Logan Sullivan rarely looked so serious as he asked, “If I didn’t ask you to come with me, where would you spend the New Year?”

William Sherman: “…Whether I celebrate or not, it’s all the same…”

“Would you go back there?” Logan Sullivan interrupted him. “To the underworld? Where there isn’t even a single ray of light, and the only company is the occasional wandering soul, lost and confused about their past and present lives?”

…No, it’s even worse than that.

William Sherman had always thought none of this mattered, but for some reason, after hearing Logan Sullivan say it like that, he suddenly felt deeply wronged. The kind of life he’d long grown used to—now, just thinking about it, he felt he couldn’t bear even a single day more.

But after a moment of silence, William Sherman only replied in a calm, even tone, “It’s fine. I’ve always gotten by like this.”

From the dawn of time, when all things first gained spirit, up until now, the world has changed countless times. Yet he still clung to a promise that even the person involved had long forgotten, as if he’d lived his whole life for that single sentence.

Logan Sullivan fell silent, placing the hand he was holding over his own heart. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Logan Sullivan’s heartbeat was a little fast. After who knows how long, just as William Sherman thought he was about to fall asleep, Logan Sullivan finally asked in a low voice, “Wei… why did you choose that name?”

“It was originally the ‘Wei’ of the mountain spirit,” William Sherman lowered his eyes, his deep gaze seeming to pierce through the gleaming floor, as if seeing far into the past. “But someone once told me, while ‘mountain spirit’ fits the setting, it sounds a bit narrow-minded. In this world, mountains and seas meet, and the majestic peaks stretch on without end. Why not add a few strokes and make it a grander name?”

Logan Sullivan rubbed his nose, feeling that the tone sounded oddly familiar. “Who was so arrogant, just giving people grand names off the cuff?”

William Sherman smiled. “Just someone I happened to meet on the road.”

They didn’t continue the conversation. As dawn broke, the whole street was filled with the chaotic sound of firecrackers. Inside, the people playing mahjong were shouting over each other, little ghosts darted about in the morning light, running everywhere.

The bustle was almost dizzying.

A light snowfall marked the opening of the New Year in Blackstone, just as peace reigned across the land and the lanterns were just being lit.

In thousands of households, people breathed in the first air of the year, tinged with the scent of gunpowder amid the auspicious snow. At the start of the New Year, the human world was once again filled with countless joys and sorrows.

Chapter 65 Virtue Quill …

By almost noon on the first day of the New Year, the chaos at No. 4 Radiant Way finally came to an end. One by one, the drunken crowd bundled up and left, lining up at the door to catch taxis.

Old Barnes waited until everyone else had gone before washing his face. Somehow, he found some cleaning supplies and slowly began tidying up the office, which had been left in a mess.

Darrin Grant poked his head in, and at the sight of the disaster, he nervously drew his paws back.

Old Barnes quickly pulled out a rag, wiped down a chair, lined them up, and respectfully lifted the cat lord onto a seat. “Walk on top, it’s clean up there.”

“Once again, you’re the only one left. Young people these days, really getting more and more unreliable.” Darrin Grant grumbled in a world-weary tone, carefully using the chair as a springboard to jump onto the desk.

“I’m not the only one left, there’s still another.” Old Barnes pointed to the corner, and Darrin Grant saw Charles Gray just getting up.

“Oh, perfect. Kid, come here, I was just looking for you.” Darrin Grant glared at Charles Gray, found a coaster on Holly Harlow’s desk, nudged it aside with his paw, revealing a red envelope with a few shopping cards inside. He picked up the envelope and tossed it at Charles Gray, grumbling, “Old Zhao asked you to take this to your second uncle. Tell him that Director Sullivan says the boss is finally getting some rest for the New Year, so he won’t bother him at home. It’s just a little New Year’s gift, for your aunt and the kids to get some new clothes—ugh, stupid humans, making me deliver such nauseatingly sappy messages.”

Charles Gray took a moment to react, standing there dazed for a bit before finally remembering where he was. He gave a sheepish smile, picked up the red envelope and put it away, then turned to see Old Barnes watching them with a mop in hand and a smile on his face. He immediately rolled up his sleeves and hurried over. “Brother Li! Let me help, let me…”

And then he tripped over a chair leg and fell flat on his face.

