Mortal Kombat: Scumbag Men Stealing Away Yandere Girls

It seems they've hired a grumpy guy.

But he didn't go down to stop him, and instead told him the servile principle that "the guest is God."

Originally, the staff member on site was a petite woman who was holding up a sign and weakly advising that there were no more tickets available. However, she was still poked on the shoulder and forehead by a grumpy old woman.

"We've been queuing for so long, and you're just telling me there are no tickets left?"

"Holy crap, do you think we're all idiots?! Don't you all agree?!"

The poor female staff member could only weakly lower her head and apologize, tears welling up in her eyes.

Ticket scalpers are also rampant, pointing at people selling tickets on the spot and raising prices on the spot, adding a few cents to the price.

Everything changed after that hot-tempered guy took over.

He walked out, holding the notice board, and amidst the nagging of the older women, slammed it to the ground, smashing the wooden stick of the notice board to pieces. He lit a cigarette, hoisted the broken wooden stick onto his shoulder, and adopted an arrogant and domineering demeanor.

The incident silenced the elderly women at the scene, and the rampant scalpers dispersed on their own.

Absolute violence is still quite effective.

The world truly needs all kinds of talent, and talent can play a role in unexpected places.

Bai Weiran thought back to how Qin Ning had personally selected this person.

Is this Qin Ning's management talent?

Will today's crowds be several times larger than yesterday's, or will there be another new form of viral popularity?

Even Bai Weiran himself didn't expect this.

Mysterious female painter, Miracle Gallery?

No, in an era that loves entertainment, these are things of the past.

He had a newspaper under his elbow with a slogan prominently displayed on it.

[Shocking! The Miracle Gallery, a mysterious painter, backed by the King and Empress of the Night Empire—an opening ceremony fraught with bloodshed!]

[A remarkable talent born from violence, blood, money, and darkness, and elevated to a higher level]

Qin Ning's photo was photoshopped into a circle, blurred out, and made into a dialogue format.

[Reporter: How did you manage to collaborate with the painter of miracles?]

[Ms. C, who is not named: Yes, she sold herself. She sold everything to me. She has to listen to me.]

[Ms. C, who is not named: What, you have a problem with that?]

[Reporter: Don't you think that buying people with money like this violates public order and good morals, and how does it affect public perception...?]

[Anonymous Ms. C: I'm happy, I have plenty of money, and I want to spend it on her, so what?]

[Reporter: Do you believe that money is everything?]

[Ms. C, who doesn't want to be named: Always thinking that money is everything!]

His photo then appeared, also photoshopped, blurred, and presented as a dialogue.

When asked by a reporter whether this segment could be reported accurately, Mr. W, the founder of another gallery, stepped forward and smiled at the reporter.

Mr. W: I like smart people because it's easy to talk to them, easy to get along with them, and I believe that smart people are the ones who can make money.

Mr. W and Ms. C gave the same story, smiling and defending her.

[It seems they're trying to silence the reporters and prevent them from telling the truth.]

But the reporter still mustered the courage to ask Mr. W a question.

[Reporter: You're so smart and wealthy, even without using these methods, could you still create greater value for society?]

Mr. W: We, who possess so much wealth, are many times better than you, and we also possess many times more intelligence than you.

[Mr. W: We have plenty of money and intelligence. Who is she? Does she need someone like you, who is inferior to us in every way, to remind us?]

With a disdainful smile, Mr. W and Ms. C walked away hand in hand, disappearing into the gallery.

The reporter stood there, sighing to himself. What complexities of human nature could have created this gallery, the artists, the exhibition—everything, a mysterious miracle—a night steeped in blood and evil.

As expected, journalists from any world have proven that they come from the same assembly line—telling stories from pictures and editing them into masterpieces.

Bai Weiran never expected that he would prevent Cao Shuang's evil deeds and the details of his actions against An Qin from being leaked.

He turned off all the reporters' cameras and video equipment well in advance.

This means that a large number of reporters who were on site ran out of material halfway through.

Aside from the conversations that can be recorded and the one or two photos taken at the beginning.

Not a single photo of the attack on Cao Shuang was taken.

