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I don’t know why, but Springbloom seemed to be somewhat afraid of William Sherman. Her gaze only swept over him briefly before she obediently looked away and turned to Logan Sullivan, grinning as she said, “Uncle Black Cat said the Lord is a real handsome guy. Why are you wearing such big sunglasses?”

Logan Sullivan took off his sunglasses and clipped them to his collar. “To win sympathy—if a little girl sees such a handsome brother and finds out he’s blind, maybe she’ll give me a bit more flower nectar.”

Springbloom giggled for a while, then looked carefully at his eyes, frowned, and quietly asked Uncle Seth, “What happened to the Black Crow clan? Why would they go and provoke mortals for no reason?”

Uncle Seth patted her head, lowered his eyes, and didn’t answer.

Springbloom glanced around again. “No one from the Crow clan came to the night banquet this year?”

“Not just here, it’s the same at night banquets elsewhere,” said Uncle Seth. “Don’t worry about these things. Focus on your cultivation, and when it’s time to announce spring, make sure your flowers bloom well.”

Springbloom responded gloomily, took out a small bottle, pulled Logan Sullivan’s hand over, and placed it in his palm. “The clan leader asked me to bring this to the Lord, and he also asked me to pass on a message: from now on, whatever the Lord needs, just let him know, and we’ll do whatever you ask.”

Logan Sullivan was taken aback. “At my command? No, no, your clan leader is being far too polite…”

His words were suddenly interrupted as, at some point, a little monkey had jumped onto the platform on the bridge and struck a bronze gong with all its might.

The demons immediately quieted down, and many stone tables and chairs appeared by the roadside. Springbloom exclaimed, “Oh! The banquet’s starting, I have to go on stage. Lord brother, I won’t talk to you anymore, take care.”

Logan Sullivan: “Wait—”

Springbloom had already transformed into a vine of flowers, quickly winding across the entire platform on the stone bridge, wrapping every railing with flower vines. In an instant, the little stage on the stone bridge looked festive and full of life.

Logan Sullivan’s hand, which had reached into his pocket, hadn’t had time to take anything out. In his pocket was a small cloth pouch, a gift from Darrin Grant, said to be a treasure of a previous Soul Guardian Lord—in other words, his past life, or perhaps the life before that. It was a tiny luminous cup, engraved with a few moonlight flowers, exquisitely lovely. It was said the cup could store moonlight, making it a rare treasure for flower demons to cultivate with.

Logan Sullivan’s original intention was to use this to trade for the flower demon’s Thousand Blossom Honey, but who would have thought they’d give it to him for free, and with such reverence, as if making an offering.

The flower demons’ attitude made the Black Crow clan’s yet-unseen attack on him seem all the more meaningful. As Logan Sullivan pondered this, he turned to call William Sherman to leave, but as he turned, he bumped into the corner of a stone table.

William Sherman caught him by the waist, pulled him close, shielding him from the many little demons sneaking glances their way. He turned to Uncle Seth and said, “This is a demon clan night banquet, and we’re outsiders. Now that our business is done, perhaps we should leave early and not disturb you further?”

Uncle Seth glanced at his possessive gesture, and replied unhurriedly, “Since you’ve already been seated at our table, you’re our honored guests. At least have a drink to warm up before you go?”

William Sherman frowned.

Uncle Seth said, “Next year is my clan’s zodiac year, and I’m hosting this year’s night banquet. Please excuse me for a moment.”

With that, not waiting for William Sherman to refuse, he dragged his long snake tail and trailing sleeves, and slowly ascended the high platform on the bridge. Music started up again, this time not the strange zither and flute duet, but an ancient sacrificial song.

In the distance, a clear female voice sang: “Heaven gave birth to all things, beginning at Buzhou.”

All the demons fell silent. Uncle Seth folded his sleeves and lowered his gaze, then began in a deep, low voice: “Out with the old, in with the new. At the year’s end, all demons pay respects to the Three Saints, to the Great Wilderness Mountain God, to the ancestors of all clans—”

The demon crowd all stood up, facing northwest in silent worship.

The female voice continued, drawing out the notes: “In the Great Wilderness, the mountains are at odds, atop the clouds stands the pillar of heaven. The son of Zhurong became the Water Emperor, led the dragon to strike, and the stars shifted…”

Logan Sullivan raised his eyebrows in surprise, lowered his head and quietly asked William Sherman, “Who are they singing about? Sounds like they’re talking about the water god Gonggong.”

William Sherman was still frowning, his face growing darker. Hearing the question, he just nodded, replying tersely, “Yes, it’s him.”

