The True Young Master's Metaphysical Road to Fame in Showbiz Ch. 67

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Ignoring the secretary who looked like she was dying to say something but didn't, Chi Xiaoyuan took the private elevator down to the lobby.

It wasn't even 9 AM yet—prime rush hour, right before the start of the workday.

Office workers rushed in and out of the building like their lives depended on it. One person even lost a shoe mid-run and hopped around on one foot looking for it, yelling for a coworker to hold the elevator.

The lobby was packed and buzzing with life.

Chi Xiaoyuan looked mildly disgusted as he dodged a couple of employees sprinting past, then strode straight toward the exit.

His driver had already gone to get the car and should've been waiting out front by now.

Chi Xiaoyuan adjusted his tie, stepped out through the main entrance, and had just started down the stairs when—bam—thick white fog rolled in out of nowhere.

The heavy mist completely blocked his vision. He couldn't see more than a few inches ahead—everything turned into a blurry mess.

Caught off guard, he froze for a second and didn't stop his steps in time.

Next thing he knew, his foot slipped on the edge of the step, and his whole body tipped backward—smacking his butt hard against the stairs and then sliding down one step after another, like a ragdoll in slow motion!

A sharp jolt of pain shot up from his tailbone straight to the top of his skull.

Chi Xiaoyuan instantly broke out in a cold sweat, soaking the back of his shirt. But for the sake of his pride, he forced himself to keep quiet and didn't let out a single cry of pain.

The driver and a building security guard saw his blank, stunned expression and rushed over, panicking as they carefully helped him up.

His lips trembled twice, and in a breathy, barely-there voice, he said, "H-hospital. Take me to the hospital."

The driver answered in a flurry, helped him into the back seat, then sped off in the Ferrari.

Chi Xiaoyuan secretly let out a sigh of relief. The white fog, which had rolled in so suddenly, vanished just as mysteriously—like it had never been there at all.

He started to wonder if something was wrong with his eyes. Maybe he should book an ophthalmologist appointment later. What he didn't know was that right after he left, a wave of laughter and buzzing conversation exploded among the people outside the office building.

A bunch of them had already seen the trending search and instantly connected the dots, wondering if Chi Xiaoyuan was fleeing in such a rush because of the whole "real vs. fake young master" scandal.

The chatter grew and spread like wildfire. And no one knew how it happened exactly, but soon a new rumor popped up and started making the rounds—along with a perfectly timed photo someone had snapped:

"Chi Corp's Young Master Chi seen fleeing HQ in a panic—likely feeling guilty, tripped while mentally checked out!"

With pics to back it up, it wasn't long before a brand-new trending topic hit the charts.

Just like that, Chi Xiaoyuan—much like Chi Qingning—found himself dead center in the spotlight.

But whether this kind of spotlight was what either of them wanted... well, that's another story.

Just ten minutes earlier, at the Puluo tribe's altar.

Chi Qingzhou stepped back a little, swinging a long wooden stick in a smooth arc through the air.

A thick surge of yin energy—blended with a very human spiritual force—rushed straight into the staff, making its tip tremble violently.

With a faint buzzing sound, Chi Qingzhou launched himself into the air, then brought the staff down hard, using the force of his body weight to slam it into the ground!

The altar stones couldn't handle the spiritual and yin energy collision. Cracks echoed like thunder, and in just a blink, deep fissures spread out across the stone like a spiderweb.

Tiny shards of rock flew out, grazing across Chi Qingzhou's cheek and leaving a thin white scratch.

He didn't even flinch. Without missing a beat, he flipped the staff around in one fluid motion and slammed it down again—this time on a narrow ditch where water flowed.

Water splashed high into the air.

The sound of stones cracking rang out again and again in rapid bursts, until the entire altar staircase was covered in fractures. The water that had been flowing into the altar's central groove now poured into the broken soil, soaking the ground in a spreading stain.

The replica altar could no longer hold back the ghost energy—same kind as what surrounded Xing Shuangzhan—and crumbled with a deafening crash.

Chi Qingzhou didn't even pause. He raised the staff again and marched straight toward the dragon brain incense at the altar's center.

Watching him from the shadows, Zhu Yantong's face turned ghost-pale in an instant.

His master, Qu Feng, was still in a deep sleep atop that tree. The ghost energy stolen from an apocalyptic-level ghost was still hiding his master's soul—that was also the key reason they'd been able to fool the bloodline-sensing enchantments of the ancestral land.

Once Chi Qingzhou fully destroyed the altar, that energy would probably backfire—and his master would be the first to take the hit.

Zhu Yantong's eyes were filled with hate. He glanced down at his severed arm. Even though he was badly injured and had used up every last trick to stay alive, he grit his teeth and charged forward.

Chi Qingzhou was even more ruthless than he'd thought. One end of the long wooden staff was already jabbed into the roots of the dragon brain incense tree—it looked like he was just about ready to yank the whole thing out of the ground.

Zhu Yantong's heart trembled, and sweat started beading on his temples.

No time to think. No time to waste. He sent the last two spirit-controlled ghosts under his command straight at Chi Qingzhou.

Chi Qingzhou's gaze flickered. He paused slightly, turned around, and asked, "Your master is Qu Feng?"

Zhu Yantong clenched his jaw and didn't answer, instead ducking backward.

The two spirit-controlled ghosts rushed forward, claws out, nails extending into sharp points as they went straight for Chi Qingzhou's throat.

With a light shake of the long stick, Chi Qingzhou casually swatted the weightless, floating ghosts aside. Then the shadow at his feet suddenly stood up—stretching out like lightning toward the tree's shadow and shooting toward Zhu Yantong with terrifying speed.

Instantly, Zhu Yantong was hit with a flash of déjà vu—memories from half an hour ago came flooding back. Horrified, he let out a shout and turned to flee.

All credit goes to the original author
Feel free to pinpoint us if there are any grammar error or typos
Please don't use Guazi's translations to re-translate in other languages

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