C1 The Small Security Guard of the Beauty Parlor

"Oh no!"

In the dimly lit room, Ye Xiaofeng, who had been deep in slumber on the bed, jolted upright. His normally handsome features were now contorted, his eyes bloodshot and brimming with a murderous rage. In that moment, Ye Xiaofeng resembled a furious tiger, his entire being radiating a perilous energy.

His gaze swept sharply around the room. The spiritual energy within him, a product of his practice of the Forbidden Arts known as the Ghost Valley Immortal Cultivating Secret Technique, surged through his veins. Upon noticing the emblem of a beauty salon etched on the door, Ye Xiaofeng's lethal intent swiftly withdrew, the savage energy retreating back to his core.

Yet, the eyes that had once blazed with a killer's fury now bore the sheen of utter despair.

A familiar silhouette haunted his thoughts. Ye Xiaofeng's fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his flesh, drawing blood that trickled down his fingers. The haunting, all-too-real visions clung to his mind like an unshakable shadow.

In that vision, the stunning visage of Qin Lan fell before his eyes—a sorrow that Ye Xiaofeng would carry with him for a lifetime.

A gentle tap on the door preceded its opening.

A striking woman in her mid-twenties stepped inside. Her features were captivating, her figure flawless, accentuated by a fitted black blazer with a slightly open front revealing a glimpse of black lace lingerie and a tantalizing white cleavage. She was Dung Mengna, the proprietor of the beauty salon, her legs encased in black stockings as she approached Ye Xiaofeng.

"Xiaofeng, try to relax," Dung Mengna's soft voice floated to him as she reached his side.

Ye Xiaofeng turned to face her, his eyes hollow and steeped in despair. Dung Mengna felt a twinge of concern at the sight.

Though Ye Xiaofeng served merely as a security guard at the salon, Dung Mengna's instincts told her there was more to him than met the eye. It was this intuition that had led her to make him the salon's sole male employee.

With a delicate touch, Dung Mengna's pale hand caressed Ye Xiaofeng's anguished face. Her eyes then fell upon the tangled bedsheets, her brow furrowing ever so slightly.

Ye Xiaofeng's eyes were vacant, his body frozen in place, a haunting echo of the living. His muscles tensed, his handsome features twisted into a grotesque mask.

"Xiaofeng, please, you're frightening me," Mengna pleaded, cradling his face in her hands, her eyes brimming with softness as they met his.

The scent of Chanel from Mengna's skin coaxed Xiaofeng's expression back to life. His hands stirred, drawing her into the curve of his embrace.

A blush tinted Mengna's cheeks, lending a captivating allure to her features, reminiscent of the actress Chen Hao.

Xiaofeng's lips found Mengna's with mechanical precision, and she, with a bashful flutter of lashes, let her eyes fall shut as they drew closer.

But as their lips hovered on the brink of contact, a crash of shattered porcelain pierced the moment.

As the sole security guard of the salon, Xiaofeng's brow creased with concern.

Mengna's lips curled into a slight smile as they finally met his. Unfazed by the disturbance, their kiss was a gentle collision, even as the sound of breaking porcelain echoed once more.

Mengna's eyes fluttered open to Xiaofeng's troubled gaze. She sank onto the nearby bed, her mood dampened, while Xiaofeng, with the ferocity of a caged tiger unleashed, strode towards the commotion.

He burst through the door and into the grand hall, where a man in designer attire was conspicuously present. Xiaofeng recognized him as Sunn Rongbai, the wealthy suitor who had been persistently wooing Mengna.

A shattered vase lay at Rongbai's feet, a stunning woman to his left, and opposite him stood a salon attendant, her cheek marred by the stark imprint of fingers.

"Damn it, I'm going in with her today, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" Rongbai bellowed at the attendant.

Xiaoli, the young attendant, wore a look of distress, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. At Rongbai's words, she shuddered, her vulnerability palpable.

Sensing Ye Xiaofeng approaching, Sunn Rongbai lifted his right hand, casually flashing a Rolex watch valued at several hundred thousand dollars on his wrist.

With a fierce swing, Sunn Rongbai's hand hurtled toward Xiaoli's face. Frozen by his menacing glare, Xiaoli stood petrified, utterly clueless about how to evade the impending strike.

But just as his hand neared Xiaoli's cheek, Sunn Rongbai winced from a sudden, sharp pain in his wrist. He turned furiously to find Ye Xiaofeng gripping it tightly.