MTL - Legend of Swordsman - Chapter 6357 Hope the Great

Gu Nianzhi had no idea how to get the aloof and handsome Major General to fall in love with her.

His eyes were dark and serious. “…Seduce me. If you can do it, I’m yours.”

Gu Nianzhi: “!!!”

Kaka: Huang Kai was the greatest hero of the Istanbul night, although he played only a little.Ancelotti: Huang Kai is a super genius, it's just too bad his body isn’t quite up to par.Maldini: Huang Kai is the most important player on the team. I suggest the club re-sign him for another five years.Barcelona: To sign Huang Kaiwen, we decided to demonstrate our sincerity by signing his cousin with an annual salary of one million euros. The veterinarians in Milan are no good; he won't get injured with us in Barcelona.Bayern Munich: We have the Divine Doctor!Huang Kaiwen, the biggest slacker in soccer.From slacking off every day, forced to make sporadic appearances, he ultimately was forced to become the team's savior.Football, anything is possible!

“I have to squander; otherwise, won’t it be a waste of my parent’s talent at earning money?” Hong Dali answers a reporter’s question matter-of-factly.

Just after the interview ends, Hong Dali opens the Great Prodigal System’s interface and looks at the various good stuff displayed in it. Stroking his chin, he mumbles to himself, “I just need to squander 200 billion yuan more to exchange for the blueprint of the core technology, Engine Destruction, found in the strongest humanoid mecha weapon, Neo Granzon. Looks like I’ll have to work harder!”

“I want to splurge! I want to squander!”

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

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