"What's going on?" Conan Doyle's back felt cold. She gently touched Lan Ting with her shoulders and reminded her: "Lan Ting, what's wrong with you?"

But Lan Ting did not answer her, but a strange smile shaved from the corner of her mouth and her eyes bent slightly.

"Lan Ting? Are you okay? Lan Ting." She asked again with concern, and at the same time turned her body forward and looked into her eyes hard.

But something strange was that she saw Lan Ting's eyes rolling up, and her eyes were covered by her eyelids. Her skin, which was already a little tender and white, was pale as if it was a piece of white paper without a trace of blood. She touched Lan Ting's hand, and it was actually cold and harsh.

Based on her rich experience in handling supernatural events, she is sure that Lan Ting is a ghost.

"Yin Hui, no, Lan Ting was overwhelmed by a ghost." Conan Doyle quickly retreated and reminded Yin Hui.

Yin Hui, who was anxious to deal with the matter behind him, heard Conan Doyle's reminder, quickly turned around and looked at Lan Ting, who looked pale, his heart suddenly shrank, and quickly retreated back, preparing to snatch Lan Ting from the ghost's hand.

He murmured backwards, "What's going on? She's already invisible, how could she be seen by a ghost?"

With this slight doubt, he slowly walked up.

But at this moment, Lan Ting raised her pale face and spoke in a faint voice: "Who said I was on the body, who said I was on the body?"

As she said that, she swung her arm over and was about to hit Conan Doyle in the face.

At that time, Yin Hui had already attacked suddenly. The peach wood sword in his hand hit Lan Ting's chest hard. Suddenly, the soft mountain peak filled Yin Hui's whole body with numbness. He was stunned for a moment.

ah!

A scream from a strange woman came, and then a faint phantom escaped from Lan Ting's body and rushed towards the door.

Squeak...

At this time, the door actually opened. Tang Yan's curious head, which had a trace of atmosphere, leaned in from behind. Seeing Yin Hui inside, she breathed a long sigh of relief and came in.

However, when she saw Yin Hui's hand placed on Lan Ting's chest, she screamed. She was about to scold Yin Hui, but suddenly she felt her mind suddenly blurred.

Conan Doyle and Yin Hui saw that the phantom was knocked down by Tang Yan who suddenly appeared, and then she sucked it into her body.

"Ah, hooligan." Lan Ting woke up and slapped Yin Hui on the face, leaving five palm prints.

However, he didn't have time to pay attention to these things. He just looked at Tang Yan's face that turned snow-white in an instant. He was anxious and waved the peach wood sword in his hand and attacked. Finally, the peach wood sword hit Tang Yan horizontally.

A shrill scream.

The faint phantom jumped out of Tang Yan's body again and was about to escape from the door. But when the phantom approached the wall, a layer of light yellow light was released from the door covered with talismans, which looked like the door was powered on.

Bang!

As the air fluctuated, the phantom was bounced back again, and finally fell heavily to the ground without moving.

"Lingbao Tianzun, comfort the body. The soul of the disciple, the mysterious secret of the five internal organs. The Thirty-Six Amnesty Order, seal it!" As Yin Hui recited a series of mantras, the white sheets that were originally lying quietly on the bed actually flew up and finally covered the phantom.

"Conan Doyle, the Soul-Suppressing Curse." Yin Hui shouted, and looked at Conan Doyle with a sharp look.

Conan Doyle then realized that he rushed forward and the soul sealing talisman was tightly attached to the bed sheet, which stopped moving immediately.

"Okay, hurry up and tear off all the talismans around me." Yin Hui issued an order, and at the same time he wandered around the room. His huge hands were zipping around the wall, tearing off all the talismans on the wall.

Tang Yan, Conan Doyle, and Lan Ting both reacted from the shock just now, and waved their arms quickly. Soon, all the talismans on the wall fell to the ground and turned into waste paper.

Yin Hui threw the white sheet onto the bed, then approached the peach wood sword in his hand and said: "Don't worry, we won't hurt you, you just need to answer a few questions, otherwise don't blame me for beating you to death."

"The soul is gone? Hahahaha, do you think my soul is still together? I am just one soul among the seven souls and six spirits. The real soul has been taken away by someone long ago. Hahahaha." The miserable little girl's voice echoed in the hall, and even more in Yin Hui's mind.

"What does it mean? Your soul has been taken away long ago?" He stared at the white sheet in disbelief: "Who took away your soul?"

"I don't know, hahaha, I don't know." The little girl's miserable laughter became weaker and weaker: "I'm about to disappear, leaving the rest of my soul, I can't hold on for long."

