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!”

for support, Oliver attempted his customary humour. However, as he parted his lips, a

right-I

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

hearing this, King, sensing

“Are you out of your mind? Why would you take

prison’s laboratory, left little doubt as to

as he wiped away the continuously flowing blood, gesturing with his hand as though trying to appear

Oliver thoroughly, eventually extracting a small

crossing his face as he reached out to snatch it back. Yet, he could barely

the side of the small bottle in

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

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

tell us what kind of poison it is. If it’s a common one, our Ghost Sect doctors can manage it on their

he was reassuring himself,

induce physical discomfort in stubborn criminals. Once they reached their

ingested those, it wouldn’t pose a

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,

be any

could only find solace

why did Leon

Leon spoke slowly, his eyes bloodshot and his voice trembling. “It was Silent

complexion immediately

a poison he had formulated, named after Halturia’s ‘Records of the Grand