Once outside, they were threatened and silenced, told not to talk nonsense about An Qin and Cao Shuang.

Some reporters, though diligent and cautious, submitted rather conventional articles, praising An Qin's art exhibition extensively but not mentioning Cao Shuang at all.

The script was utterly uninteresting, bland as water, and the audience wouldn't watch it.

But what if some reporters go bald from exhaustion in their pursuit of sales? How will they explain this to their companies?

The best part was in the second half, but they wouldn't air it. Money was flying everywhere, but no photos were left.

In fact, even if it was allowed to take photos back then, no one cared.

Making money is the priority.

Now that I think about it, what am I going to do about my job?

After racking their brains, some reporters had a sudden flash of inspiration.

If you only say you can't say much about what happened on the day, then what happened on the day isn't considered a scene, right?

Hey, let's skip An Qin altogether and just keep chasing after the mysterious investor behind the gallery.

That rich young master from a wealthy family, the daughter of a tycoon—it's all so boring; you can find that kind of persona everywhere.

They assigned the two absurd new identities based solely on their conversation that day.

【The Night King and the Empress】.

But don't say that the audience just likes this kind of thing.

Newspapers that earnestly reported on the miraculous money-flying incidents saw their sales plummet, while this one stood out.

After all, no matter how many money flew around at the scene, I didn't pick it up.

But this mysterious underworld tycoon's high-profile confrontations are something everyone loves to watch.

He wanted to drag the reporter out and beat him up, but then he thought... why should wage slaves make things difficult for other wage slaves?

Let them make something up. What's wrong with making a living?

Bai Weiran shook his head and turned to walk into the gallery.

Xx

A special reception room was set up on the second floor.

This place is specifically for receiving guests who are interested in purchasing paintings.

It was also decorated in a particularly luxurious way.

Unlike the clean atmosphere of the other rooms in the gallery, this room is glittering with gold as soon as you step inside.

The red velvet armchair, the exquisite and luxurious decorations and wallpaper that felt almost heavy, and the glittering crystal chandelier that hung down, making its presence impossible to ignore.

They repeatedly emphasized the word "noble".

To determine the price of something, you must first ensure that its appearance matches the price.

Qin Ning was sitting on a red armchair, smiling at a well-off woman sitting opposite her.

Her two small hands were placed on her lap, perfectly upright, a standard business posture.

"Oh...you want to buy this painting..."

"Yes, I really like it. As soon as I saw this painting, I felt... how should I put it..." The rich lady hesitated for a moment, covered her mouth with a small handkerchief, and pointed to the painting in front of her of a girl holding a kitten that had fallen into the water.

"Yes, it has a beauty that penetrates the soul."

“Sigh, when I look at the people in the painting, I think of my younger self.”

"It's so similar, that melancholy, that loneliness, that sadness that the world doesn't understand... Yes, a sadness that only I understand, and I also feel that the girl in the painting looks very much like myself."

Qin Ning's gaze drifted from the girl's single eyelids in the painting to the wealthy woman's double eyelids.

Then the focus shifted from the girl's thin lips in the painting to the rich woman's thick, full lips with lipstick on.

She smiled.

"Yes, they really do look very alike."

“I also think that this painting being painted by you, my wife, is a match made in heaven.”

The wealthy woman smiled happily at the agreement, "Then, then what is the price of this painting..."

From the beginning until now, Qin Ning has been beating around the bush with her, never mentioning the painting at all—

Qin Ning immediately stretched out her hand, put a finger to her lips, and made a shushing gesture.

"Madam, you can't do this."

The wealthy woman was stunned for a moment, clutching Xiao Papa tightly, her expression tense.

"Asking about prices is not something suitable for you." Qin Ning frowned, her expression a perfect blend of melancholy and gentleness.

“This is a matter of soulmates, I beg you, don’t tarnish it with such vulgar things.”

"I believe it belongs to you, and you belong to it."

A light shone in Qin Ning's clear black and white eyes. She suddenly leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice.

"Give me a price today."

"No, it's not just the price of the painting, but the price you feel it's worth."

The wealthy woman's eyes widened even more.

"Let me...let me name my own price?!"