Daqing felt completely disoriented, as if day and night had been turned upside down in its mind. Then, in a voice as faint as a wisp of air, it asked, “So… you, you guys… now, to what… to what extent have you gotten?”

Logan Sullivan rubbed his nose. “Nothing much. We’ve slept together, but just literally sleeping. He’s too shy, never let me touch him.”

Darrin Grant: “……”

Bed… shy… shy… never let touch…

These words were like a squadron of bombers, dropping a barrage of firecrackers by Darrin Grant’s ears, the booming echoing back and forth. Not even a thunderstorm in the ninth heaven could have such a soul-shattering effect on a cat.

For a moment, every little detail of how Logan Sullivan and Mr. Sherman got along flashed through Darrin Grant’s mind like fleeting shadows. Each scene left a gaping chasm in its not-so-large brain, making the poor black cat feel a surreal sense of being in another world, and a philosophical sigh—damn it, is there a more messed-up owner in the world than Logan Sullivan?

Darrin Grant struggled to push aside the thick flesh on its neck, lifted its head, and looked at Logan Sullivan with an expression that was almost worshipful, awestruck, and incredulous. After a long while, it let out a heartfelt meow, “You’re really something.”

Then the black cat, its legs a bit weak, jumped back onto the windowsill. “Do you know what kind of person the Soul Reaper actually is?”

Logan Sullivan flicked his cigarette ash. “That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you.”

“I can’t say for sure.” Darrin Grant became serious. “Since the beginning of the age of gods, with deities everywhere and little demons all over the place, this old cat can more or less tell you the origins of most things. But the Soul Reaper’s background—I can’t say. Do you know how serious that is?”

Logan Sullivan wasn’t surprised. He’d already seen the painting drawn by William Sherman himself—anyone who had seen Warden of Highspire must have lived in a time when Darrin Grant was still ignorant, so it was perfectly normal that Darrin Grant didn’t know his origins. “Just tell me what you do know.”

“Do you know Houtu?” Darrin Grant thought for a moment and asked.

Logan Sullivan was taken aback, then said, “In the Classic of Mountains and Seas, it says Gonggong gave birth to Houtu, making her a descendant of the Yan Emperor. She’s also mentioned in ‘Summoning the Soul,’ where Houtu is the deity in charge of the underworld. But in later folk legends, ‘Houtu’ is often mentioned alongside ‘Huangtian’ (Heaven), and seems to have an even higher status… There are also some legends that say Houtu is actually Nüwa.”

“Not far off,” Darrin Grant said. “Back then, Gonggong toppled Buzhou Mountain, Nüwa patched up the sky, forged five-colored stones to hold up the sky pillar, and transformed her body into yellow earth to separate yin and yang. That was the beginning of the order of the underworld. One theory is that the Soul Reaper was born from the resentment of heaven and earth; another says he was born a thousand feet beneath the Yellow Springs. But how bleak and cold the Yellow Springs are is just human imagination. In fact, the so-called thousand-zhang resentment and the underworld have nothing to do with each other—besides, when the Soul Reaper appeared, the Yellow Springs hadn’t even formed yet, so how could he have come from a thousand feet underground?”

Logan Sullivan: “You’re saying the Soul Reaper wasn’t born in the underworld.”

“Maybe very close, but I think his relationship with the underworld is more like cooperation, not any real connection.” Darrin Grant said, “It’s all too ancient, I can only guess. Later generations usually equate Houtu with the earth, but the real earth was the chaos split open by Pangu’s axe. Think about it, Nüwa patched the sky, her merit was already complete, so why did she have to become Houtu, body and soul scattered? Why did she have to cover the real earth? Whatever is there, it must have a deep connection with the Soul Reaper.”

The cigarette in Logan Sullivan’s hand was almost burned to the end, but he didn’t notice at all.

Darrin Grant sighed. “That’s all I can think of. This matter is too old, too deep. You… you, how did you get mixed up with him? Can’t you keep your pants on? Do you have to mess with everyone?”

Even more tragic, he hadn’t even had a chance to take his belt off yet…

“Too late.” Logan Sullivan stubbed out the cigarette before it burned his hand and tossed it onto a pile of discarded renovation materials. “You’re too late with that advice.”

Darrin Grant said irritably, “That’s because you didn’t tell me who he was when you first started flirting with him! Otherwise, I’d have stopped you no matter what…”

“I mean you’re too late,” Logan Sullivan suddenly interrupted, “not just by a year or two. You’re probably a few thousand years too late.”

The black cat stared at him blankly. For a moment, it almost felt like Logan Sullivan had remembered something. But Logan Sullivan just lit another cigarette, silently standing by the window, his shadow stretched long by the setting sun.

