He actually suspected in his heart that it was the bowl attached to his father that used his father’s hand to do this, but why? Why did it have to be Charles Gray? Other than having a bit more merit, what else was special about him? This Gregory who was the most human-like in the entire Special Investigation Department—what was his real background?

If possible, Logan Sullivan wanted to regain Warden of Highspire’s power and true memories. If not, then at the very least, he needed to know what was really going on with all the truths and lies swirling around him. He couldn’t just blindly act without any idea of what was happening.

William Sherman... just these two words were enough to make Logan Sullivan feel overwhelmed, as if a fire was constantly burning away his energy. Yet he had to endure it, and even force himself to appear calm and unruffled, as if nothing could shake him. Sometimes, Logan Sullivan found that just sitting there, as soon as no one was around, within three minutes his brows would involuntarily furrow.

There was a certain scene that would appear in his mind at any time, in any place—a place so cold and lifeless that not a single ray of light could be found. William Sherman’s body was already half swallowed by endless darkness, and he only lifted his head, straining to see the blue sky and sea outside. But his gaze wasn’t long enough, unable to pierce the boundless blackness. In the end, he seemed to finally lose hope, and with his last unspoken longing, slowly melted into the darkness...

Suddenly, someone pushed Logan Sullivan, jolting him awake, his heart pounding like thunder, his forehead covered in cold sweat.

The one who pushed him was Holly Harlow. She looked expressionless and a bit displeased as she said, “We’re here.”

Logan Sullivan was dazed for a moment before realizing that he’d just been dreaming—he’d had a few drinks with Charles Gray’s second uncle, and Holly Harlow had driven them back. He didn’t even know when he’d fallen asleep.

Holly Harlow remained seated: “What were you dreaming about? You were calling out the name ‘William Sherman’ like your heart was being torn apart.”

Logan Sullivan already felt embarrassed and didn’t want to talk to her, so he just pretended not to hear.

“Yunlan.” Holly Harlow suddenly called out to him.

Logan Sullivan paused.

Holly Harlow took a small box out of her pocket. She had tied a red string to the water dragon pearl, with a lucky knot at the end: “My fourth uncle asked me to give this to you, to thank you for taking care of the snake clan all these years. I... I might be leaving with him soon.”

Logan Sullivan frowned slightly: “Leaving? Where to?”

“I don’t know, maybe back to the clan.” Holly Harlow gave a wan smile. Seeing that Logan Sullivan didn’t take it, she simply put the red string around his neck herself, carefully fastening it. “The water dragon pearl is a sacred relic of my clan. It can ward off water and fire, keep you safe. If you have anything you need me to do, say it now. There’s not much more I can do for you.”

Logan Sullivan was silent for a while, then said quietly, “Longcheng isn’t suitable for demons to cultivate. It’s good for you to return to your clan, stay away from the crowds, less trouble. Your fourth uncle is quite something. Learn from him, you have a future. Maybe you’ll be the next leader of the snake clan.”

His words sounded like final instructions, so calm it was heartbreaking. Holly Harlow, acting on impulse, suddenly blurted out what was in her heart: “Director Sullivan, just give me one word. As long as you say it, I can cut all ties with my clan, and follow you through fire and water, no matter what.”

After saying this, it was as if she’d handed over her whole life, waiting anxiously and expectantly for Logan Sullivan’s reply.

But in the end, Logan Sullivan avoided her gaze, giving a self-mocking smile: “We have no grudges, just years of old friendship. Why would I want to harm you like that? As long as you’re well in the future, I’ll be at ease.”

The light in Holly Harlow’s eyes dimmed in an instant.

And Logan Sullivan had already gotten out of the car from the other side.

---

Chapter 83 Soulbound Lamp …

---

Darrin Grant had almost scratched through the floor of the Criminal Investigation Division before finally seeing Logan Sullivan and Holly Harlow walk in one after the other.

Even though the atmosphere between the two was obviously off, Darrin Grant felt that, as a cat, it was better to selectively ignore the love and hate among its humans. So, like carrying a mouse, it dragged over the “Ancient Secrets Record” and dropped it at Logan Sullivan’s feet: “This book is full of deathly energy. I checked, and sure enough, it was shipped out from Antique Street.”

