Logan Sullivan walked toward the valley. He felt the air growing thinner, and the oppressive sensation in his chest intensifying. It was as if his temples were being squeezed, and only he could hear the rapid thumping of his own pulse. His vision was beginning to darken. Logan Sullivan slowly adjusted his breathing—panting too hard would only exhaust him.

He pinched his palm, a strange intuition rising in his heart—if there was something that Zach Warren couldn’t let go of even after becoming a ghost, it definitely wasn’t her long-decayed corpse, but this.

The little puppet that had crawled into his watch suddenly poked its head out, its jawbone clattering noisily, muttering something unintelligible. Clearly a coward, it wanted to stop Logan Sullivan but didn’t dare come out of the watch.

Logan Sullivan simply slapped it back into the watch face, his expression growing more grave as he pressed on under the immense pressure. He pulled out three yellow talismans from his chest. These three were different from the others—each had the words “镇魂” written in cinnabar in the corner. If the black cat were here, it would recognize them as the legendary Soulbound Order.

Without any visible movement, every three steps Logan Sullivan took, one Soulbound Order in his hand would spontaneously combust. When the last one burned out, three whip cracks sounded in the air, and a long whip appeared out of nowhere in Logan Sullivan’s hand. The whip’s tip extended forward, as if alive, pulling him onward… until he saw a white shadow, nearly dissolving in the daylight.

Logan Sullivan’s face darkened. With a sudden flick of his wrist, the long whip lashed out, snatching the white shadow into the air. Zach Warren’s plastic body had long since vanished; her soul was so weak it was barely holding together, yet she still kept her eyes open, looking at him with a calm, almost devout gaze, like someone at the end of their life.

“Damn it, you really are crazy.” Logan Sullivan scowled, yanked her over, and, cursing under his breath, stuffed Zach Warren whole into his watch. At that moment, he felt as if his heart was about to explode from pain. “What a hellhole.”

Having caught Zach Warren, Logan Sullivan immediately prepared to leave. But just then, something seemed to draw his attention. He couldn’t help but look up, glancing in the direction where Zach Warren had just been standing.

There stood a massive stone stele, dozens of meters tall, towering skyward. It was pitch black, thick at the top and narrow at the bottom, like a giant wedge driven deep into the earth. Below it was a ring of ruined, man-made altar. The stones of the altar were covered in the incantations of the Hanga people, perhaps some kind of ritual text. Below that was an offering table, freshly laden with bloody sacrifices.

The moment Logan Sullivan’s gaze met the monolith, countless faces suddenly surged from its surface, densely packed, each one howling in agony. The deafening screams pierced his ears—the most harrowing sound that could ever be uttered by humanity, as if millions were shrieking at once.

Logan Sullivan felt as if a massive boulder had slammed into his chest. His mind buzzed, pain flooding his entire body in an instant. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, struggling to stay upright, but the agony left him numb to his limbs. His knees buckled, and he fell backward.

For several seconds, Logan Sullivan could neither see nor hear. His chest convulsed with pain, and then, amid a ringing in his ears, he was left almost numb.

I can’t pass out here, he thought. Resolutely, he used his bloodstained hand to draw the knife hidden in his pant leg, raising it to stab his own palm.

But a cold hand caught his wrist mid-motion. Logan Sullivan was pulled into someone’s embrace from behind, and amid the scent of blood, he caught a faint, familiar fragrance—the cold, subtle scent from the end of the Yellow Springs.

It was… Soulwarden?

The knife in Logan Sullivan’s hand clattered to the ground. Relief washed over him, and he finally lost consciousness.

Chapter 37 Terra-Spike …

The black robe on Soulwarden was like a mist impenetrable even by sunlight. Instantly, it rose up to form a barrier several meters high, enclosing the two of them and shutting out everything, even the daylight.

He scooped up Logan Sullivan, pressed a hand to his watch, and commanded in a low voice, “Come out!”

The little puppet timidly floated up, its head disproportionately large compared to its body, not daring to approach Soulwarden. Soulwarden shot it a glance, then with a wave of his hand, swept it back into his sleeve. “Get back here.”

