving him the delightful sense that what did it matter if one was an ordinary man—he could still have a demon firmly in his grip.

First-year high schoolers were the last to return to campus; the second- and third-years had long since formally begun classes. Xu Su trudged across the school grounds, laboriously lugging her things.

Attack them? These imperial guards were slack in their vigilance, to say nothing of the fact that once night fell they either collapsed into deep sleep or gathered in crowds to gamble—not a shred of soldierly bearing about them.

What Xu Su did not know was that on many a night, Zhou Mochen's car had been parked outside No. 1 High School. When she would not come out at his call, he would sit beyond the school gate gazing at the teaching building, wondering which block, which classroom Xu Su was studying in just then.

"The old man is ruthless enough to seal you with such a method. He must be waiting for the right moment to turn you into a puppet.

Before she could finish, Dao Long cast Luo Qing a glance and walked calmly into the old castle without a word.

She scrubbed at her tears haphazardly with her sleeve, shot Xu Su one more furious glare, and ran off.

The weather was too hot, and few students were willing to drink hot water. Xu Su, however, was used to it—only she was terribly thirsty just now, and waiting for the water to cool was a considerable trial.

After hanging up the phone, Yang Jingshan still could not master the excitement in his heart; his hands trembled without cease.

Watching Huaxia's aircraft in the sky, Yue immediately readied surface-to-air missiles, tanks, and other defenses, then contacted the Huaxia side to ask what Huaxia meant by this.

Tomorrow would be the moment the first wave of the beast tide arrived. Yang Hao told the NPCs to conserve their strength, for he knew nothing of the strength of the enemies they were about to face.

For the moment she did not hold back either, and sent the budgerigar flying with a single slap. Then she sat bolt upright, looked at the budgerigar she had flung to the floor, and showed not the slightest inclination to console it—instead launching straight into a torrent of reproach.

His own father was even more pitiable—but who knew it? And what of the man who had been framed by that ungrateful wretch—what must he be thinking?

Besides, he was, after all, a champion contender. He did not mind admitting to doing business, and doing a bit of promotion and publicity was no problem either, but personally handling this sort of sales work was not quite fitting—he still had to consider the dignity of Lu Shu and Lin Xun'er.

"My lord is broad of heart and benevolent of nature—I am lost in admiration! Right, then, I had best keep quietly to my own little plot of land."

"What in the world is a Usami-chan?" Yehe asked, bewildered, utterly at a loss as to what this Usami-chan business was.

Ning Que had never paid Jiang Qiuzhou and Li Ruyu any mind, having assumed it was merely some local entanglement. A declining clan like the Xu family—Ning Que truly had never taken them seriously.

At this moment, one could speak neither well of the emperor nor ill of him; best to listen more and speak less, lest disaster come out of one's mouth.

Ruth had been feeling rather miserable, but hearing such shameless words from Yang Shang, she almost wanted to laugh—yet laughing would hardly suit the atmosphere, so she had to hold it in. The result, however, made her expression all the more abstract, and Ruth could feel her own awkwardness plainly. After shooting Yang Shang a white-eyed glare, she hurriedly turned her head away.