Logan Sullivan picked through the papers, flipping them over as he explained to Charles Gray, “Paper talismans are essential tools. It’s best to keep them organized when storing them—by category, for example, attack, exorcism, and so on—so you can find what you need when the time comes. If you just toss them around, you’ll never find the right one when you need it. Learning how to use them is a skill in itself…”

This unreliable leader actually started giving a lecture, unhurried, right in the middle of the victim’s pig-like screams from the bed.

Charles Gray didn’t have nerves of steel; he couldn’t focus at all, his attention completely drawn to the miserable victim.

“Take her case, for example.” Logan Sullivan continued, pointing things out on the middle-aged woman’s body like a medical professor lecturing over a cadaver. He walked over and lifted the woman’s ear. “You don’t have the Heavenly Eye, so you can’t see her loss of yin virtue, but you can use a very basic talisman to help.”

He pulled out a talisman and handed it to Charles Gray: “This is called the Heavenly Eye Talisman.”

Just as Charles Gray reached out to take it, Logan Sullivan suddenly flipped his hand and, with a crisp “pop,” stuck it right onto Charles Gray’s forehead. “Like this.”

Caught off guard, Charles Gray was treated like a mummy, and immediately felt an indescribable chill radiate from the talisman on his forehead, as if it had weight, knocking into his brow. His vision blurred, and the world before his eyes changed instantly… but he couldn’t quite say what had changed.

“Come over and take a look.” Logan Sullivan beckoned him over.

Charles Gray quickly lowered his head, and at that moment, he was horrified to see that the victim lying on the bed was shrouded in an inexplicable black aura. Her face, which had only looked a bit haggard before, now appeared disturbingly strange, with a faint air of death about her. Her legs, which should have been perfectly normal, were now completely swallowed by the black mist, leaving only jagged thighs exposed.

Looking again at the woman’s ear, Charles Gray saw a large black mark behind it. The color wasn’t deep, but it was ashen and almost smeared across her neck, like a bizarre birthmark.

“Blackness behind the ear indicates a loss of yin virtue.” William Sherman suddenly spoke from behind Charles Gray. “A person’s deeds are all recorded in the Book of Life and Death. Every time someone does evil, a little ghost leaves a black handprint behind their ear. The darker the mark, the greater the evil. In her case, the marks aren’t deep, but the area is large. This means she’s never committed any major crimes, but she’s selfish and constantly commits small wrongs.”

William Sherman paused, then added, “Of course, this isn’t a crime deserving death. Whatever’s harming her is going too far.”

At first, Charles Gray nodded humbly in agreement, but soon realized that the person he was bowing and scraping to wasn’t quite right. He looked at Professor Sherman as if seeing an alien.

“What are you staring at?” Logan Sullivan turned his head. “That’s the real expert. I was just blind before, didn’t recognize greatness when I saw it.”

Charles Gray had only been surprised before, but after hearing this, he was utterly shocked, looking up to this “Mount Tai” in awe.

Logan Sullivan then produced another talisman, again holding it in front of Charles Gray for him to see clearly. “This is a simple exorcism talisman. It’s pretty basic, so sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Of course, if it doesn’t work, it helps us judge how strong the opponent is.”

Charles Gray: “…”

He didn’t really want to imagine how the woman on the bed felt hearing that.

As Logan Sullivan slapped the yellow talisman onto the woman on the hospital bed, Charles Gray, with the help of the artificial Heavenly Eye, saw a huge mass of black energy erupt from her like a geyser, clawing its way upward, hitting the ceiling and then falling back down. In midair, it condensed into a twisted human face, mouth wide open, letting out a hysterical scream at them.

It all happened in a flash—one moment it was a theoretical lesson, the next it was a haunted house horror show. Charles Gray let out a yelp and reflexively bolted for the door, only to be grabbed by the collar and hauled back by Director Sullivan, who seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.

Logan Sullivan calmly held Charles Gray with one hand, the other in his pocket, and stared down the thing in midair for a moment before muttering, “Strange, why is there so much resentment?”

Charles Gray: “Ghost! G-ghost!”