The little puppet didn’t dare protest, obediently curling into a ball of gray mist and rolling back into his sleeve as ordered.

Zach Warren also emerged from Logan Sullivan’s watch, taking half a step back and glancing at Logan Sullivan with concern.

Soulwarden looked at her coldly, his gaze so dark it was terrifying. Zach Warren couldn’t help but start trembling.

After a long moment, Soulwarden finally looked away, sat down on the ground, and carefully adjusted the person in his arms to a more comfortable position. “You belong to him. Right or wrong, it’s not my place to judge. Just sit over there for now.”

Zach Warren didn’t dare approach him. After a moment’s hesitation, she edged along the boundary of his gray mist, finding a spot as far away as possible within its protection.

Soulwarden seemed worried about dirtying Logan Sullivan—even though the man had already made a mess of himself—so he carefully set aside the Soulcleaver. Only then did Zach Warren notice that the hilt was already stained black with blood.

Then a pale hand reached out from his sleeve, which seemed as deep as a black hole, and gently—almost tenderly—wiped the blood from the corner of Logan Sullivan’s mouth. When his fingertips brushed Logan Sullivan’s lips, he paused imperceptibly, as if he might lean down and kiss him the next moment, as if he were holding some fragile, priceless treasure, not the foul-mouthed, rough-living master of the Soulbound Order.

Zach Warren stared in shock, eyes wide.

No one knew how much time passed before Logan Sullivan finally woke up, finding his head resting on someone’s shoulder. He frowned, feeling as if he’d just vomited his guts out, his insides turned upside down, his whole body drained.

He forced his eyes open and glanced at Soulwarden. “You…”

He’d barely spoken a word when a cold finger pressed against his lips. Soulwarden placed his hand on Logan Sullivan’s back and said softly, “Don’t speak. Focus.”

Then a gentle, icy power slowly flowed from Soulwarden’s palm. Logan Sullivan shivered from the cold, but didn’t pull away. He closed his eyes, letting the other man tend to the wounds he’d unexpectedly acquired.

The coldness of Soulwarden came from his innate ferocity and violence, yet Logan Sullivan felt the turmoil in his chest gradually calming under that hand.

Logan Sullivan couldn’t help but admire Soulwarden. He had held the Soulbound Order for years, and whenever something heinous or inexplicable happened, Soulwarden would always handle it personally. They’d worked together for years, and Logan Sullivan had never seen him lose his composure or manners.

Soulwarden always seemed so calm and courteous, using extreme self-restraint to suppress his inherent violence, never letting a trace slip.

Extreme restraint, sometimes, is also the pursuit of ultimate freedom. If someone can suppress even their own nature for centuries, they must live in pain, but also—they must be truly remarkable.

After a long while, the pain that felt like it was lashing his soul finally faded. Logan Sullivan opened his eyes and sat up. “Thank you, thank you. Running into you this time proves my luck’s finally turning after a string of bad breaks.”

Soulwarden seemed reluctant to withdraw his hand, but let go and moved back a little, politely saying, “It was nothing—though you really shouldn’t have ignored my warning.”

“It was all because of that damn girl,” Logan Sullivan said bluntly, pointing at Zach Warren, who stood nearby with her head down. “I was worried something would happen to her. Everyone at No. 4 Guangming Road is my responsibility during work hours. I can’t just ignore them.”

Then his face darkened as he turned to Zach Warren. “Get over here!”

Zach Warren silently shuffled closer. Logan Sullivan flicked his whip at her. Instinctively, Zach Warren squeezed her eyes shut, but the whip didn’t strike her. It just brushed past, curling in the air and sweeping the ground, leaving a heavy white mark.

“Why are you closing your eyes? I don’t hit women. Come closer.” The long whip turned into a talisman, drifting down into Logan Sullivan’s hand, still stained with a bit of blood. Logan Sullivan glanced at the blood, then at Zach Warren. “The Soulbound Order can’t command you anymore, is that it?”

Without a word, Zach Warren knelt before him.

But Logan Sullivan wasn’t having it. “Get up. Don’t kneel to me. What’s the point? My wallet’s still in the car, I don’t have any lucky money for you.”

Zach Warren bit her lip.