This Taoist priest is so unprofessional!

Just when Zhou Zhenghao was under extreme stress and on the verge of collapse.

An accident occurred.

In the crowd, a reporter carrying a heavy camera next to Wang Xiaoer lost his footing while trying to get a better shooting angle, and bumped into a temporary power outlet next to him.

"Sizzle—!"

A piercing electrical roar suddenly resounded throughout the entire groundbreaking ceremony venue through the sound system!

Almost simultaneously, the huge LED screen behind Zhou Zhenghao, which was used to play the company's promotional video on a loop, also flickered.

The image on the screen disappeared, replaced by a garbled, ominous, eerie green interface filled with gibberish.

Although it only lasted for a brief moment, the green screen disappeared, and the large screen returned to normal playback.

To everyone present, it was just a minor, harmless technical glitch that would at most elicit a few complaints and jokes.

But this sudden scene, in the eyes of Zhou Zhenghao, who was feeling guilty, was no less than a death warrant from the deepest hell!

That piercing electrical sound...

picture!so similar!

It sounds just like the sound effects that play when a character dies in the movie "Tales from the Underworld"!

And that green screen!

That fleeting interface filled with gibberish!

It's exactly the same error message that popped up by that damn Trojan virus that stole accounts back then!

sound.

picture.

Two nightmares, buried for ten years, are precisely awakened and overlapped at this moment through a seemingly accidental accident.

They became the last straw that broke the camel's back.

Zhou Zhenghao's psychological defenses were completely shattered in that instant.

"Splash!"

The speech notes in his hands were scattered all over the floor.

He seemed to have all his strength drained away, or as if he had been injected with the most insane poison.

He stared intently at the crowd below the stage. The blurry faces twisted and deformed in his eyes, eventually converging into the shadow he feared most.

He saw it.

He saw Song Wen standing there with a strange smile on his face, silently mouthing words to him.

Give me back my equipment, give me back my life!

"No!!"

Zhou Zhenghao suddenly stretched out his finger and pointed frantically in the direction of the crowd, roaring in a completely distorted voice, a mixture of fear and despair.

"It's you! You're back!"

Why won't you leave me alone?!

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

All the music, applause, and conversations came to an abrupt halt at that moment.

After a deathly silence came a deafening clamor.

After a half-second pause, all the media cameras reacted instantly, like sharks smelling blood, and frantically focused on the man on the podium who had completely lost his composure.

They pushed aside the security guards in front of them, shoved through the crowds blocking their way, and rushed toward the podium without regard for anything else.

"Mr. Zhou, what are you saying?"

"Who's back? Who are you referring to?"

"Mr. Zhou, are you feeling unwell? Should we call an ambulance?"

Countless microphones, a dark mass, like countless thirsty tentacles, desperately reached towards Zhou Zhenghao's mouth.

The flashes of light created a blinding daylight, capturing every twist and turn of the muscles on his face.

However, Zhou Zhenghao showed no reaction to any of this.

In his world, there were no longer reporters, no longer guests, and no longer this grand groundbreaking ceremony.

He had been completely consumed by the nightmare that had been festering deep within his heart for ten years.

The figures moving around him and the noisy inquiries all converged in his eyes into Song Wen's face with a strange smile.

He saw him standing in the audience, in the crowd, silently smiling at him and questioning him.

Zhou Zhenghao was frozen in place by that gaze, and fear overwhelmed his last shred of reason.

He waved his arms incoherently, as if shooing away some unseen fly, his voice sharp and hoarse.

"It wasn't me! I didn't push you!"

"You slipped and fell by yourself! Yes! You fell by yourself!"

His explanation echoed through the massive sound system, every word clearly resonating throughout the venue.

The audience fell silent instantly, everyone stunned by this sudden bombshell revelation.

推谁？

Who fell?

Zhou Zhenghao was completely oblivious to the strangeness around him. He was still immersed in his trial and eager to get rid of the crime that had haunted him for ten years.

"Your equipment...your artifact...I didn't steal it!"

"Your computer got a virus! You deserve it!"

A magical artifact?

Poisoning?

These words, incomprehensible to ordinary people, struck like thunderbolts at the hearts of several police officers and veteran journalists covering social news.

They exchanged a glance, sensing something unusual behind this "entrepreneur's public loss of composure" incident.

Zhou Zhenghao on the stage had completely lost his mind.

He looked at the face he had imagined below the stage, at that relentless smile, and all the repression and fear of the past ten years turned into rage at that moment.

He felt that they were mocking him.

They mocked his despicable past and his current wretched state.

A surge of evil fire erupted from the depths of his heart, burning away the last nerve he had called "pretend".

"So what if I pushed you?"

He suddenly grinned maliciously, his expression twisted like that of a demon.

"I did it on purpose!"

The entire room fell silent.

Everyone held their breath, unable to believe their ears.

"Who told you to be so ungrateful!"

Zhou Zhenghao pointed to a spot in the void, roaring with spittle flying everywhere.

"You wouldn't even take the money! You insisted on competing with me for that spot!"

"Then I'll just delete all your equipment! Haha! I'll leave you with nothing! Hahahaha!"

He laughed maniacally, and as he laughed, tears streamed down his face.

He started rambling incoherently, spilling out all the keywords buried deep in his memory.

"The keyboard...yes! That keyboard!"

"And that match! That internet cafe!"

"It's all your fault! It's all your fault!"

His words were all incoherent and illogical; it was impossible to tell which were true and which were false.

His mind had completely collapsed, and all he wanted was to get rid of the nightmare that had haunted him for ten years.

He just wanted to shut up "Song Wen" in the audience and make him disappear forever.

The police officers maintaining order at the scene finally realized what was happening.

Two police officers rushed onto the stage and restrained Zhou Zhenghao, who had completely lost control of his emotions, from both sides.

"Mr. Zhou, please calm down!"

"You are suspected of disturbing public order. Please come with us!"

The moment his wrists were locked by the cold handcuffs, Zhou Zhenghao seemed to be jolted awake for a moment.

He struggled violently, and as he looked at the police uniform, fear once again filled his face.

He cannot be arrested.

He hasn't gotten rid of that ghost yet.

As the police forcibly removed him from the stage, he used the last of his strength to turn back towards the crowd and let out a blood-curdling roar.

"Don't arrest me! Arrest him!"

"Go capture the mysterious king!"

This shout, like a precise nail, provided the police with the most direct direction for their investigation.

As the police cars flashed their lights and roared away, taking Zhou Zhenghao away from his most glorious stage, the scene turned into a complete uproar.

At the edge of the crowd, Wang Xiaoer, Zhang Chen, and the fat man turned around silently and left this chaotic place against the flow of people.

They remained behind the scenes throughout, without resorting to any violence or supernatural forces.

With just a psychological trap and a "cursed object" carrying the karma of ten years, the murderer, at the peak of his life, sent himself to hell in front of everyone.

To subdue the enemy without fighting.

Cause and effect, retribution, so satisfying!