Boom! Boom! Boom!
In a matter of seconds, souls exploded and dissipated one after another.
Yang Jingtai sat slumped on the ground, clutching his shoulder. Cold sweat drenched his forehead as he looked up at the young Ghost Hunter.
The tall man in black hooked his index finger. The umbrella spun back into his hand, and he sheathed his long sword. From start to finish, not a speck of dust had touched his fingers, and even the hem of his robe remained unruffled.
In contrast, Yang Jingtai sat paralyzed and covered in blood, looking as if he had just survived a desperate struggle. His heart was filled with an indescribable bitterness. Recalling how the other man had kicked him down to serve as bait without a single word of warning, Yang Jingtai cursed the man’s ancestors in his head. However, meeting that ice-cold gaze, Yang Jingtai forced a smile and squeezed out through gritted teeth, “Thank you for saving me.”
Wen Yaozhi glanced at him coldly. “I will not save you again. If you are afraid, you can go back now.”
Yang Jingtai bit his lip. The commission was only half-finished; giving up now would mean all his previous efforts were for naught. He used a blood-stanching talisman to temporarily press down on his wound and struggled to stand up, trying to act nonchalant. “I am fine.”
Wen Yaozhi ignored him and continued walking toward the depths of the cave.
The wall lamps along the passage were bright. The entire basement was so quiet that a pin drop could be heard, with only the echoes of two sets of footsteps, one in front and one behind.
As they passed through the narrow passage, the view ahead suddenly opened up. Vast expanses of white crystals transformed the entire underground cavern into a stunning ice cave. The flawless, pure white made it feel as if they had fallen into a completely different dimension.
Yang Jingtai marveled silently. A piece of this white crystal, even the size of a fingernail, would be worth more than ten of his usual commissions.
Near his feet lay a small fragment, looking like a discarded scrap from mining.
He crouched down, cautiously picking up the small piece with two fingers to examine it closely. Although he was not an expert in ores, even a layman could see that the crystal’s purity was exceptionally high, containing no impurities at all. Keeping an eye on the silhouette ahead out of the corner of his eye, Yang Jingtai silently tucked the fragment into his pocket.
“I did not expect a mine to be hidden beneath this villa,” Yang Jingtai said, standing up as if nothing had happened and surveying his surroundings. “White crystals are worth a fortune. If people found this place, they would likely kill for it.”
The man in front gave no reaction, only letting out an ambiguous, soft huff. To Yang Jingtai’s ears, it sounded like a piercing sneer. He thought to himself, I do not believe you are not tempted too. He feigned a high-minded attitude. “There are so many crystals here; the owner surely will not notice if one small piece is missing.”
Wen Yaozhi acted as if he had not heard a word, walking through the crystal cavern without slowing his pace once.
They reached a fork in the path where both left and right led into deep tunnels.
A faint golden glow flowed in Wen Yaozhi’s left eye. He stepped toward the left, and Yang Jingtai followed closely behind.
Suddenly, a gust of yin wind swept in from behind, and the wall lamps flickered dim for a moment.
Wen Yaozhi stopped.
Yang Jingtai looked up in bewilderment.
The slender man turned around. His voice was cold, carrying a tone that brooked no negotiation. “I am asking you one last time: transfer the commission to me.”
Years of being a slick operator allowed Yang Jingtai to hide his resentment well. He wore a mild smile. “You are S-rank; you have no shortage of commissions. Why fight me for this single order?”
Wen Yaozhi glanced at the darkness behind the Taoist. A flash of mischievousness flickered in his eyes for a split second. “Then, forget it.”
The next second, long, crimson nails lunged with extreme speed, gripping Yang Jingtai’s neck from behind.
It was lightning-fast. The Taoist did not even have time to reach into his robe for a talisman.
Black hair, like tangled seaweed, wrapped around him, carrying a damp, cold yin energy.
A female ghost’s sullen, hoarse voice whispered in his ear, “Who told you that you could touch my things?”
“What?” Under the intense pressure, Yang Jingtai’s voice was strained.