Logan Sullivan silently picked up the book and wiped off the cat’s saliva with his hand. “Antique Street?”

“Antique Street,” as the name suggests, specializes in all kinds of antiques. Although most are fakes, occasionally a few illegally unearthed burial items are mixed in.

But this “Ancient Secrets Record” was clearly a photocopy. As long as your IQ reached human standards, no one would think this was an unearthed relic. So the “full of deathly energy” that Darrin Grant mentioned probably referred to something else—most people didn’t know that in the deepest part of Antique Street, there was a small shop that, besides selling all sorts of superstitious items, also guarded a large locust tree at its entrance.

To put it in Logan Sullivan’s words, that locust tree was a transportation hub, like a subway or bus terminal, with all kinds of routes connecting different realms. For example, from the human world to the demon market, from the human world to the underworld, and so on—all had to pass through there.

The locust tree’s branches connected to the human world, its roots to the Yellow Springs. It was a badass plant, neither fully human nor ghost.

Logan Sullivan looked up at the black cat. “So you mean, this book came from the underworld?”

The black cat nodded with dignity.

Logan Sullivan asked again, “Who brought it back?”

The black cat licked its paw. “Unknown origin. I couldn’t find any purchase record. Maybe it was the previous...”

“That’s impossible.” Logan Sullivan casually flipped through the book, which had no ISBN or publisher information. “Judging by the printing and the newness of the paper, it’s pretty recent. It must have happened after I took over. The previous era was too long ago.”

Darrin Grant said meaningfully, “Then we have our answer—it must have been a freebie with cat food.”

In other words, someone had smuggled it in by some means—this person must have been very familiar with ancient secrets, even writing the seals of the Four Pillars clearly.

The Special Investigation Department’s book collection was very organized, with colored labels and codes on the spines. That’s why even though Zane Shaw couldn’t read, he could still put the books back in the right place. So why was this book about the ancient gods mixed in with the “Nuwa Creates Humans and Mends the Sky” section?

“This is actually a ‘black book’,” Darrin Grant interjected. A so-called “black book” referred to books procured by the night-shift book buyer through certain channels from non-human realms. In contrast, “white books” circulated in the human world. Darrin Grant stretched out a paw and flipped open the pages. As its black paw pressed down, a strange black mist suddenly flowed between the pages. “Very well hidden, so much so that we didn’t even mark it. If you want to investigate, I suggest we visit Antique Street tonight.”

When night fell, Logan Sullivan finally couldn’t resist and called William Sherman. On the other end was a cold, mechanical female voice: “The number you have dialed is not in service...”

He stared at his phone screen for a while, savoring that feeling of “one day apart feels like three years,” until Darrin Grant came over, impatiently pushing his elbow with a paw. “Stop pining for love, let’s go.”

Only then did he pick up the spendthrift cat and head out. As soon as he stepped outside, he saw Holly Harlow already standing by the car, silently waiting for him.

Holly Harlow accidentally met his gaze and immediately gave a self-deprecating smile. “You must think I’m pathetic, still following you after saying all that?”

“...” Logan Sullivan paused. “I just wanted to remind you to wear your down jacket.”

The two of them and a cat drove to Antique Street in the middle of the night in a rather awkward atmosphere. They made their way straight to the big locust tree.

Logan Sullivan glanced over and saw two pale paper lanterns hanging at the entrance of the small shop beside the locust tree, each glowing with a faint light. The characters on them were tattered by the wind, but you could just make out the words “Soulbound.”

Suddenly, Logan Sullivan remembered something he’d always overlooked. He patted the black cat on his shoulder and asked in a low voice, “What exactly does ‘Soulbound’ mean?”

“To calm the souls of the living, bring peace to the hearts of the dead, atone for the sins of those not yet gone, and complete the unfinished cycles of reincarnation.” Darrin Grant finished, and in the next second switched from poetic cat to snarky cat, looking up at him with disdain. “Isn’t it written on the back of the Soulbound Order? Are you blind?”

For once, Logan Sullivan didn’t argue, murmuring, “But why is the token left by Warden of Highspire called Soulbound?”

And what did Embergrower mean by life and death?

With these tangled thoughts, he walked into the big locust tree, heading straight down the trunk—all the way to the Yellow Springs.