Volume One, Chapter 43: Ascension to Divinity—Wang Junjie... Perfect High Note!!

Just as a thread of worry began to spread through the audience, an unexpected turn of events unfolded. International superstar Adele, captivated by the lyrics displayed on the screen at the side of the stage, acted almost on instinct. She swiftly seized the microphone, and with her flawless pitch and commanding stage presence, she seamlessly joined in at the song’s soaring high notes.

Like a gentle breeze sweeping across stormy seas, she instantly propelled the song to a breathtaking climax. Her voice, in sharp contrast to Wang Junjie’s deep timbre, nonetheless blended in a harmony so natural it was almost unbelievable. The intertwining of their voices sparked a musical brilliance never before witnessed. This sudden collaboration was nothing short of magical…

Sensing something was wrong, Gu Changbei gently pressed her finger beneath the woman’s nose; her breathing was faint, nearly imperceptible. For some reason, she felt a compelling urge to hear his voice. She reached for her phone, intending to call Qin Mo, but before she could, her phone rang—it was Qin Mo calling her.

The Evil God plummeted from the sky, crashing onto the rooftop of a tall building. The tremendous impact shattered the surface, cracks spreading outward like a spider’s web in all directions.

As he fought, Xiao Yifeng unleashed the full power of the Nine Star Realms within him. At that moment, an eighth-tier divine beast swung its razor-sharp claws at the Sect Master of the Beast Emperor Sect, unleashing a terrifying aura.

At last, the Celestial Emperor had claimed the Celestial Empress, intent on marrying her and making her his true wife.

Her cries failed to rouse him; she stumbled, nearly slipping on something hard beneath her foot. Picking it up, she saw it was a syringe with a little medicine left inside. Setting it aside, she hurried out to call the doctor.

A searing pain shot through her hand, and she abruptly recalled the scene when she had once trampled Gu Yiran underfoot. Was there truly such a thing as karmic retribution in this world?

In the past two days, she had seriously considered: if she left the Pearly Splendor Group, she would be nothing at all.

The gift had already been delivered, and as a first meeting present, Ning Wanxi had no choice but to accept it. She took it and opened the package—it was a bottle of American perfume, likely worth over a thousand dollars.

Fang Yan did not interrupt, nor did he explain why he had never heard the name before, waiting for her to continue.

“What did you say?” Xiao Yuanzhong stared in disbelief at the boy sitting properly at the table—his son. “Say that again?” With a loud smack, he slapped his chopsticks down on the edge of his bowl.

Xing Conglian felt his whole body heat up with Lin Chen’s gentle kiss, especially as Lin Chen’s quickened, shallow breaths brushed against his ear.

“Isn’t it impressive and grand?” Xiao Yun’er, assuming he was curious, smiled as she spoke.

If Qiao Sen knew what that old man was thinking, he might have crushed his skull underfoot and spat on it.

Witnessing all this, Mu Wenhua’s agitation faded into calm. She realized the only thing distinguishing true fans from mere spectators was their genuine love for Song Shengsheng.

The original letter had been personally delivered to the intended recipient by Chen Zhen. The copy sent to the Liu family emperor was merely a transcription. Thus, the Huo Weiyi group remained unaware that their secrets had been compromised and continued as planned.

What was really going on? Even with increased pressure, Liu Chuan still couldn’t penetrate the barrier. If he’d merely been repelled by some unknown force, he could accept it—he simply wasn’t strong enough to breach their defenses.

In a fleeting glance, he saw an old man lying in a hospital bed, filled with a sense of how unpredictable fate could be—life could change in an instant.

Li Cangyu was swept into a tight embrace. Had it really been that long? Hadn’t they just met in Shanghai not long ago?

Aboard the flying vessel, Tang Qianqian had gathered a group of thirty, making thirty-one with himself, forming an alliance so they could support each other in the finals. He served as the team’s captain.

He savored the gradual circulation of medicinal energy within, feeling the transformation wrought by the vast power of the elixir, and his skin grew more sensitive, able to distinctly perceive the flow of spiritual energy in the world outside.

“My young master, do you realize how chaotic Jinyang City has become lately? You came alone—if anything happened to you, how could I answer to the master?”

What he faced was the expanse of the heavens themselves! If the heavens had eyes, he would offer everything to that starry sky.

As expected, this old fellow was no good sort! But thinking about it, how could anyone who’d risen to Grand Elder be a benevolent soul?

Yet the scene she’d imagined did not appear—why was it her brother crouching there, clutching his head? And her benefactor? He only looked on at her brother with helpless resignation.

“Shut up!” Chen Xu had already gripped one of the broken bones and, ignoring Lu Tianfeng’s suffering, began resetting it.

Nan Feng had struck with real force; the iron rod not only broke Qian Yun’s right arm but also knocked him from his horse. Yet Qian Yun was truly fierce, for even gravely wounded he did not cease his attack, switching the blade to his left hand and swinging low and fast.

The Elder of Myriad Transformations mastered the fusion formation in only eight years and boasted of it all his life, yet Lin Feng, whose focus had not even been on formations, achieved the same in just five years. Had he devoted himself fully, he might have halved this time.

“Sister Dai said this: People should forget the future and remember the past. If you lose your past, then hold on to the present, for the present always becomes the past, while the future never will.” Hua Wu spoke softly.

Hearing this, I was nearly struck dumb. At that moment, I seriously doubted—was this old man insane, or just insane? Or perhaps, simply insane.

Feng Chenrui’s gaze was cold and sinister as he glared at Feng Huali, who felt a chill surge from his soles to his scalp, leaving him shivering uncontrollably.

I didn’t know when I fell asleep again that night. When I woke the next morning, the village chief was already knocking at the door. The innkeeper and I rose—breakfast was ready and plentiful, and there were dishes I’d never seen before, especially the porridge, which had a unique aroma.

“How can you say such things? These gifts were chosen for us by Third Sister—we’re only… only…” Wen Jingwan, unable to stand it, blushed as she tried to explain.

Everyone present understood that the descendant of the Martial Ancestor sought only one opponent: the Martial Lord.

As we left the hospital, many people breathed a sigh of relief—perhaps from fear of Old Tang.

He swept away his previous dispiritedness, like a lion provoked to fury, his pupils clouded with blood, both eyes red, his aura surging.

The axes and shovels were returned to the tool room. Yuan Bao and Tong Nian, each holding a large cup of orange juice, squatted together under the low bushes by the wall.