His breathing was heavy and rapid.
Wang Quan was nearly collapsing. In those brief dozen or so seconds just now, he had practically walked the edge of death and back. If Yang Jian had acted even a little slower, or if he had failed to stop the ghost behind him, Wang Quan would definitely be dead by now.
Ghosts killed ordinary people far too easily. He understood that very clearly.
"D-Did it succeed?" Wang Quan's throat felt dry, and he had trouble speaking smoothly.
One of Yang Jian's hands gripped the picture frame. Looking at the ghost painting, which no longer showed any abnormalities, he said calmly, "It's more or less dealt with. The ghost painting has been suppressed by me. As long as I don't let go, nothing strange will happen with it."
"That's good."
Wang Quan wiped the cold sweat dripping from his forehead. "As long as the mission's complete, that's what matters. Thanks to you, Mr. Yang, the losses this time were far smaller than we expected."
"Let's not talk about that yet. Pack up the painting first," Yang Jian said.
Wang Quan nodded, then shouted to the people behind him, "You two, come help. The ghost painting has been successfully contained. There's no danger now."
The two staff members in the distance looked delighted as well, both with the feeling of having survived a disaster. Their courage returned, and they hurried over.
Soon, with several people working together, the huge ghost painting was packed into a bag, then wrapped in several more layers inside and out to ensure there were no gaps left.
Only after confirming that there was no problem did Yang Jian withdraw his hand and continue observing it.
After all, this thing had become somewhat difficult to handle. Now that it had finally