982 Death with A Strike

Time went by slowly for a month.

Sir System had managed to fill up the thirteen magic bubbles in which the Grim Reaper exhaled. This was quite a strenuous work.

Fang Ning collapsed on the floor of the System Space, looking relieved to be finally freed of it all.

"Only a small amount of work and you're exhausted to the brim. Don't you feel embarrassed?" Sir System mocked.

"Listen to what you're saying! A man with smarts like mine wouldn't stoop so low if I didn't have to chase that spirit general away for justice," Fang Ning said.

"Cut it out. I think that it's meaningful, you doing such jobs. Definitely a hundred times better than reading novels," Sir System said greedily. "Next time, I'll loan some magic from the Magical Energy Bank for you to purify them, and then I'll sell the product to them for a high price as another way to earn money."