Charlotte twirled her pen absentmindedly, her gaze drifting casually towards the stage. "This should pretty much sum up the overall level of this competition," she thought. "No matter how good the Design Number Six is, it can't surpass what's already been shown." As the model gradually emerged under the spotlight, Charlotte suddenly felt a sense of unease. She sat up slightly, her eyes fixed on the model. With a beam of light shining down, everyone in the audience could see the garment adorning the model. It was a deep purple gown, crafted with overlapping layers. The inner layer was satin while the outer layer draped in a gradient of blue and purple chiffon. The combination of light and dark hues resembled ink strokes on canvas, creating a splendid yet subdued effect. On the skirt, subtle embroidery of floral motifs and fluttering blue butterflies adorned the fabric, emitting a hint of fragrance. The most daring aspect was a bold placement of a singl

"I'm fine..." Marlowe replied, sinking into the sofa slowly, her mind replaying Yosef's demeanor, a sense of unease creeping in. Those desserts weren't prepared for her... How could it be?  Marlowe's gaze shifted to Diana, who was lounging nearby, immediately dismissing the thought. No, it couldn't be her! Yosef's implication must have been that the desserts were for all the designers competing here, not just her. Yes, that must be it! Just then, a voice interrupted her thoughts. "The competition resumes..." Marlowe instinctively looked up. On the live screen in front of her, the judges were gradually taking their seats, their expressions somewhat complex. After more than ten minutes of the show, the competition finally got back on track. The judges, one by one, ascended the stage, their expressions a mix of seriousness and contemplation. Previously, there was an decision to favor contestant number three. Yet suddenly, at

A group protected John, dodging the onslaught. Ethan nervously said, "Boss, it's too dangerous. You should leave first, we'll go save Ms. Thompson!" John didn't respond. After a moment, he reached out to Xavier. Taking a silver gun from his hand. "Keep going." With that, he strode forward, leading the way towards the direction of the press room. The others had no choice but to follow. Meanwhile, Diana watched as the group of outlaws closed in, facing the appearing bodyguards and opening fire. Soon, a group of bodyguards not far away fell in unison, the ground stained with a layer of crimson. Seeing the blood, the group seemed especially excited, shouting wildly. Diana watched all of this, her brow furrowed. Their marksmanship was precise, and they wielded heavy weapons, definitely not ordinary thugs. Diana quickly scanned the area. Eleven people. She and Misoup, al

"Crap! I'm gonna take them down!" Adams grabbed the machine gun, ready to open fire, but then he sensed something was off. He slowly turned around, only to be met with the barrel of a gun, pitch black against the shadows. A man holding a silver pistol stood above him, his face as grim as death. At that moment, his piercing gaze locked onto Adams's face. Adams was taken aback. He was about to signal his comrades to act quickly when suddenly, there were screams from beside him. Several men had thin blades pressed against their necks. The remaining brown-haired man and a burly fellow with bare arms both had blades dangerously close to their throats. Mitbahl grinned maliciously. "Don't move, or you'll be dead." All of this happened in the blink of an eye. The men stood frozen, like puppets, not daring to make a move. Adams's eyes trembled as he faced the icy man before him, feeling an

Sure enough, there was an entrance. He jumped in. The space inside wasn't large. Upon descending, he saw a figure lying on the ground, a black suit covering his face. Motionless. Godber frowned. Could he really be dead? He called out, "Mr. Nelson?" After a few seconds, came a weak response. "Hmm." Godber felt a slight relief. Thankfully, he was still alive, albeit barely. He sighed inwardly. While John was up there playing tough, Mr. Nelson was lying here like a dead dog. Why was there such a stark difference between people? "What are you thinking?" a voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. Godber turned his head and saw that Yosef had removed his suit jacket, revealing his excessively pale face. His eyes, dark and piercing, bore into Godber's. Sharp and penetrating, as if he could see right through him. Godber suddenly felt a pang of guilt