Chapter 142: The Villagers’ Apology (Please Subscribe! Please Vote for Us with Your Monthly Tickets!)

"I beg your pardon? Where does this come from?"

Naruto looked genuinely surprised, his brows knitting together as confusion flickered in his eyes.

The workers exchanged glances, appearing visibly awkward. After a moment of silence, they finally summoned the courage to speak.

"Well... we are sorry, Lord Naruto... for the way we treated you in the past, yet now you are helping us so much."

Their voices were low, heavy with deep remorse.

"Of course I have. I couldn't just bring people in and expect them to work without pay, could I? I asked them to conduct some market research to prepare for the company's future operations!" Liu Meimei said nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Besides, it was not the first time Nangong Changyun had used this method; he had employed it once before, and the results had been surprisingly effective.

As for the guests' losses, the management felt that providing them with convenient accommodations—entirely free of charge—was the right thing to do. They were welcome to stay for as many days as they liked, provided they promised not to post about the incident at the hotel online.

Suddenly, the group of cultivators fell silent. They continued their journey in quiet, the atmosphere turning stiff, yet no one stepped forward to mediate. The situation had reached a point where a few words could no longer resolve it.

"I'm not tormenting you. Work hard for me, and once you have completed your third year, I will certainly teach you!" Fang Li promised with a beaming smile. He always respected those with a burning thirst for knowledge, believing it to be the best way to unlock their potential.

Yet, upon closer reflection, he felt something was wrong. He knew clearly that he had never encountered this before, and there was no memory of it in his mind. It was an impossibility.

The political commissar, the chief of staff, Huang Zhongde, Staff Officer Wu, the guards, and the signalmen all gathered around the pile of spoils—rifles, machine guns, grenade launchers, mortars, and ammunition crates—discussing them excitedly and handling the gear with great affection.

"Don't worry, no one is going to die!" Wang Xi struck the enter key on the computer with the final pebble, and the livestream began.

The singing stopped, and everyone turned to stare at Old Guo in astonishment. By now, the alcohol had worn off, and Old Guo stared blankly at the crowd, his lips moving as he muttered something unintelligible.

Lin Tian could not afford a moment's rest; he lunged toward the Demon God's guard. The seal on the Demon God was loosening, and he dared not delay for even a second.

The ground beneath the Demon Owl shattered instantly, and the earth-shattering force of the punch drove him out like a mole.

"It is not your fault. I believe time will prove that you are different from him," Fei Yinan comforted him.

If one were to truly fill those meridians, their internal energy would be the strongest among their peers, and the technique would grant them access to incredibly formidable methods.

To the world, he was a hero, but to an aging father, the sentiment was entirely different.

Zhang Mingkai stared blankly at the three purple characters representing his name and score. However, being a man of great composure, he did not display his emotions on the surface like Liu Suifeng.

This was the largest newspaper in Boston, and the front page featured a glowing report praising the Home of Learning, covering its achievements from multiple perspectives.

The leader recalled that the strange sensation in his chest and abdomen had begun to subside after being scorched by the spirit fire, leading him to speculate that these monsters must fear fire.

Although Cuihua longed to follow Yan Daoxing to see other worlds, she ultimately dared not defy his instructions and could only nod in agreement.

Just as Ji Weiwei was waiting for Wang Fang to speak up for her, Wang Fang's phone suddenly rang.

The leader of the Thunder Gang looked down to see a steel rod, as thick as a thumb, protruding from his front shoulder, having run straight through from his back. It had missed his heart by a hair's breadth, narrowly saving him from certain death.