Darrin Grant stayed with him as he finished an entire pack of cigarettes. The butts littered the floor, the man’s pockets were empty, and only then did he reach out, signaling Darrin Grant to jump onto his arm as they headed out.

Darrin Grant: “Where to?”

Logan Sullivan said coldly, “Back to No. 4 Radiant Way. I’ll see Carter Shaw first, then arrange to meet the underworld envoy—anyone under my command, as long as they’re with me, I won’t let anyone bully them.”

The day shift at No. 4 Radiant Way had just left, and Carter Shaw hadn’t arrived yet. Logan Sullivan set out some dried fish and milk for Darrin Grant, then went straight into the library.

He picked up a pair of reading glasses at the door, and as soon as he put them on, he saw Zach Warren hurriedly parting ways with Zane Shaw in the corner. Logan Sullivan nodded calmly, “Carry on, don’t mind me.”

Zach Warren spat at him and quickly turned to leave.

Zane Shaw scratched his head. He was thick-skinned and didn’t feel embarrassed, walking over. “Still want Highspire?”

For some reason, the glasses hid Logan Sullivan’s eyes, and the lenses blocked his gaze, making him seem especially cold. His nose looked even more prominent, and for some reason, he’d lost a bit of weight in the past few days. When he lifted his head slightly, the sharp lines of his jaw were visible, and his handsome profile looked even more aloof and indifferent.

“No use. Anything useful has already been deliberately erased.” Logan Sullivan ran his fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf. “I want to know… things related to Nüwa.”

Zane Shaw was momentarily stunned.

“Nüwa creating humans, patching the sky, the war between Chiyou and Yanhuang, the struggle between Gonggong and Zhuanxu—I want all of it. I don’t believe they can hide one person and also hide the whole story.” Logan Sullivan pushed up his glasses, pulled over the tall ladder, and climbed up.

He sat cross-legged on the high iron ladder, tossing down each book as he finished it. Zane Shaw didn’t disturb him, just waited below, quietly collecting the books and setting them aside.

People like Logan Sullivan are usually assumed to have Playboy magazines by their bedside, or perhaps some adult videos on their tablet. But his command of classical Chinese was surprisingly strong, and he read at an incredible speed, his fingers flying across the pages, finishing an entire essay in a single pass. The only sound in the library was the turning of his pages.

Occasionally, Logan Sullivan would pause, put down the book, rub his eyes hard, and exchange a few slow, simple words with Zane Shaw.

“Buzhou Mountain was the road to heaven,” Logan Sullivan gestured, his voice slightly hoarse and sounding a bit tired as he looked down at Zane Shaw. “According to history, Gonggong and Zhuanxu fought for power, and in the end, Gonggong lost. In his rage, he rode a divine dragon and crashed into Buzhou Mountain.”

Zane Shaw took a while to process this, then nodded slowly.

“I don’t buy it.” Logan Sullivan looked at him intently. “The war between Yanhuang and Chiyou lasted countless years, the sky and earth shattered, sand and stones flew—no one would be surprised. But Buzhou Mountain was fine. Pangu split heaven and earth with his axe, and Buzhou Mountain was still fine. Even if the divine dragon had supernatural strength, what about the great roc that soared ninety thousand li in the marshes, or the giant kun of the Northern Sea that spanned thousands of li?”

Zane Shaw had learned to filter out his adjectives and nouns. After a while, in his odd accent, he said, “If it was impossible, then someone must have made it happen.”

“To cut off the road to heaven,” Logan Sullivan tapped the ancient book with his finger, “Huangtian, Houtu, the ancestral witches… If you rule out those who have fallen or disappeared, that only leaves…”

Zane Shaw looked up at him, his gaze deep.

“After Buzhou Mountain fell, Nüwa used huge stones to plug the sky that was raining endlessly, then transformed herself into Houtu, scattering her soul into the underworld.” Logan Sullivan furrowed his brow tightly and continued, “Before Buzhou Mountain collapsed, its top reached the sky, but its base didn’t connect to the earth… At that time, the underworld hadn’t even formed. Nüwa was basically holding up heaven and earth with both hands. The sky leaked rain all night, but what about the holes in the earth? The earth… the earth… the soil…”

Logan Sullivan’s voice grew softer and softer, almost muttering to himself. Then suddenly he said, “Wait, bring me the part about Nüwa creating humans again.”

As soon as Zane Shaw handed him the book, Darrin Grant slipped in and said to Logan Sullivan, “Old Chu is here.”

Logan Sullivan immediately bookmarked the page, climbed down from the tall ladder, and handed the glasses back to Zane Shaw, patting him on the shoulder.

He was about to leave when Zane Shaw suddenly spoke behind him, “At that time, there was no order, right? Everyone wanted more pow… power. The mountain… that road to heaven you mentioned, if it was cut off, maybe it was someone, and that was the end…”