Chapter 133: 133 Familiar

Tushan Jiu is not good at socializing; she originally didn't want to say hello, but then she suddenly remembered what her second uncle said last time: to maintain good relations with future colleagues.

So she thought for a moment, glanced at Xiang Yichu's obviously somewhat chapped lips, then went back to the car, fetched a bottle of water, and walked over.

Not good with words, she simply threw the water at him and left one sentence: "Even machines have times to shut down and rest."

After saying that, she followed Zhang Xuefeng and the others into Jing Zhenzhou's villa.

Xiang Yichu lowered his head, staring at the bottle of mineral water in his hand, motionless for a long time.

Moments later, tears hit the bottle, making a pattering sound that grew increasingly frequent.

He knew that even if Tushan Jiu was curious about his perfectionist tendencies, she had not used her divine calculation ability to pry into his past.

Whether it was face or substance, she did not move against him.

Xiang Yichu muttered softly: "I'm not crying; I just got wind in my eyes, that's all!"

He didn't open the bottled water, took out his phone, opened a ride-hailing app, and prepared to call a car.

Suddenly, two sharp, piercing screams exploded.

He abruptly looked toward the direction of the villa.

How long has it been? In just a few short minutes, she had slain those two things?

Although those two were not attack-type little ghosts.

But she was this fast?

After being stunned for quite a while, Xiang Yichu suddenly smiled, a hint of relief appearing in his reddened eyes.

"Tushan Jiu, you're absolutely right; occasionally going on strike a few times is no big deal, anyway I'm now in Nan Cheng—who would know?"

Xiang Yichu's smile widened at the corners of his mouth.

Nan Cheng—he'll fill in Nan Cheng as his address for next year's civil service exam.

Determination rose in his eyes, and his heart thumped thump-thump with this bold idea.

He would rebel just this once, just this once!

Gripping the bottle tightly, he felt much lighter in his heart, as the various aching apertures caused by backlash also eased somewhat.

The hired car arrived; he withdrew his gaze and casually wiped away the tears on his face.

Then he turned and walked toward the roadside.

Ten minutes earlier.

When the police car stopped at the entrance, servants came out to check the situation.

Song Guogang produced his credentials, and the servants had to cooperate with the police.

Guard-type little ghosts are said to be able to foresee some danger in advance, but they're not as miraculous as foreign sorcerers describe.

For such evil things, precognition comes with a limited number of uses and a time limit.

However, a few hours earlier, that attack-type little ghost king had been slain by her; he must have sensed it.

Because the three little ghosts that Jing Zhenzhou had summoned back were bound by a sorcerer.

When one is eliminated, the others will immediately abandon their host and return to find their sorcerer master.

But how could Tushan Jiu possibly let them escape?

The beheading blade didn't just chop off the little ghost king's head; it also directly sealed him, so no force could sense any abnormality in him.

Now it's estimated that even their distant overseas creator might not know his little ghost has been captured.

Moreover, there's Jing Zhenzhou himself—she doesn't even know how to describe him properly.

All that can be said is that he brought this on himself; who who dares to meddle with these little ghosts ever ends well?

Once she sends this little ghost down, those things will quickly backlash against him, and he'll at most survive half a month.

Moreover, even if he later dies and goes down below, he won't fare well anywhere.

With all these crimes piled together, he couldn't possibly be reborn without a punishment of several hundred years.

In a room on the second floor of this villa, Jing Zhenzhou was lighting incense and making offerings.

The offerings before him were not the usual fruits and cooked foods known to the public, but three fetuses that had only recently formed.

Looking closely, the blood on those three fetuses was still bright red, clearly indicating they had only just left the mother's body not long ago.

Jing Zhenzhou inserted the incense into the burner, then muttered some foreign-language spells.

Moments later, two streams of black mist rose from the altar, enveloping the two dead fetuses before him and began to gnaw.

Jing Zhenzhou frowned, "How come only two divine ghost lords remain today?"

One of the black mists, hearing his question, slowed its chewing and uttered a few words in a jumbled voice.

After it finished speaking, Jing Zhenzhou's brows knotted even tighter, "The psychiatric hospital?"

Perhaps behind them, the fresh 'food' was too fragrant, so the two clumps of black mist only focused on devouring, paying no heed to Jing Zhenzhou and not answering his question.

Not long after, the two black mists finished consuming, then they simultaneously rushed to seize the 'food' that did not belong to them.

Among them, there are no rules—whoever consumes more is stronger; perhaps one day they'll be able to crunch each other up as well.

Jing Zhenzhou glanced at them, then bowed again.

The sandalwood wooden bead bracelet on his wrist swayed twice from his motion.

After performing three bows and rising, he pushed up his slipping gold-rimmed glasses with his middle finger, a flash of ruthlessness crossing his eyes.

It seems his son really is disobedient and needs proper education.

He took out his phone and dialed Zhong Guangming's number.

"Beep...... beep......"

The phone rang for a long time, but no one on the other end answered.

Jing Zhenzhou's right eyelid began to twitch nonstop; he just felt something was off.

Normally, Zhong Guangming wouldn't miss a call even while showering.

He had called repeatedly several times, but still no one answered.

Jing Zhenzhou pushed his glasses up again, flipped through the contacts for another name—Secretary Wang, Zhong Guangming's personal secretary; calling him would be no different.

But just as he was about to dial, the room door was knocked.

His finger froze, and he turned his head toward the door.

He had strictly ordered the servants not to come to this room on the second floor, so he personally cleaned it himself; therefore, no one could possibly come here—unless the visitor wasn't a servant.

Only Tushan Jiu was at the door; she had told Zhang Xuefeng, Song Guogang, and the others to wait downstairs.

She never had much patience to begin with.

After two knocks, she kicked the door straight off its hinges.

Inside, Jing Zhenzhou, who had been walking toward the door, didn't react in time and was slapped straight to the floor.

Tushan Jiu saw it and felt the scene looked vaguely familiar.

But she didn't have time to dwell on it; instead, she stepped onto the door panel and walked over.

Watching the two fierce clumps of black mist battling over the altar, Tushan Jiu had her hands in her pockets and a lollipop still in her mouth.

"Still fighting? I've come to catch you!"

Having said that, even she was taken aback.

Huh?

Why does this line feel somewhat familiar as well?