The city had become a ghost domain.
A dim green vortex hung low in the sky, its deathly pull tugging at every wisp of yin energy and remnant soul. Thick black ice had frozen over the ground.
Fang Gang's thirty-foot golden body shone like molten gold. Every step he took shattered the ice beneath his feet, leaving burning footprints behind.
The scorching sensation from the bone talisman between his ribs beat like a heart, resonating strangely with the despair that permeated the city.
"Wedding photos... the old photo studio in the west of the city..." Ling Shuang's intelligence flashed through Fang Gang's mind.
That place was overflowing with resentment. It had already swallowed several Special Affairs Bureau squads, all of whom had died in bizarre ways—dressed in tattered white formalwear.
The target was clear. His massive golden body tore through the yin wind as he charged straight toward the western district.
The old street where the photo studio stood was so silent it was suffocating.
A cloying, sweet fragrance drifted through the air, mixed with the rusty stench of blood.
A three-story building stood alone beneath a faded sign reading "A Hundred Years of Bliss." Its pitch-black windows resembled the eye sockets of some gigantic beast.
Outside the building, several Special Affairs Bureau agents' corpses had been carefully "arranged" beside shattered wedding-dress mannequins. Their faces were frozen in blissful smiles, yet they wore white suits or wedding dresses soaked in blood and torn to rags.
Grade B peak! The venomous resentment of the Blood-Clad Fierce Ghost shot out from deep within the photo studio like tangible ice spikes.
Fang Gang's golden eyes swept over the corpses, and his gaze turned even colder.
Ignoring the mind-bewitching sweetness and bone-piercing chill, he strode forward and swung his huge, gold-membrane-covered fist at the