Oh no! My grandmother made me shoulder the responsibility for eight households!

Chapter 586 Annihilation Strike

In Tongtian City, the streets were bustling with people.

An old man selling candied hawthorns hoisted a bundle of straw covered with candied hawthorns onto his shoulder and pushed his way forward with the flow of people.

As he squeezed through the intersection, a young fortune teller at a nearby stall suddenly stood up and shouted at him:

"Uncle Liu! How's business today?"

The old man switched the bundle of straw to another shoulder:

"Not bad, not bad, we've sold over twenty skewers."

He licked his lips. "Is your husband better yet?"

"Alright, alright!" the young man patted his chest.

"My wife said that the hawthorn cake you gave me last time was really effective; it stopped her cough after eating it."

An older woman passing by overheard this and turned to chime in:

"Hawthorn cake can cure coughs? Grandpa Liu, what is your hawthorn cake made of?"

Grandpa Liu grinned: "It's a secret recipe, not to be shared."

"You're just bragging. Your recipe is just two extra spoonfuls of sugar."

"Hey! Two spoonfuls of sugar are also part of the recipe!"

The three men were chatting animatedly when a young man carrying a sword passed by and glanced in their direction.

Grandpa Liu noticed the sword tassel at his waist and suddenly said:

"Hey, young man, you've become a terrestrial immortal?"

The young man paused, scratching his head somewhat embarrassedly:

"It hasn't been long since the breakthrough."

"Not bad, not bad, young and promising." Grandpa Liu gave him a thumbs up.

"When I was your age, I was still stuck in the Grandmaster realm."

The young fortune teller next to him chimed in:

"That's right. These days, you can bump into anyone on the street who's a celestial being. You wouldn't have dared to even imagine that a hundred years ago."

"A hundred years ago?" The aunt waved her hand.

"I wouldn't have dared to imagine this fifty years ago! My son just broke through to the level of a terrestrial immortal last month and came back to show off for three days."

I ran into the three of them while I went out to buy soy sauce, and I was listless all day afterward.

"Hahaha!"

"Xiao Liu, aren't you about to break through too? When?"

The young fortune teller lowered his voice: "It'll be soon, within the next two months. I'll treat you to a meal then!"

As they were talking, the ground suddenly shook.

It's not heavy, it feels like someone has turned over underground.

Grandpa Liu shook the bundle of straw in his hand twice, and two candied hawthorns fell off and hit the ground with a "thud," breaking into two pieces.

The young fortune teller grabbed the table, causing one of the divination stick containers to tip over, scattering bamboo sticks all over the table.

The three of them looked up at the sky at the same time.

"What happened?"

"An earthquake?"

"I don't know."

The people on the street stopped and looked at each other.

A woman holding a child squatted down and hugged the child in her arms, while a peddler carrying a load put down his load and looked up at the sky.

In the direction of the Tower of Babel, the clouds seemed to have been hit by something, suddenly parting to reveal a small patch of hazy light at the top of the tower.

Grandpa Liu bent down, picked up the two pieces of candied hawthorn, and wiped them with his sleeve.

"It's not broken, it's still edible."

The young fortune teller ignored him, staring at the direction of the Tower of Babel for a long time before muttering, "Something's not right."

"Something's not right?"

"That light—" he squinted, "is brighter than before."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Zhang Yiyuan was standing on the city wall of Tianyuan City talking to his deputy.

"...The formation on the west side of the city needs to be reinforced with another layer—"

Before he could finish speaking, the bricks beneath his feet suddenly trembled.

He swayed forward half a step and grabbed the battlement for support.

The lieutenant fared even worse, collapsing onto the ground with a thud and looking up in a daze: "City Lord??"

Zhang Yiyuan ignored him, looked up at the Tower of Babel, and then his pupils suddenly contracted.

"What is that?"

From the direction of the top of the Tower of Babel, a grayish-black thing was emerging from the clouds, like a snake poking its head out of the mud.

