With Xiaoi’s scream, the atmosphere on the set grew even more eerie.
The crew mbers stared at the classroom with pale faces.
"This is the era of science, not the ignorant tis when taphysics ran rampant!"
The director slamd the table, his face twisted, saying, "You two, did you plan this together? Are you playing with everyone on purpose?"
Looking at the director constantly signaling with his eyes, the two actresses, though terrified, finally nodded, biting their lips.
"Alright, if there’s nothing wrong, let’s continue shooting!"
To boost morale, the director also dressed up, becoming one of the actors.
"Alright! Cara crew ready, three! Two! One! Action!"
Ning An watched the director, whose legs were trembling slightly, feeling sowhat conflicted inside.
If everyone’s this scared, shouldn’t we just stop shooting?
And it’s unknown if other film crews are like this, with humans, ghosts, and Daoists working together to make a movie.
These days, making a living is really not easy.
The two actresses, their voices trembling, repeated the Pen Immortal summoning ritual.
As expected, a sinister wind arose again, the windows creaked, and the light bulb swung more violently.
But this ti, no new evil ghost was summoned; instead, the murderous aura of the pen-holding ghost intensified, until it overwheld the people’s positive energy, making everyone able to see it.
Ning An was quite looking forward to this scene.
Due to insufficient emotional build-up, filming restarted.
After several Pen Immortal rituals, it seed the entire classroom was distorted, and even breathing felt sticky and difficult.
Soon, after a burdened flickering, the light bulb went out with a "bang" again.
When the new bulb lit up once more, Ning An looked around excitedly.
Yet, the expected scene of corpses everywhere did not appear; although everyone’s face showed horror, they sat steadily in their original places.
Even the staff changing the bulbs had no injuries on them.
However, fear spread like ink.
Everyone had a peculiar expression, staring at the direction of the stove.
The director was only concerned about whether the cara was damaged and shouted angrily:
"Crew! What’s going on! Can’t even handle a broken light bulb? Pack up and get out!"
Beside him, Li Jingye turned his head blankly, patting the director and pointing toward the stove.
Ning An also looked over, seeing Xiaorong lying on the stove again, but this ti slowly sinking into it.
The director, who was shouting earlier, fell silent instantly.
Swallowing twice, the director trembled, saying, "Xiao... Xiaorong, let’s not ss around, co out."
Despite calling several tis, Xiaorong had no response, continuing to crawl into the stove in a bizarre posture.
The director gritted his teeth, picked up the walkie-talkie, and said:
"Get them all over here!"
Soon, a few well-trained n appeared, and Ning An surveyed them, noticing their strong energy.
Evidently, the director was well-prepared.
But looking at the materializing ghost in a white dress, Ning An shook his head.
If these guys had stayed from the start, maybe they’d be useful, but now...
They’re just nourishnt for the ghost.
"Lift her up."
The n promptly went up, each grabbing a corner, trying to pull her out.
Despite their efforts, Xiaorong did not budge, instead, sunk deeper.
"Director, we can’t lift her."
"Did you not eat enough? Can’t lift a single woman, you guys, go too!"
The director forced two photographers to join in the effort.
The photographers swallowed nervously, but with four n, six in total, they tried hard, yet Xiaorong remained stuck against the stove.
"Useless!"
The director furiously stood up, signaling one of the n.
"Put your hand in and check if sothing’s catching her."
The man, panic-stricken, said, "...?"
"Who else but ?"
The director smacked the man down, causing the man to groan and fall.
"Ow, Director, you hit my old wound, it tore, it hurts."
"F**k you! Useless! Useless!"
Seeing others also retreating, the director darkened his face, took a deep breath, and knelt down, reaching into the stove.
"How is it? Director, what’s stuck?"
Just as the director reached inside, he quickly withdrew, causing everyone’s tension to rise.
But he stood up, taking another breath, and shakily reached again.
"Goodness, is he swimming?"
Ning An was holding back laughter when hearing Lin Nanbei’s sarcastic comnt.
He couldn’t help but chuckle.
The director jumped in surprise, leapt back, and ran to the crowd in a few steps.
Under everyone’s expectant eyes, the director pointed at the stove, shaking his head fearfully.
"Stupid Daoist, was warned but didn’t leave, now it’s too late."
Hearing that familiar voice, everyone turned happily.
But upon seeing, their expressions beca strange.
"Who... who are you..." Xiaoi’s teeth trembled, stamringly asking.
"I am the has-been star Xiaorong."
"Xiaorong, then why do your clothes look different now?"
The outfit changes when possessed by a ghost.
Another new piece of knowledge.
Feeling happy for learning sothing new, Ning An saw the director suddenly scream.
Seemingly pulled by an unseen force, the director wobbled as he rose.
He gestured desperately to Ning An, muttering a few words:
"Daoist... cough, save... ..."
Sigh.
After a long sigh, Ning An took out the newly acquired Seven-Star Copper Coin Sword, blew on it sadly, then swung.
Sizzle!
Like a scythe cutting wheat, an indescribable sound rang out.
Imdiately after, the director fell, clutching his throat, gasping for air.
After catching his breath, the director slid forward, hugging Ning An’s leg, earnestly gazing at him:
"Little Daoist, please help, save , save ."
The ghost also gazed at Ning An, smiling charmingly:
"Stupid Daoist, if you leave now, it’s still not too late."
Suddenly she waved her arm, causing everyone around—except two unreliable taphysics strears and the director hugging Ning An’s leg—to collapse.
So were bleeding from eyes and mouths, others tongue protruded, and so rolled their eyes and fainted.
Surprised, Ning An glanced at the ghost, silently estimating her power, then smiled pragmatically.
Ning An took three incense sticks from his backpack, handing them to the director said:
"Burn these three sticks, and the ancestor will keep you safe, but since it’s last-minute, it’ll cost more, ten thousand per stick, is that okay?"
Seeing the ghost-possessed Xiaorong drawing nearer, the director nodded vigorously:
"Okay, okay, okay! I’m willing, Daoist, hurry up..."
Ning An’s eyes brightened, invigorated:
"The incense is lit, the price is paid, ti for Little Daoist to act."
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