The Vanished Spine

Xie Qingfa had actually believed from the very beginning that it couldn’t have been the work of the underworld officials. No matter how the young girl had died, the soul collectors were merely fulfilling their duty, unlike the case with the Kong family, where vengeful spirits had come to seek retribution. Therefore, there was no need for incense offerings. It was just that when he and the Special Division arrived, the whole building was unusually tidy, and the room was saturated with the scent of incense, yet they couldn’t detect any sweetness in the aroma, which led to their suspicions.

Xie Qingfa was on the mountain.

Upon hearing Jing Shang’s answer, Peng Xiang—though not quite understanding—immediately let out a shriek, fully displaying the power of infatuation.

Seeing Yingnai and Peng Xiang, Chisaori seemed to glimpse hope. She rattled off a torrent of words, and when she finished, looked at the two with eager anticipation.

Ji Ya’s palm, once open, gradually clenched; her vacant eyes slowly began to brim with gloom and poison.

Xian Guyong took off her glasses and wiped her sweat-soaked eyes. Teleporting such a massive cruise ship from outside Japanese waters was no simple feat; it had consumed half the magical energy she had stored within.

Riaby pondered for a moment, apparently understanding. Her delicate face flushed instantly, and with a coy glance at Zhang Shan, she said nothing more.

“Who am I up against in the next round?” Zhang Shan had already stripped off his shirt, revealing the muscles beneath—robust and powerful.

Everyone, save for Liu Xiang and Hu Yifei, was thoroughly intoxicated, collapsing into a tangled heap, laughter shaking the branches like blossoms in the wind.

Lin Yuhan knew well that to clash with Conan Xing now would mean certain death. Not only could he not withstand the blow, but it would also plunge him into a dangerously passive position.

Cuiwei nodded. “Alright, we’ll wait for you outside.” With that, she left the studio and walked toward the offices of Luo Mingyou and Li Minwei, the bosses of Lianhua Film Company.

Just as Su Chen was convinced he was doomed, he was astonished to see a figure leap forward, shielding him from the deadly strike of the divine-level opponent, and desperately entangling that formidable enemy.

As she spoke, Susan reached out, touching the thick helmet atop Zhou Yi’s head. Though she knew she couldn’t possibly glimpse his true face in such circumstances, Zhou Yi instinctively turned away, evading her hand.

It was the captain’s voice. Groaning, he groped around on the ground until he found his shield, then slowly crept toward another figure. Only when he touched a piece of scorching iron did he exhale in relief, half-kneeling on the ground.

“If we hadn’t come, would we be waiting to bring a grandson home in a couple of days?” Jin Mama entered the room with a stern face.

Determined to act, Lin Feng, despite his grave injuries, released half of his remaining strength outward, manipulating his energy to distract the enemy, seizing the chance to chase after Dong Wu and the others.

“President Wang, I believe I’ve managed the company fairly well. Though we’re not on par with the big three, among second-tier artist teams, we’re undoubtedly leading,” Hong Shengcheng declared in a deep voice.

The next moment, when he lifted his gaze to Wu Guangsheng and Weng Zhiling, his eyes instantly turned cold as ice.

The Seoul Transportation Bureau began deploying large numbers of officers to maintain order, but what baffled them was that these long lines of young people, filling both sidewalks, didn’t seem crowded at all. It wasn’t like a frenzy for celebrities; rather, it resembled a mass gathering, as if everyone had stopped to rest and socialize.

And so, as Song Ji-hyo stepped out of the car, he immediately demanded hot coffee, making his intentions perfectly clear.

“We…” I hadn’t even finished saying those impossible words before I fainted once again.