Following the diagram step by step, Bella studied as she worked, matching theory with hands-on practice. She was careful—terrified that if she got overly bold, she might end up with a few extra pieces on the ground.
Meanwhile, the woman in white—after going through an entire inner emotional journey—finally crawled out of her gender-related logical bug. She stopped obsessing over it and tried to nudge the event back onto its "proper storyline."
"Take me home."
Her voice was low and magnetic. After speaking, she bit her lower lip and even threw in a flirty wink.
Unfortunately, that wink was wasted on a blind person.
"Don't bother me. Can't you see I'm studying?" Bella snapped impatiently, flipping through the repair manual, tapping here, poking there.
Bella's total disregard for common sense made the ghost woman fall into another loop—like a broken recorder.
"Take me home."
"Take me home."
"Take me home…"
Bella fiddled with the engine for a long time—nothing. The thing didn't even twitch. It was like any machinery near this ghost got glitch-debuffed.
She really had no options left. And with three extremely unlucky vampire idiots potentially catching up, she needed to get off this backroad ASAP.
"Can you fix my truck?" Bella asked.
No one had ever made such an unreasonable request of her. The ghost's mentality was about to explode.
If it were a nice car, maybe she'd get it. But this? A beat-up old pickup that still reeked of potatoes in the back. Insulting.
But not fixing it wasn't an option—she didn't want to keep wasting time with Bella either.
She reached out and tapped the hood lightly.
Bella lit up—the engine roared to life!
The ghost stared straight at her. "Take me home."
Right. First, get out of here. Ghost or no ghost, she could just kick her out halfway later. Easy.
Bella thought about it. Yes. Perfect plan.
She opened the door and waved. "Get in."
Magically, the pickup was back to normal. The hum of the engine was almost beautiful.
Bella drove while stealing glances at the ghost, calculating at which mile marker she'd throw her off.
She had to admit—the ghost must've had capital while alive. From the side, she was way more… generously proportioned than Bella. Even more than Natasha, who obsessed over extreme sports. What on earth had this woman eaten in life? Completely unscientific!
Less than two miles out, the ghost's complexion gradually returned to "normal." She seemed to enter "work mode."
Her eyes sultry, she undid the top button of her dress.
Bella shot her a glare.
What the hell? That's not the right reaction!
The ghost skipped phase one and jumped straight into phase two. Her left hand brushed her long skirt, slowly lifting it up bit by bit. Then she gazed at Bella with a hopeful look.
Oh hell no. This ghost wanted to compete with the Fox High School Number One Leg Queen?
Bella had chosen a slightly long white printed T-shirt and dark blue frayed denim shorts—tucked slightly in the front for aesthetics—and black sneakers. Easy to move in, stylish enough to maintain her beauty.
And the pickup had way more room than a sedan.
Bella sucked in her stomach, bent her knee, and lifted her right leg onto the dashboard. She pointed at the ghost, then at herself.
Challenge fully declared.
The ghost stared blankly, stunned for nearly five minutes before she remembered her next scripted line.
Her voice was no longer as velvety as before. At least half the seduction had evaporated. Like completing a daily quest, she asked:
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
Bella's face darkened instantly.
Excuse me?
This was blatant provocation.
She stopped the truck, grabbed her bag, and swiftly touched up her makeup. She smoothed her slightly messy hair with great care.
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
Still dissatisfied with the sudden makeover, she fixed two more spots, then raised her head with queen-level superiority.
"Do you think I'm pretty!?"
What is even happening? Are you discriminating against me?
The ghost was mentally collapsing. She couldn't even say her final scripted line—"Come home with me."
If she were still human, she would've shrugged the question off. What did someone else's beauty have to do with her?
But she was a ghost now, and beauty was her core requirement for luring men. If she were ugly enough to scare babies into crying, no amount of lust would get a man to fall for her tricks.
So this beauty-or-not question was crucial to her existence.
Add Bella's psychic power pressing down on her—Bella's overwhelming confidence dripping from every syllable—and the ghost had no choice but to answer.
"…You're prettier than me."
The moment she said it, her core shattered. She could no longer maintain her spirit form. From head to toe, she turned to dust in one second.
"She died that easily?" Bella blinked.
All she did was state the truth twice. She didn't do anything.
But scanning the area—yep, no spiritual traces left. The poor ghost was gone.
"Even ghosts admit it! Guess it's a fact—I'm just too pretty! Ahahahaha—"
Bella couldn't suppress the joy. That praise came from deep within the ghost's soul. Even stronger than all the compliments Charlie and Jacob had ever given her combined.
Charlie and Jacob praised her out of love—subjective.
The ghost's praise was pure, sincere, and delivered at the cost of her life.
Bella almost wanted to tell Death:
If there are more ghosts like that, please send me a thousand!
But there weren't. When she finally left the small road, she realized that after driving nonstop for a day and night, she'd somehow reached California.
At this moment, Death's attention snapped back onto her—sharply. The killing intent in her death-sense shot up by nearly eighty percent. Exhausted, she didn't dare stop; she kept driving south.
While Bella dealt with the woman in white, the three vampires weren't idle.
Hard-headed as ever—they insisted on chasing her. James, the white vampire with absurdly sharp senses, passionately vowed to drag out Bella's "partner" and tear him limb from limb.
To be fair, his power was strong. During one attempted accidental-death attack, he suddenly grabbed at empty air and actually caught something.
Something invisible.
He was very confused—he'd never encountered such a strange enemy before…
Death felt provoked. The three vampires were furious too. No one intended to give up.
They were all doubling down.
You create a coincidence and blow up a microwave?
Fine. I'll tear down the whole house so you can't use it.
You start a fire to burn us?
We run—and while running, we observe your attack timing and counterattack whenever there's even a sliver of opportunity.