The True Young Master's Metaphysical Road to Fame in Showbiz Ch. 88

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And considering how much his cultivation had slowed down since Chi Qingzhou joined the Along the Way livestream, Chi Shuhong thought long and hard, then used another talisman.

Watching as online sympathy for Chi Qingning started to gain momentum, he finally felt a little better.

Now that things were settling down, Chi Shuhong had some free mental space. He casually checked the time at the top of his phone. It was almost time for his daily offering ritual, so he stood up, getting ready to bathe, cleanse himself, and prepare the offerings.

That was when a wisp of musty air slipped through the window crack and quietly settled on top of his head.

He didn't notice a thing.

He took a step forward, but as soon as his right foot hit the ground, it went numb—and his whole body suddenly pitched forward toward the offering table.

He cried out in shock, completely panicked, flailing his arm wildly in the air, trying to grab onto something to steady himself.

But that only made things worse.

The heavy sandalwood chair beside him got yanked over. Its leg smacked his left foot, and in the next second, he slammed hard into the altar!

There were a series of clattering noises.

The chair hit Chi Shuhong first, then bounced off the altar, coming down hard—right onto his right leg!

With a dull, brutal thud, the bones in Chi Shuhong's thigh snapped and twisted out of place. The searing pain was so intense it completely blanked out his mind.

He let out a scream that sounded like it could tear his throat apart, clutching his leg and rolling around on the floor, cold sweat soaking through the back of his robe in no time.

The altar rocked violently, shifting a good dozen centimeters to the side before it finally steadied, barely avoiding a full collapse.

But the things on the altar weren't nearly as lucky.

The first to fall was a good-luck charm plaque carved from agarwood. It hit the floor with a solid thunk, followed by the shrine and incense candles crashing down right on top of it.

Another heavy, splintering crack—the charm plaque that had been placed there by Chi Jianming and his wife, faithfully worshipped for twelve years, was completely destroyed in that moment.

Chi Shuhong turned his head with difficulty and caught sight of the shattered plaque. The rage in his eyes was so intense, they were practically bloodshot.

What he didn't see was that, over on the phone lying nearby, the topic page on Lianbo was refreshing on its own.

A huge wave of netizens—God knows where they all came from—had swarmed in and started absolutely tearing into the paid posters.

[You talk a good game, but look at the timestamp in the lower-right corner of that video. That secretly recorded clip is from over three years ago! Chi Qingzhou only returned to the Chi family three months ago! So tell me, where were Chi Qingning and the Chi family during those three years? If they weren't hiding something, why didn't they claim their biological son earlier?]

[Exactly! And Chi Qingning is the only one we're supposed to be pitiful? What about Chi Qingzhou, who had to put up with his adoptive parents' abuse for all those years—how is he not more pitiful?]

Meanwhile, at the Hexing City branch of the Song Corporation—

Chi Jianming had just finished a meeting with the secretary of the Song family's head, and he didn't look pleased as he stepped out of the reception room.

The actual head of the Song family, who was supposed to be visiting the branch, hadn't even agreed to see him. The secretary had been polite enough, sure, but said a whole lot of nothing. The partnership Chi Jianming had been hoping for? Still completely up in the air.

Feeling frustrated, he straightened his tie and pressed the elevator button to go down.

For some reason—maybe the building was just really busy today—he ended up waiting more than ten minutes, and still, no elevator showed up.

Employees from the Song Corp kept walking by, throwing curious glances his way. Chi Jianming was starting to feel seriously awkward, so he turned on his heel and headed for the stairwell instead.

A few well-known local business association heads happened to walk past and gave him polite nods.

Chi Jianming had been wanting to build connections with them for a while now, so he quickly returned the greeting with a friendly nod of his own.

But he was too caught up in making small talk to notice the wet patch on the floor right in front of him.

His shoe hit the slick spot, slipped—and he went down, hard, in a crash that echoed through the entire hallway.

While walking, Chi Jianming suddenly slipped and before he could react, he fell into a full split.

He wasn't young anymore, and his muscles and bones weren't as flexible and limber as those of younger people. With no preparation at all, when he hit the split, the pain immediately shot through him, making his vision go blurry.

Even though the corridor was crowded with people, noisy as ever, in that moment, the faint sounds of his ligaments and bones being stretched seemed to amplify in his ears, drowning out all the noise, until they mingled with the words "It hurts" and echoed through his mind, roaring like thunder.

Many of the passersby who witnessed this scene instinctively widened their eyes. Employees of the Song family and a few business owners from the chamber of commerce gasped in shock.

Chi Jianming wanted to scream, but the astonished gasps of the crowd kept reminding him.

He didn't want to lose face, so he clenched his teeth and swallowed the groan back into his throat.

Pain jolted through Chi Jianming's nerves, and soon his forehead was covered in beads of sweat.

He shakily placed his hands on the floor, trying to stand up.

But his legs were so sore that he couldn't muster any strength. After struggling a couple of times, he collapsed back down.

The startled business owners snapped out of it, unable to hold back a wince of sympathy.

They were all older men, so who didn't know how much that kind of fall could hurt?

Just seeing Chi Jianming fall made them feel like their own legs were hurting too.

A few of the bosses, feeling some sympathy for the older man, hurriedly stepped forward to help.

One person supported him under his armpit, trying to pull him up. Another gripped his arm to give him leverage, and someone else grabbed his leg, preventing him from being unable to move on his own because his legs couldn't support him.

He muttered some vague words of gratitude, trying to stand with the help of everyone.

But his legs felt like they weren't even his anymore—trembling uncontrollably, not responding to him at all.

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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