An elemental body? Destructive blood? Or spirit burning? Although Juque wasn't exceptionally gifted, he was a top student, and his grasp of the theory behind the occult was solid. In a very short time, several possibilities had already crossed his mind.
But none of them were things ordinary low-level psychics could master. In the world of the supernatural, you needed to be at least a third- or fourth-ring expert to blow yourself up.
Was Deputy Director Dailun, who had always disguised himself as an ordinary person, an expert?
Juque didn't rule out the possibility. But compared to the Empire sending a psychic of the third ring or higher to the Commonwealth as a spy, he thought it was more likely the man had hidden a bomb in his belly.
"A Desperate Virus bomb? That's entirely possible." As the thought occurred to Yang Mingzhao, he lunged forward and pinned the man against the balcony. He ignored the scorching heat covering Dailun like a layer of lava and pressed his hand directly against the back of the man's head.
At that moment, the impact gauntlet on his right hand had vanished, replaced by a delicate finger sleeve that fit snugly over his index finger.
"Seal!" Juque said in a low voice.
His judgment had been correct. All the flames covering Deputy Director Dailun vanished in an instant, and his body temperature dropped completely.
So it really was a living bomb. Yang Mingzhao gave a cold snort.
Then Deputy Director Dailun turned around trembling, one hand clutching the towel around his waist. A flash of alarm quickly crossed his eyes, but he soon forced a fawning smile and held out his hand. "Director Yang? I—I've met you before."
Director Yang? Yang Mingzhao realized that it was quite reasonable for someone on the presidential