Chapter Eighty-Eight: The Modernist Literary Gene (6/10, seeking first subscriptions)

Because the graduate student surnamed Li, whom Huang Lin mentored during this period, was also someone who skipped the college entrance examination and went straight to graduate school.

But his level was appallingly poor; not to mention comparing with people like Chen Shangjun or Yi Zhongtian, he might not even measure up to an ordinary college freshman.

This had once been the butt of jokes in academic circles.

Zhang Peiheng immediately glared. “What? Talking behind my back? I did it for your own good! Back then I was the harshest critic of Huang Lin’s notes, and look, haven’t they still become an authority in literary theory now?”

The one.

At this moment, the young woman named Xu Qinghan on his shoulder also stopped struggling; even the mouth that had been biting his waist had unconsciously loosened. She had clearly noticed the two spiritual beasts closing in from front and rear.

Yet as soon as the swamp monster finished speaking, his body had already completely hardened, then dried out, turning into a heap of dust that drifted away in the wind.

Just so, these deities were in an extremely perilous state of slumber within eternal sleep. In order to survive, they accepted even the harshest conditions, pinning their hopes of escaping the covenant’s oppression on future changes. In truth, it was a delusion much like believing one could turn the tables at the last moment; once accepted, one would become helpless, sinking step by step into deeper and deeper mire.

Sasuke fell silent. On his handsome, cold face appeared an expression of disbelief. Whether what Yuzang said was true or not, it was enough to make his heart quake. If this was true, then who exactly was this guy?

The city lord called out to Chu Tian, then continued, “This poor daoist’s name is Xuanfeng. I was once a disciple of the Shangqing Maoshan Sect, and later an elder of Maoshan.”

He rubbed his nose; his expression gradually turned cold, and a glint of sharpness slowly surfaced in his eyes, refining itself little by little under the observation of his spiritual sense.

Though access here had been forbidden, fortunately the Mist Ninja did not rely on this single water source alone, so people’s normal lives were in fact unaffected.

At that moment, the entire Green Jade Mountain suddenly trembled violently, as if an earthquake had struck and the mountain was about to split apart.

“What, your imperial house, together with the Murong and Nangong clans, still can’t take down a force that has lost Duanmu Ling?” Liu Dali said casually with a slight lift of his head, looking as though he were not the least bit surprised.

To be more precise, it was not merely honor, a sense of achievement, compassion, self-respect, or the seven emotions and six desires—it even included the human way of thinking.

Daxi Ying thrust his palm backward and shoved her against the carriage wall. Yao Qingmu’s blade stabbed into empty air; by the time she withdrew it and struck again, Daxi Ying had already reversed the situation and snatched the dagger from her hand.

Fortunately, because he was precocious and quite steady for his age, even when faced with Lin Shenshen’s baffling yet astonishing words, his expression remained as composed as ever. He simply placed the identification card in her palm.

Likewise, that indifferent banter was somewhat cruel, utterly erasing everything between her and Han Chengchi.

Moreover, if one truly compared numbers, the creatures of the apocalypse were nowhere near as numerous as the plants of the apocalypse. So in the wild, aside from corpse beasts, the foremost killer was vegetation.

“I disagree!” A shout suddenly rang out, instantly cutting off Xue Xiaoni’s smug voice.

While others had snowball fights on snowy days, he had his classmates in his class drawing maps on the playground in the snow.

The birthday banquet continued normally. Afterward, Murong Feiming was no different, but Helian Heya no longer wanted to speak with him. In any case, he had his own opinions; whatever she said would be useless.

“You... you’re nothing but a thug!”

Xin Yu’s face flushed scarlet, and after being spoken to like that, the only words left in her mouth were those, over and over again.

A wave of dizziness swept through Gu Lanshan’s mind. Everything before her eyes blurred. It took a long while before she blinked, then blinked again, and finally looked at Shengshi, then at the so-called “soy sauce,” then back at Shengshi. She opened her mouth, but for a moment could not find words.

Old Madam Huang made no sound, only told her husband, “Put this away carefully. Use it sparingly, and it can last a full year. What will happen after a year, who can say?” Yet there was a hint of spirit returning to her voice.