Chapter 145: A Perfect Counterattack—Is My Song Not Good Enough?

Li Yiwen was, in fact, shifting the goalposts. He deliberately ignored the moving melody and musical impact of the piece, piling on technical jargon simply to imply that the composition’s production was too simplistic for his refined tastes. At the same time, he branded the work as "cheaply produced."

It was much like the universal "4-5-3-6-2-5-1" chord progression in songwriting, a progression known to every musician.

As for Li Sinuo, during the fourth-period homeroom class on Monday, the head teacher stripped her of her position as class monitor and issued a stern disciplinary reprimand.

If he had to do it all over again, he would still make the same choice. To travel thousands of miles to find her, to be determined to bring her home regardless of the cost, and to stand fearlessly in the line of fire to shield her.

"Fine, have it your way. I'll head to the market in a bit to buy three ounces of meat, and we’ll cook up a pot of egg soup tonight with the eggs we’ve saved," Mother said, washing Jiang Sheng’s underwear in a basin.

"For the rest of my life, the wind and snow will be you, the mundane will be you, poverty will be you, splendor will be you, the tenderness in my heart will be you, and wherever my gaze falls, it will be you."

If he had to rely on Yun Jinxi to help him up just to cross the threshold of the Dragon Abyss Holy Mansion, what right would he have to talk about protecting her?

Hua Simeng woke from a nightmare, feeling as though her hands were still stained with blood, and screamed.

Judging by his father’s tone during their previous phone calls, aside from the concern that her background was too prestigious and that they might be punching above their weight, he had nothing but praise for her in every other regard.

"If I get pregnant, are you going to take responsibility and provide for the child?" A cunning, wicked glint sparkled in Xuan An'an’s eyes as she said this.

Seeing so many Buddha Kings and high monks present, she remained composed, and Buddha King Xuan Chuan felt a deep sense of admiration for her.

The dark, malevolent hands were veiled in a black-green mist that reeked of rot, likely laced with a deadly poison. Qing Feng let out a cold snort, channeling the Pure Clear Void Art—a genuine sect technique—through his meridians to unleash the Heavenly Dragon Palm.

"So you're their brother? Why are you covering your face?" The other hand reached out toward Da Le’s hair.

Just then, the Tank, hidden in the shadows, fired a shell into the sky. It exploded, scattering countless flakes of silver powder.

Wang Lei took off his sunglasses, revealing his triangular eyes, and clicked his tongue twice. As he shifted the camera angle downward, I instantly saw my younger sister, her hands bound behind her back and her mouth taped shut, kneeling on the ground.

Lin Su had long since lost her patience after all the fuss. Had it not been for the bitter blood and tears she had already endured to perfect her look, and the fact that it would be a waste to ruin the atmosphere now, she would have hiked up her skirt and started a brawl.

"You lot! All of you, turn around and move thirty feet away. This is a classified military matter; no eavesdropping allowed!" Lin Su put on a stern face, borrowing the authority of a tiger to intimidate the foxes.

There were still many countries and regions that had received nothing; China was among the awkward ten percent that had been left out.

If he wanted a decent life in the future, he had to eliminate Chen Shuo; only then would he have the leverage to challenge Wang Lei.

"You didn't even cover her with a quilt? Isn't that a bit excessive?" Lin Su clicked her tongue, took a look, and turned her head away.

Though Lone Battle the World did not know who Red Moon was, he had spent his life on the battlefield and only now understood that one should live each day carefully rather than chasing fame and fortune.

Zuo Jun suppressed the boiling spiritual energy within him while channeling the energy absorbed from the outside, pouring it into his Nether Meridians! He remained calm and methodical, without the slightest hint of chaos.

Although it was only a phantom image on the stone wall, one could still see that the Ancestor of Blood Souls was composed and relaxed, one hand raised to the sky as he let out a soft shout.

The next moment, the middle-aged man’s body flew just like the large horse before him, smashing violently into a shop on the side of the street, leaving his fate unknown.