Logan Sullivan snorted, “What’s so new about that? Haven’t you seen a ghost before? If there weren’t ghosts, you wouldn’t be here.”

“It’s hurting people! It’s a vengeful ghost!” As Charles Gray shrieked, a burst of strong electric light erupted from his pocket. Fortunately, Logan Sullivan was experienced by now and quickly let go and stepped back, even in front of his own handmade artifact. The black shadow in midair received the same treatment as the one in the Hanga tribe’s secret tunnel.

“We hadn’t even questioned it yet—why’d you kill it?” Logan Sullivan grumbled after the black mist had completely dissipated, smacking Charles Gray on the back of the head.

Charles Gray looked at him, almost in tears. “I… I was scared…”

“Couldn’t you have held it in for a bit?” Some idiotic leaders never think things through and love to make impossible demands of their subordinates.

Unfortunately, Charles Gray was a die-hard fan of his own boss, always both respectful and fearful, wishing he could treat even Logan Sullivan’s farts as golden rules, convinced that whatever the boss did must make sense.

Hearing this, Charles Gray immediately did as told, holding his breath in silence until his face turned red, still feeling his liver tremble. In a mosquito-like voice, he muttered, “I… I really can’t hold it in.”

Logan Sullivan gave him a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable, scaring Charles Gray so much he almost let off another 100,000 volts. But then, the heartless leader suddenly laughed and praised, “You really are entertaining.”

Charles Gray: “…”

He couldn’t help but feel that compliment was a little odd.

William Sherman glanced at the two of them and finally spoke up, “Don’t bully him.”

Without another word, Logan Sullivan immediately demonstrated his excellent “listen to the wife, follow the Party” qualities, letting go of Charles Gray’s collar and standing at attention, so swift and well-trained he could probably make the finals of the next “Famous Dogs Competition.”

The woman on the hospital bed had completely calmed down. She had witnessed the whole process, and after staring in shock for a while, she finally came to her senses, struggling to get up and kneeling on the bed to bow repeatedly to Charles Gray. “Thank you, immortal! Thank you, little immortal!”

Charles Gray was mortified. “No, no, I, I, I…”

His tongue tied, face flushed, his mind went blank in front of the strange woman. The electric baton in his pocket sparked with a “crack,” nearly setting Logan Sullivan’s coat on fire.

Charles Gray quickly shut his mouth, finding a sense of security but also deeply empathizing with the plight of Lightning Babe.

Logan Sullivan straightened up, pulled over a chair and sat down, waving at the woman on the bed. “Alright, no need to bow. I just have a few questions for you, and I hope you’ll cooperate.”

The middle-aged woman nodded eagerly.

“Yesterday, did you also eat an orange you bought on the street before you ended up in the hospital?”

“Yes, it was already dark. I went to the supermarket to buy some things, and when I came out, I saw someone selling oranges by the roadside.”

“Wait, did you see the fruit seller when you went into the supermarket?” Logan Sullivan interrupted her.

The woman thought for a moment, looking a bit puzzled. “I don’t think so? I don’t think I did. I was planning to buy fruit, so if there had been someone, I would have noticed.”

So, they were waiting there for her on purpose.

“What did the fruit seller look like?”

“Uh… a man, pretty thin, wearing a ragged wool hat… I think he was also wearing a shabby gray cotton coat?”

Logan Sullivan asked, “What about his legs?”

“Legs?” The woman was stumped for a moment, then suddenly remembered. “Oh, right! Now that you mention it, that guy seemed to have some problem with his legs, walking with a limp, struggling a bit. If you hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t have remembered. Maybe he was a cripple with a prosthetic?”

After saying this, she didn’t wait for Logan Sullivan to respond, but started voicing her own opinions: “Let me tell you, mister, all these cripples, mutes, and other disabled people are no good. Those people are missing parts, so their minds are twisted. It’s only natural for them to poison others, right? If you ask me, they should all be rounded up and kept in one place. They can’t live normal lives anyway, and they just disturb social order.”

Logan Sullivan frowned. Hearing this, he finally understood how that big black handprint got behind the woman’s ear. Some people are just born lacking virtue, every pore exuding a biting, petty malice—not fatal, but always ready to bite.