Chapter 13140 — The Self-Detonating Ancient Mosquitoes

"Self-detonating ancient mosquitoes?!"

Everyone's face changed at once, and even Hu Suan's voice cracked: "Good heavens! There must be a hundred of them at least!"

On the other side, Chen Feng caught on: "Isn't this where we just came in? How did so many self-detonating ancient mosquitoes suddenly appear?"

The whole group was at a loss.

Strange as this place was, one thing they remembered clearly.

At the very least, when they had entered just now, this place had certainly not held so many self-detonating ancient mosquitoes.

To date, Voyager 3 had been aloft for three years. Three months ago, NASA received a complex image signal transmitted from Voyager 3—though contact with the probe was then lost. After a painstaking decoding, the single image they restored shocked the entire American authorities.

"I'm here to throw in my lot with President Cheng. Whatever President Cheng needs me to do, just say the word—even if it means braving boiling water and treading through fire, I'll do it!" I vowed, thumping my chest with an air of righteous fervor.

The Iranian side's doing so made the conjecture easy enough to credit; next, General Manager Hakan was to sound out the Crown Prince. Who would have guessed the Crown Prince would refuse to see him at all, sending back only the reply that the Crown Prince was not in Tehran.

He had succeeded in seizing control of the rhythm of battle, imposing his own style, playing to his own strengths. It left his opponent deeply frustrated: clearly he held the upper hand, so why was he checked at every turn?

What followed was to report to the company, and to the research institute as well—cellular regeneration and scar repair were made public in the blink of an eye, and the whole laboratory, professors and students alike, heard the news of the success.

And of the two, the mental method mattered most. Some esoteric martial arts, once divorced from their particular mental method, could not bring forth even half their power. This was no alarmist talk—it was simply the truth.

Many of the neutral elders and helmsmen present were likewise full of helplessness, yet none dared utter another word.

So long as one could follow Dong Dazhi, benefits would naturally be plentiful hereafter—and at the very least safety was assured. After all, behind Dong Dazhi stood a true god; though that true god might disdain to lift a hand, a single thought from a true god was enough to make many sell their lives for him.

Reasoning from one instance to the rest: if even a system as laughably low-grade as the Great Swordsman, in his own eyes, could open passages between different worlds, then did it not mean this world truly held invincible systems that could pulverize heaven, earth, and the very air? Or that traversing the myriad realms was no longer a dream—who knew, one day he might even run into a fellow traveler.

Lu Jingwen knew as well that Dong Dazhi's medical skill was in truth nothing extraordinary; to rashly accept the challenge would mean losing nine times out of ten.

On the reverse side, a gigantic centipede crawled out from the earth, its hundred legs writhing, claws and fangs bared; at its tip was an exceedingly horrific human-faced ghost mask, terrifying beyond measure.

That's right—the Dragon-Horn cultivator was no demon-kin, but of the dragon race. In ancient times, only after the great war between dragons and phoenixes did the demon-kin lineage come into being. Of course, that is not to say no demon-kin existed in the age of dragons and phoenixes; figures like Di Jun and Xi He existed in that age as well—it was merely that demon-kin had not yet been defined as such.

The strife of war had sharply thinned the spiritual energy above this abandoned continent, and coupled with the corruption of the demon race, not a single patch of sacred mountain or blessed land could be found in the north—nothing but rotted soil and an ever colder climate.

Gazing at that fiery crimson long whip that had all but spanned a distance of more than ten zhang, Lin Yun's pupils contracted slightly. He let out a slow breath, and just as the whip was about to reach the crown of his head, his body suddenly veered to the left.

Lord Baize of the Solar Palace had always been fond of two things: gossip and flattering the Golden Crow. And these two things, he had always felt, must never be done together—after all, his master, the great god Golden Crow, had nothing whatsoever to do with romantic gossip.

Only, regarding Di Jun's manner of doing things, Baize had always harbored a gripe he longed to voice: had he known it would come to this, why have done it in the first place?

"Grandfather, since you believe Ye Qinqin is Young Master Song's weakness, then Young Master Song must have sent men to guard her closely. How, then, are we to get our hands on Ye Qinqin?" Dongfang Zixuan said calmly.