The ghost’s long nails reached into his inner pocket, pulling out that small piece of white crystal. An eerie blue light reflected in her intoxicated black pupils.
Seizing the opportunity, Yang Jingtai drew a small peachwood sword from his sleeve and stabbed backward with all his might. The blade pierced the ghost’s chest. White vapor sizzled from the wound, yet the ghost seemed to feel no pain.
She tilted her head slightly, studying the pale-faced Taoist. Her blood-red nails carved countless bloody gashes into him. “Thief! Die!”
She grabbed Yang Jingtai’s thinning hair with one hand and his neck with the other.
Just as his head was about to be torn from his shoulders, Yang Jingtai looked at Wen Yaozhi in despair. “Master, save me! The mission is yours! I will give it to you!”
Wen Yaozhi looked at him without a shred of pity.
At the exact moment the neck was about to snap, Wen Yaozhi lightly snapped his fingers.
A long sword whistled through the air. With immense force, it sent the long-haired ghost flying, pinning her against the cave wall. The ghost waved her arms in fury, her once-beautiful face now twisted and hideous.
Yang Jingtai collapsed on the ground like a pile of mud, gasping for air. He was covered in blood, with new wounds layered over old ones. He no longer had the strength to crawl up. The master persona he had held when entering the villa had completely vanished.
Wen Yaozhi crouched beside him and held out his hand. “Hand it over.”
With trembling fingertips, Yang Jingtai reached into his chest and pulled out a contract paper.
After taking it, Wen Yaozhi scanned it quickly, his gaze lingering briefly on the words “Soul Suppression.”
Stowing the paper away, he hooked his finger again.
“What?” Yang Jingtai asked in a raspy whisper.
“The phone you use to contact the client. Give it to me.”
Faced with this daylight robbery, Yang Jingtai had no strength left to refuse. He handed over an old-style mobile phone.
Wen Yaozhi checked the phone. It had a full signal. He confirmed the contact list, twirled the phone in his hand, and slid it into his coat pocket.
He patted Yang Jingtai’s shoulder. “Good work. Take a rest.” Then, he turned and walked away without looking back.
Yang Jingtai lay on the ground, his neck craned and eyes wide with shock. His damaged vocal cords could not make a sound as he watched those long legs walk out of his sight.
Deep underground, Lu Xincheng kept his eyes tightly shut. His temples throbbed and his eardrums buzzed. All his senses were heightened to the extreme.
The sound of steady, effortless footsteps echoed through the passage, drawing closer. The sound of a calm, powerful heartbeat felt as if it were pulsing right against his ear.
Lu Xincheng’s eyes slowly opened. His obsidian-black pupils were laced with threads of red, and a faint, undetectable trace of malice surfaced in the depths of his gaze.
Someone was coming.
The scent of fresh blood wafted from a distance, accompanied by a very peculiar aura. Lu Xincheng could not help but take a greedy, deep breath.
The visitor’s footsteps stopped, and a flash of slight surprise crossed his eyes. He had not expected this to be a dead end, nor had he expected to see such a familiar face.
The person leaning against the cave wall was exceptionally handsome. His face was even paler than before, possessing a fragile quality like white porcelain, which reminded Wen Yaozhi of the white crystals he had just passed.
Those eyes, once bright as stars, now flickered with a strange light, as if he had seen something that excited him.
“Yaozhi.” The tone sounded full of surprise at first, but it was underlying an attempt to suppress some other emotion.
The moment his name was called, Wen Yaozhi’s expression sharpened.
He paused slightly. “Not bad, you can still say my name.” Wen Yaozhi approached slowly, his long sword, Ziwu, held in his right hand.
“Are you going to kill me?” Lu Xincheng stared at the famous blade, tilting his head back to reveal the clear veins beneath his pale neck.
His long lashes trembled, and the innocence in his eyes was flawless. He looked exactly like a victim betrayed by his best friend.
Wen Yaozhi looked down at him, his face a mask of near-cold-blooded indifference. “You know what I do.”