"Tell me quickly, who took away your soul?" Yin Hui shouted anxiously. He also felt that the turmoil in front of him was about to disappear. He didn't understand why, and frowned at the same time: "Sensing where the other souls are, and trying to see if they can be together with them?"

"I don't know, I can't sense their existence, it's like... they... disappeared from this world... hahahahaha... ah!"

With the last terrifying cry, the sheets became softer. The talisman that was originally tightly attached to the sheets actually lost its ability to absorb, and slowly fell from the sheets with a strange evil wind.

Yin Hui threw the peach wood sword in his hand to the ground in dejectedly, took a breath, leaned his back against the wall, stroked his forehead with both hands, pursed the hair on his head, and looked worried.

"What's going on?" Tang Yan walked up and patted Yin Hui on the shoulder: "Is it okay?"

Yin Hui shook her head and didn't say anything. She just looked at Conan Doyle: "It seems that the murderer is really extraordinary. He even wants to take away the soul of the deceased."

"Pick the soul away?" Conan Doyle was surprised. Lan Ting seemed to have absorbed a very good material, and her hands quickly wrote on the paper, sometimes looking up and thinking, Yanran looked like a great writer.

"By the way, I thought of it." Yin Hui sat up excitedly from the bed and grabbed Tang Yan's hand: "Let's go, let's go to the morgue to see the bodies."

"Have you just seen it?" Conan Doyle asked in confusion.

"This time there is a new discovery. Please say hello to the leader quickly. Let's go to the morgue to wait for you." Yin Hui said that he was dragging Tang Yan here.

When Lan Ting heard the three words "Mortal" and immediately became excited. She hurriedly followed the two of them, looking like a follower, holding the pen tightly with her hands. She vaguely felt that she would definitely discover a good material and ghost story later.

Follow him, it's absolutely right!

This is Lan Ting’s only thought at the moment.

Conan Doyle hurried to the doctor's office. There were only three doctors in the huge office, all of whom were drowsy and asleep. There was usually nothing wrong at night, so they usually violated discipline and supplemented their sleep.

"Hey, wake up." Conan Doyle patted a director on the shoulder and woke him up from his dream.

"What are you doing..." The doctor muttered vaguely, then sat up from the chair and woke up.

When he saw Conan Doyle's standard American girl's face, he suddenly became energetic, and his lustful little eyes stared at her: "Hello, hello, do you have anything to help?"

He reached out to Conan Doyle with both hands and wanted to shake hands with her. But she ignored him and just glared fiercely: Give me the key to the morgue soon. I want to go in.

"Mortal?" The doctor glanced at Conan Doyle in confusion, and then asked incrediblely: "You... are kidding."

"Give me the key to the morgue quickly." Conan Doyle shouted again, and she became a little anxious.

"What do you want the key to the morgue?" Although he was a doctor, he immediately woke up his drowsy consciousness when he heard the three words "morgue" in the middle of the night. The other two doctors were also awakened by their quarrels, and looked at Conan Doyle with curious eyes.

"I'm going in. I've dealt with some things from the morgue today. Of course I'm going to go in and go to bed at night."

"What." Although the doctor believed that 99% of the incident was nonsense, the one-percent possibility still made him take two steps back quickly.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you." Another doctor walked up and held the attending doctor with a little weak legs: "They are specializing in investigating the murder case in Room 109. They are going to investigate tonight, so they are here again."

"Shh." Hearing the doctor's explanation, he took a long breath and looked at the doctor behind him with reproachful eyes: "Why didn't you say it earlier?"

When the director glared at him, he was naturally so scared that he couldn't say a word. He lowered his head and retreated back to his seat.

"It's just that what do you go to the morgue in the middle of the night? What if something happens?" Conan Doyle just asked him to make a fool of himself, how could he let him go easily? After all, he is the chief doctor and has great power. Both doctors and nurses and patients' families are flattering to him. When have they been scared like this, let alone make a fool of himself in front of his own hands.

"Okay, you can follow me and supervise us to see if we steal the body." Conan Doyle understood that he was deliberately making things difficult for them and gave him a blank look.

The director shouted anxiously: "You..." But he didn't say anything anymore, just looked at Conan Doyle in anger.

She was anxious, and now she had no time to get entangled with him here. She walked up and danced her hands quickly, and actually pressed him down on the table: "Be honest and give me the key quickly."

"Ah!" The director screamed, his hands were pressed against each other, his face tightly against the table, and he shouted in anger: "I can't, I can't give you the key."

"Hmph, it seems you won't cry after seeing the coffin." Conan Doyle sneered, his hands pressed harder, and the director's hands were bent to a strange angle. He sneered: "It seems that I have to use my trump card."
Chapter completed!