Logan Sullivan asked again, “Are they talking about the part where Gonggong knocked down Buzhou Mountain?”

William Sherman again gave a very brief answer.

Logan Sullivan: “But wasn’t Gonggong the water god? Who’s this Great Wilderness Mountain God they’re talking about? Does Buzhou Mountain have its own mountain god?”

This time, William Sherman was silent for a moment, then replied vaguely, “…Maybe? I’m not really sure about things from back then.”

Logan Sullivan seemed to pick up on something in his tone, and didn’t ask further. He just tapped his palm with his fingers, keeping time with the song.

The demon clan’s lyrics were long and rambling, going on and on about the ancient struggle between Zhuanxu and Gonggong, and how Gonggong, in a fit of rage, damaged public property and toppled Buzhou Mountain.

It was said that because Gonggong crashed into the mountain so recklessly, the world gained the order of the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, and so on. It sounded like this story was closely tied to the origin of the demon clan, but the lyrics never made the connection clear.

Much of history is incomplete, and one can only infer hidden meanings between the lines—let alone such ancient and unreliable mythology. Logan Sullivan knew he shouldn’t dig too deeply into a few old lyrics, but he couldn’t help it. It was as if a voice inside him was telling him that these seemingly unrelated things had some great significance.

He’d never heard of ancient gods moonlighting in other professions. Since Gonggong was already the water god, he couldn’t possibly be the “Great Wilderness Mountain God” the demons worshipped, who ranked just below the Three Saints.

So which local official managed to become so famous for all eternity?

Logan Sullivan’s fingers paused, and suddenly he remembered those two words from the Crow clan—Highspire.

After who knows how long, the demons finished their worship and sat down. Beautiful female demons wove through the crowd, serving tea, pouring wine, and bringing dishes. The night banquet of the demon clan officially began.

William Sherman, using the excuse of having to drive, refused the wine, and watched as Logan Sullivan drank a cup. Then he urged, “Shouldn’t we take our leave now?”

Logan Sullivan nodded and was just about to stand up.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out among the demons.

Logan Sullivan leaned over and asked, “What’s going on?”

William Sherman glanced at the high platform. “That snake just pushed a half-demon onto the stage. The half-demon’s demonic aura is leaking, shrouded in black mist, and he reeks of blood. He must have committed quite a few crimes. Probably, to keep him from bringing divine retribution down on others, the demon clan is going to deal with him themselves. It’s their old tradition.”

If Charles Gray were here, he’d recognize this man as the one he nearly ran into the other day.

Logan Sullivan listened for a bit, realized it was someone else’s internal affair, and lost interest. As Uncle Seth read out the man’s crimes, he offered his arm to William Sherman, letting him help him out.

As they were about to leave, Uncle Seth finished reading and announced, “Half-demon of the Crow clan, who has strayed from the righteous path and harmed others many times, violating the laws of heaven. We, though unworthy, are willing to cleanse our ranks and act on heaven’s behalf…”

The words “Crow clan” made both Logan Sullivan and William Sherman pause in their steps.

At that moment, a voice at the door suddenly interrupted Uncle Seth: “Wait!”

The voice was so hoarse it was almost inhuman, carrying an indescribable sense of foreboding.

William Sherman immediately pulled Logan Sullivan behind him, his gaze turning so cold it could freeze. At the entrance to the demon market stood a row of people in black robes, unremarkable in appearance, each with a pair of black wings on their backs.

It was the Crow clan.

Chapter 64 Virtue Quill …

Logan Sullivan grabbed William Sherman’s wrist. Even though he was blind, he could feel the murderous intent radiating from the other man, so intense it was almost tangible, sharp enough to cut.

He heard William Sherman’s voice, no longer its usual gentle tone, but low and chilling, almost sinister. William Sherman said, “The Crow clan dares to hurt you? Such ungrateful wretches—cutting them to pieces, wiping out their clan wouldn’t be enough…”

The last few words were nearly spat out with bloodthirsty fury. Without thinking, Logan Sullivan pulled him into a hug. William Sherman instinctively struggled hard.

Somehow, in that moment, Logan Sullivan was struck by inspiration and blurted out, “Xiao Wei!”

William Sherman suddenly froze, motionless for a long while, then asked in a trembling voice, “You… what did you call me?”

“Shh, listen to me, don’t move.” Logan Sullivan closed his eyes, opened his Heaven’s Eye—blurred by the influence of the demon market—and pulled William Sherman back a bit, hiding the two of them among the crowd of demons.