Lu Xincheng stared at the chest inches away from him. At such close proximity, he could hear the blood flowing through the veins and the heartbeat was loud enough to burst his eardrums. Lu Xincheng’s throat was dry; a primal hunger for flesh and blood made him want to tear the man in front of him apart.
He bit his tongue hard. The pain blooming in his mouth brought a moment of clarity.
“I know. You are a Ghost Hunter.” His gaze dimmed, his voice carrying an unshakeable loneliness.
Even the most cold-hearted person would be moved by this sight. But as for Wen Yaozhi, Lu Xincheng did not doubt for a second that even if it were his own parents standing there, he would strike without hesitation.
Lu Xincheng stared into those murderous eyes for a long time before a smile bloomed on his lips. “It is okay, I do not blame you. But before that, I have a few things to say. Is that alright, old friend?”
That familiar smile held a strange, new sensation, an inexplicably irresistible charm. Wen Yaozhi’s eyes went blank for a brief moment.
Lu Xincheng hooked his finger, beckoning him closer.
Wen Yaozhi’s body stiffened, and he moved forward an almost imperceptible half-inch.
“That crystal is for you; find a good buyer. You will not have to work so hard after that. After all, you have to be alive to achieve what you want to do.” Wen Yaozhi’s pupils constricted, his breath hitching visibly.
Lu Xincheng looked up, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling of the cave. “That is all. My wish has been fulfilled anyway; I have no regrets.”
However, a seed of doubt grew in Wen Yaozhi’s mind.
Evil spirits are utterly malevolent, but they have one virtue: integrity. Unless a deal is fulfilled, they will not take a soul, because the soul is their pre-order. They also will not allow their trading partner to die prematurely.
What exactly was Lu Xincheng’s deal with the evil spirit? Could it have something to do with him?
“Yaozhi,” Lu Xincheng seemed to want to touch the other man’s cheek, but his hand stopped in mid-air. “I hope you can live well. I believe your parents would want that, too.”
Wen Yaozhi stared at him, his thin lips pressed tight.
“Come on. Kill me,” Lu Xincheng said, closing his eyes. “End my pain.”
Yet, Wen Yaozhi did not move.
“What are you waiting for?” When no movement came for a long time, Lu Xincheng knew his gamble had paid off. He slowly opened his eyes. Sure enough, the dangerous Ziwu had been returned to its sheath on the man’s back.
“Do you know who killed you?” Wen Yaozhi stared at his former best friend, his gaze searching but devoid of sentiment.
“I know,” Lu Xincheng whispered after a long pause.
Wen Yaozhi’s eyes turned dark and unreadable. “Do you not want revenge?”
Lu Xincheng looked directly into those heterochromatic eyes that seemed capable of seeing through any disguise. “Of course I do. But he will not die by my hand; that would be too easy for him.” Lu Xincheng’s gaze was candid, a mocking smile on his lips. “A much more terrifying retribution awaits him.”
Suddenly thinking of something, Lu Xincheng blinked. “You did not think I wanted you to avenge me, did you?”
Wen Yaozhi’s fingers gripped the contract in his pocket through the fabric of his clothes. His expression remained unchanged as he said succinctly, “No.”
Lu Xincheng did not press further and changed the subject. “But I do not remember this place well. I feel like I have been here before. Now there are so many evil ghosts. I wonder what happened?”
“Twenty years ago, many people were buried alive here.” Wen Yaozhi had clearly done his research before coming.
Lu Xincheng’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
“If I am not mistaken, several people from the film crew were supposed to rest here eternally this time as well.”
Lu Xincheng frowned, a look of confusion in his eyes.
“The person who harmed you, you are not the only soul he has claimed,” Wen Yaozhi said, his voice cold and heavy.
Dai Shengfan checked the time. They would land in an hour. He glanced at his old mobile phone.
No messages.
He frowned slightly. The efficiency of this Master was far too low.
Just then, the phone vibrated.
“Task completed. Everything went smoothly. However, the few people who went down to the cellar are all dead.”
As Dai Shengfan read the message, a satisfied smile finally appeared in his eyes, the only part of his face visible above his mask.