Tomb Robbery: Ju Ling Sen Is in Hand, I Stop Aning

The strong northwest wind blew against his face like sandpaper. Ye Chuan leaned against the rusty off-road vehicle and stared at the dusty building. Large sections of the wall peeled off, exposing the black cement bones, and the weeds were overgrown, yellow, and messy, giving off a dead air. A cold mechanical sound blasted in my mind—the five-minute sign-in countdown began. Three major systems of Ji Ling were sent to pour in: the art of inviting the spirit to use force to explode, the art of shaking the soul to suppress and restrain, and the art of subduing the spirit to devour the eternal solid. Aning jumped off the big SUV and stepped on the dust under his boots. He glanced at the nursing home in the distance with hidden scrutiny. I know Brother Chuan's details clearly. The accounting for this trip started from the moment she asked.