It fell silently, not fast, but the oppressive feeling could be felt from hundreds of miles away.

The air felt heavy, as if something was pressing down on it, making it difficult to even breathe.

People across the entire continent felt an inexplicable chill running down their heads, like being doused with a bucket of ice water from behind in the dead of winter.

"Lord! What is that?" The lieutenant scrambled to his feet, his face pale.

Zhang Yiyuan pursed his lips tightly, his fingers gripping the edge of the battlement: "Don't panic."

"But--"

"I told you not to panic." Zhang Yiyuan's expression was solemn, and his voice echoed throughout Tianyuan City.

"All cultivators within the city at the Celestial Immortal level or above, prepare for battle!"

"Yes……"

Dozens of beams of light instantly illuminated the city and converged on the city wall.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Southern Wilderness.

When the King of Ten Thousand Demons rushed out of the palace, he was shirtless, his hair was disheveled, and he wasn't even wearing shoes.

He looked up at the northern sky, and the honest smile that usually graced his face vanished completely.

"Someone come here!"

Two demon generals scrambled over, crying, "Your Majesty!"

"Send the order: all those with cultivation levels above Celestial Immortal are to immediately assemble in Tongtian City." The voice of the King of Ten Thousand Demons was urgent and deep.

"Run! Run as fast as you can!"

"yes!"

The two demon generals turned and ran.

The King of Ten Thousand Demons took a deep breath and suddenly roared towards the north, the sound causing the surrounding palaces to vibrate.

"Young Master Lin!! Hang in there!!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Northern Desert.

In the main hall of the Flame Empire's palace, Lin Nianhuo, Lin Nianlang, and Lin Niangu looked solemnly towards the Central Plains.

They then exchanged a glance, tore through space, and disappeared from their spot.

In the imperial palace of the Dayan Dynasty, Zhao Kun kicked open the door to the imperial study.

"Issue the decree! All those with the cultivation level of Celestial Immortal or above must proceed to Tongtian City immediately! No delays allowed!"

"Your Majesty! It's over in the East Sea—"

"Put the East China Sea matter aside!" Zhao Kun said without turning his head. "Put everything else aside for now!"

Dongshan Villa.

Lin Nian'er and Liu Ruyan looked at the sky in the direction of Zhongzhou, and neither of them spoke.

After a few breaths, Liu Ruyan suddenly asked:

"Is it the Tower of Babel?"

"Um."

"That's fine then." Liu Ruyan withdrew her gaze, her tone flat and indifferent.

"Your father is there, don't panic."

Lin Nian'er gripped the sword hilt tighter: "Mother, aren't you worried?"

Liu Ruyan glanced at Lin Nian'er, and the corners of her mouth curved slightly:

"What's the use of worrying? Your dad may seem unreliable, but he's actually more dependable than anyone else."

"Besides, if something really happens to him, our presence would only cause trouble. We might as well stay home and wait."

Lin Nian'er paused for a moment, then slowly loosened her grip on the sword hilt.

She took a deep breath and sheathed her sword.

"Then I'll wait here."

Liu Ruyan didn't say anything more and turned to walk into the house.

As I reached the door, I paused for a moment, and very lightly glanced up at the patch of gray-black light.

Then she stepped over the threshold and closed the door.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Deep within the void, the Emperor of Annihilation stared intently at the figure still sitting cross-legged atop the Tower of Babel.

He was too calm, so calm that he didn't seem like someone facing a fatal blow.

Emperor Miesheng suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

His fingers gripped the Destruction Gun tightly, and he muttered to himself with a grim expression:

"What are you pretending for? You're just a beginner! Do you think you can withstand this attack?"

No one answered him. The figure at the top of the Tower of Babel remained motionless, as if he didn't take this devastating attack seriously at all.

Emperor Annihilation suddenly had a thought—this attack might not be enough.

He was startled when the thought popped into his head.