Inside the office, An Conghao had his eyes closed, enjoying Xiaotao's shoulder massage. To get that bottle of perfume, Xiaotao was putting every ounce of strength into kneading this fatty.
Bang! The door was violently kicked open; the thunderous noise made the dozing An Conghao jump.
His body shook as he bolted upright.
An unprecedented fury flooded his face. He roared toward the doorway: "Which bastard did that? I'll kill you!"
But he met Jiang Yan's gloomy stare. One look, and the rage in his heart inexplicably skipped a beat.
Then he noticed Han Qi—the stranger standing behind Jiang Yan. In that instant he found a vent for his anger: "Han Qi, what the hell are you good for? Bringing an outsider in—do you still want this job?"
"Boss, I—" Han Qi started, but Jiang Yan stepped forward and sat down in the chair opposite the desk.
Jiang Yan stared straight at An Conghao and said calmly, "Boss An, right? I'm starting a business and need some capital; I'd like your support—would that be possible?"
An Conghao sized up the young man. He wasn't stupid; seeing Han Qi clutching his stomach in pain and hearing no movement from the Bodyguards outside, he guessed something had happened.
Before An Conghao could speak, Xiaotao—exhausted from her effort—stepped forward in irritation.
She glared at the intruder who had interrupted her perfume-earning session, her face darkening: "Didn't your mother teach you manners? You don't barge in without an appoin—"
She never finished. Jiang Yan snapped his head toward her, eyes brimming with murderous intent.
An Conghao didn't stop Xiaotao; since Jiang Yan dared come like this, he wanted to see what the man was capable of.
Xiaotao, about to continue, suddenly heard a sutra chanting beside her ear.
"Amitābha, formless selfless, all beings mere dust, feeding my bliss."
As the voice sounded, a two-metre-tall, pitch-black Buddha appeared behind Jiang Yan.
The Buddha pressed its palms together, smiling benevolently, yet its eyes were utterly emotionless—eerie and sinister.
"Ahhh—ghost!" At the sight of the Ghost Buddha, Xiaotao's face contorted in terror and she stumbled backward.
Startled by her scream, An Conghao and Han Qi looked toward Jiang Yan's side—nothing was there.
An Conghao frowned and barked, "What's wrong with you? There's nothing there!"
But as he turned to Xiaotao, her terrified expression suddenly became serene.
Her lips began reciting an unfamiliar sutra: "Formless selfless, all beings mere dust, feeding my bliss…"
Chanting, she stripped off her clothes and knelt before Jiang Yan.
"What are you doing?!" An Conghao paled; only an idiot would fail to sense something was wrong.
Han Qi watched in horror.
Bare-chested in front of the three men, Xiaotao—under Jiang Yan's gaze—recited the sutra while gripping the muscle of her arm.
Rrrrip! The firm muscle tore away and was flung to the floor; blood gushed as if it cost nothing.
Unfeeling, Xiaotao kept her gentle smile, tore off another strip of flesh, and tossed it down.
The moment the flesh hit the ground it vanished, as if something had devoured it.
"Wh-what the—" An Conghao and Han Qi panicked; it was too bizarre, too terrifying.
An Conghao leapt up, ready to flee.
"Take one more step and you'll end up like her." He'd only moved two paces when Jiang Yan's icy voice rang out.