Chapter 34: Mother's Diary

Jiang Lixuan was startled by Zhang Shimian’s sudden appearance and slammed on the brakes. Jiang Hengzhi, who had been shamelessly tailing them, lurched forward from the car's momentum, his head nearly smashing into the seat in front of him.

Jiang Lixuan couldn't help but let a string of colorful profanities slip out: "Your moth—"

Upon catching Zhang Shimian’s gaze, Jiang Lixuan abruptly changed his tune: "How are you doing today? Of course, absolutely, Daoist Zhang, please, get in."

As he spoke, he opened the car door, and Zhang Shimian slipped inside with practiced agility.

Wang Nuo, however, did not follow the conventional path. He hadn't earned his status through analyst certification; he was... a philanthropist.

I spent the second half of the night in the guest room, with Yuetang and Yinghan keeping a constant, unwavering watch over me. I couldn't fall asleep; the assassin’s cold, brutal face kept flashing through my mind, and every time I drifted off, I dreamt of a gleaming blade pressed against my throat—only to wake up in a cold sweat.

Ye Hua leaned upward, biting onto her earlobe, his warm breath instantly flooding Hua Xuanji’s eardrum. Yet, his tone was chillingly cold.

Thinking of this, I suddenly recalled something my grandmother had once told me, a memory that made the hair on my arms stand up and sent waves of icy shivers creeping from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head.

Gu Qingyuan sat slumped on the stone bench. He lifted his face slightly to look at Shen Yi and me, the disappointment in his eyes deepening. He looked like a defeated rooster, his feathers scattered everywhere, appearing utterly pitiful.

At this moment, my mother, who usually disliked speaking, was the first to question the master. She asked that if the bronze lion was the source of the evil spirit, why hadn't he noticed it from the beginning? Furthermore, what clues had he found to be so certain that the root of all our family’s troubles lay with this bronze lion?

We all understand this logic, but when it comes to actually doing something, when we are truly faced with it, can our hearts make the right choice?

I asked the master if it was because I had gone to the old house and provoked something. The master said it looked like it, but in reality, it wasn't. He said he felt that something had been following me since I was at the old house, appearing as if it had trailed me out from home rather than being summoned at the old house.

Upon hearing this, my mother seemed to realize something and immediately rushed into the house. I don't remember what happened after that; the reason is simple—I must have been possessed.

The master nodded after hearing my account, offering no comment. This was my first time speaking with him. I asked where he was from, and he didn't hide it, omitting the specific location and only saying he was a man from Zhen'an.

Chu Yu’s "God-Slayer" sword collided violently with the ancient blade of Xuanwei, producing a massive, shuddering clang.

I truly hoped that the office director’s team could sneak to the tenth floor and capture the people in the surveillance room. If so, it would save us a great deal of trouble and allow us to resolve the immediate crisis smoothly.

My second uncle specifically instructed us to pack up the burial artifacts and keep them out of sight of the Choros family. It wasn't that we feared they would harbor any ill intentions toward the treasures, but rather that we didn't want to hurt their feelings. Their people are deeply religious, and they must never find out about things like grave robbing.

"Master, have you forgotten something again?" Inside the room, Mu Qing was crouching in the corner, preparing to unplug the vacuum cleaner. Hearing the door, she asked the returning Kato with a hint of confusion.

It is said that Thai sorcerers are divided into two types: Luang Phor and Ajarn. Luang Phor primarily reside in temples, focusing on spiritual cultivation and accumulating merit, and are considered orthodox practitioners. Ajarns are secular practitioners who rarely live in temples and are proficient in a more eclectic variety of spells; among them, they are further divided into Black-robed and White-robed Ajarns.

Slowly extending his palm, one could see two streaks of red and yellow thunder essence flickering like flames upon Chu Shaoyang’s fingertips.