A Film Queen

Chapter 413

In a quiet nook, Oliver’s small figure was curled up, visibly in agony. He couldn’t suppress the dry heaves, his bony hands pressed against his lips. When he released his hands, they were stained with blood.

Contrary to his usual behaviour of reacting dramatically to minor injuries, he appeared composed as he observed his bloodied hands. He methodically rubbed them against his clothes repeatedly, gradually turning his grey shirt a deep shade of crimson.

Soon thereafter, his discomfort appeared to intensify. His deeply creased forehead remained tense, and with a bewildered look, he started to repeatedly strike his head against the wall. Despite the wall’s solid concrete structure, each impact resonated with a loud “thud”.

It seemed as though he was impervious to the pain, or perhaps, it provided some form of relief.

“O… Oliver?” King’s voice quivered with disbelief, hesitating where he stood, reluctant to approach.

Upon hearing his name called, Oliver halted abruptly.

Gradually, he lifted his hand, streaked with blood, and ran it through his hair in a slow, deliberate motion. With meticulous care, he used the cleaner edge of his clothes to wipe his face, maintaining his usual attention to appearance.

Once satisfied with his appearance, he turned his head gradually as usual, offering a foolish smile at the two of them. Yet, his face, now pallid and streaked with blood, bore an unsettling silence in his eyes.

King shivered as he beheld the scene, a cold sensation creeping over his entire body. Just moments earlier, this person had been full of life but now lay in utter silence.

He stood frozen, his legs unsteady, afraid to move even an inch closer.

Oliver appeared to notice that they hadn’t come over, his brow furrowing as if he intended to rise and reprimand them for their ingratitude. But as he attempted to stand, he abruptly collapsed with a resounding thud.

In a swift reaction, Leon and King rushed to his side, their voices fraught with concern. “Oliver!”

However, as he parted his lips, a metallic taste flooded his senses, rendering him too frightened to

that’s right-I couldn’t

the situation, gazing at Oliver with concern. He asked the question directly, “Oliver, did you take poison? What kind

King,

out of your mind? Why

laboratory, left little doubt as to what

a smile on his face as he wiped away the continuously flowing blood, gesturing

out directly, searching Oliver thoroughly, eventually extracting a small glass

it back. Yet, he could barely stand firm, let alone retrieve something from another. Leon simply adjusted his hand slightly, keeping it

the label on the side of the small bottle in the laboratory, Leon’s typically calm and composed

steadied Oliver, his concern evident as he urgently questioned Leon, “What kind of poison is

his lips, his expression darkening as he cast a scrutinizing glance at Oliver. Under his gaze, Oliver instinctively

one, our Ghost Sect doctors can manage it on

he was reassuring himself, but speaking with an

Sect’s laboratory were typically designed to induce physical discomfort in stubborn criminals. Once they reached their threshold and confessed,

it wouldn’t

if it was something more unique without an existing antidote, the Ghost Sect’s researchers would probably find a solution. They weren’t conventional doctors but skilled researchers. And if they couldn’t resolve it, the high priest could always find the

be any

find solace in

why did Leon appear so

slowly, his eyes bloodshot and his voice

complexion immediately drained

the name bestowed by Mr. Yarbrough, and it was a poison he had formulated, named after Halturia’s ‘Records of the Grand Historian: Empress Scarlett’s Annals’, a