Mr. CEO Loves The Devilish Beauty - Chapter 427 - Won't Say Anything

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

- Description from Novelupdates

Zhou Peng accidentally travels through time, finding himself in a weakened and sickly body with a shattered dantian, unable to cultivate qigong. Fortunately, the heavens show mercy by bestowing upon him an upgrade system.A waste? That's all in the past...Leveling up by slaying monsters, effortless and hassle-free, he no longer has to worry about cultivating.Killing monsters grants upgrades, and so does killing people. In the eyes of others, the awe-inspiring and prestigious sect masters are nothing but shining golden bosses in his sight...With the ability to upgrade, who am I afraid of? When so-called geniuses encounter roadblocks and fail to breakthrough, all I need to do is slay a few more beastly demons. Of course, sect heads, sect masters, realm lords... are even better.For the sake of my path to divinity, offer up your lives!

A letter to break off the engagement leads Ling Family in Tangyang to endless doom. And he, Ling Zhang, is tortured to death after his legs are cruelly broken.

Weary reader, it is an honor that you have chosen this book amidst the heavy, dim library.Regrettably, this book is unwell.Your fingers should be able to feel the raised growths on the surface of its cover,Words written in bygone days are like parasites rooted in the pages, hoping for someone to observe their wriggling,To feel, to decipher, to touch the essence of this ailing story.If you insist on borrowing this book, please make sure to regularly check your own physical condition.