Lu Zhendong slammed his phone onto the conference table, drawing curious looks from his colleagues.
He swept them with an icy gaze. "What are you looking at? Continue the report!"
The young man standing in front of the screen shuddered. "Ahem. Next, I'll continue briefing everyone on the mysterious master who suddenly shot to fame in Kyoto."
"Apparently, quite a few tycoons' wives have sought him out for readings, or to curse people with effigies..."
Lu Zhendong abruptly stood, startling his colleagues again. He left the conference room without a word. Shortly afterward, roaring came from the corridor.
"Are you out of your mind?! You like men?! Who gave you the right?!"
"You little brat, you dare talk back? Get on a plane and come home tonight!"
"Jian Ran's younger brother?! So what?! Even he's more likely dead than alive. What difference does his brother make?!"
"..."
When Lu Zhendong returned to the conference room, his colleagues hastily pulled their heads back and pretended to be holding a perfectly serious meeting. The young man giving the report asked in a trembling voice, "Director, shall we continue?"
"Continue, my ass! Gather everyone at the institute and head to Southern City immediately. We have an urgent mission!" Lu Zhendong issued his orders, then turned and left.
The others quickly rose and sprang into action.
By the time Jian Ran reached the palace, the music and singing had stopped. Film crew members lay collapsed everywhere, bleeding from all seven orifices, seemingly unconscious.
He checked a few people nearby. Only after finding that their lives were not in danger did he feel reassured enough to head farther inside.
The palace had fallen into darkness, pitch-black, as though some wild beast lurked within. A sense of danger permeated the place.
Suddenly, a streak of