Darrin Grant snorted, climbed in front of a computer, sat down, and awkwardly used his paw to move the mouse and open the browser.

Old Barnes noticed and quickly came over. “What do you want to do? I’ll help you.”

Darrin Grant blurted out, “Shanhai…”

The word “hai” slipped out, but the tone changed, sounding more like “he.” Then Darrin Grant stopped, staring at the screen expressionlessly for a moment before lowering his gaze. “Oh, I mean I want to check Weibo.”

Logan Sullivan had said he was off to do something “big” and would come back for him later, so Darrin Grant sat behind someone’s computer, logged into the “The Cat King Rules All” Weibo account, and idly took a selfie with the webcam to upload.

Old Barnes and Xiao Guo quietly cleaned up the mess beside him. In that brief moment, Darrin Grant realized that he really wanted to say he wanted to see what the pavilion twenty li outside Shanhaiguan was really like.

But the elder of the crow clan had a point—what good would it do to see it? The dead are dead, dust returns to dust.

With a click, Darrin Grant uploaded his chubby face to the internet, adding the caption “Peerless Handsome Cat.” Soon, some cat lovers left comments below. Some praised the cat’s pure fur color, while others kindly suggested, “Blogger, your cat is too fat! You should watch its diet and take it out for more exercise to keep it healthy.”

Darrin Grant instantly deleted that comment, fuming inwardly, “Stupid humans.”

The bell around his neck swayed with his movements, but made no sound, only occasionally reflecting golden light onto the snow-white walls.

Old Barnes couldn’t help but raise his hand to shield his eyes from the glare, glancing back at the inexplicably downcast black cat. He was about to say something when Carter Shaw walked out from the wall. It was said that the first day of the New Year was the only time he was allowed into the library, but he didn’t look like he’d borrowed any books or checked any materials. His expression was very strange, a mix of mockery and, unconsciously, a hint of sorrow.

Charles Gray quickly stood at attention and greeted him, “Brother Chu!”

Carter Shaw seemed not to hear, picked up his bag, the corners of his mouth lifting into what could almost be called a grim smile, and headed for the door.

Darrin Grant poked his head out from behind the monitor and asked out of nowhere, “How many years has it been?”

Carter Shaw paused, his voice hoarse. “Exactly three hundred years.”

Darrin Grant let out a sound of surprise. “So… should I congratulate you?”

Before he finished, Carter Shaw suddenly pulled out a pitch-black wooden plaque from his waist. Without looking back, he raised his hand and waved it in front of the cat. Charles Gray wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he thought he saw some writing flash across Carter Shaw’s face, right on his cheek, like the tattoos criminals had in ancient times.

Darrin Grant perked up his ears and widened his eyes.

Carter Shaw’s fingers gripped the plaque so tightly they turned pale, the veins on the back of his hand standing out menacingly.

Then, without a word, he strode out. Darrin Grant immediately turned to Charles Gray and said, “Xiao Guo, get a cab and see your Brother Chu home!”

Seeing Charles Gray respond in confusion, Darrin Grant emphasized, “He’s had too much to drink. Make sure he gets home safely before you come back, understand?”

Charles Gray quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe his hands, then jogged after him, taking Carter Shaw’s bag. Carter Shaw seemed lost, letting Charles Gray take his things without any reaction.

His back looked so thin that, for a moment, he seemed almost skeletal.

William Sherman had just left with the dead-drunk Logan Sullivan. At their university, the fat, sycophantic director suddenly called him, saying he urgently needed a document.

William Sherman found it very strange and was about to ask for details, but the director, sounding like his pants were on fire, hurriedly gave instructions and hung up.

With no other choice, William Sherman had to bring the clinging, unwilling-to-let-go Logan Sullivan back to his own cold, rarely used little apartment.

No sooner had they stepped inside than, as if by coincidence, the director called again, insisting he deliver the document to the west gate of Blackstone University.

Logan Sullivan, sprawled on his soft sofa, rolled over, cracked his eyes open in a drunken daze, and said, “On the first day of the New Year, did that fat guy at your school take the wrong medicine or something?”