The two people in front walked away, cursing under their breath, completely unaware that they had just narrowly avoided a crisis.

Carter Shaw turned back and shot Charles Gray a glare, thinking not only was he sick with a savior complex, but he was downright abnormal—so lacking in temper and backbone that he didn’t even seem like a hot-blooded young man, barely even like a person at all.

Carter Shaw shook off his hand irritably and pointed at the grocery bag in his hand. “Your family can’t even put food on the table, so you’re out here reselling groceries during the New Year?”

“No, I was just delivering it for someone. I didn’t expect the bag to suddenly break.” Charles Gray trotted after him, looking rather embarrassed. “I—I’d better carry it myself, it’s not far now.”

Carter Shaw impatiently dodged his hand, frowning. “Lead the way.”

Charles Gray immediately fell silent and scurried ahead to show the way.

They passed Station Front Street, twisted and turned into a small alley, and soon reached the city’s bustling lights. The alley was lined with a row of shabby little houses. Deeper inside, a schoolgirl with a ponytail was sweeping the doorway. When she saw Charles Gray, she greeted him cheerfully, revealing a volunteer badge from a certain university hanging around her neck.

Charles Gray felt a bit shy in front of the girl, lowered his head awkwardly, and mumbled a mosquito-like “Hello.”

The girl was sharp-eyed. Seeing the big bag in Carter Shaw’s hand, she immediately dropped her broom to help push open the door, asking Charles Gray as they walked in, “Did you register? Did you print it out? You have to tag everyone online to thank them.”

Charles Gray was always slow and not very quick-witted. At work, he often made their supervisor Zhao so anxious he’d start cursing outright. But once Charles Gray finished, he was always meticulous and thorough. No matter how long or trivial the report, there was never a single typo. Over time, even their most nitpicky leaders had nothing to complain about.

Charles Gray nodded quickly and pulled out a stack of printed papers from his pocket—seven or eight pages in all—carefully recording who had donated what, along with donors’ contact addresses, phone numbers, online handles, emails, and so on. The donations ranged from various amounts of cash to a single cabbage—truly all sorts of things.

It turned out this was a volunteer initiative called “Care for the Elderly, Care for the Young,” organized by several universities in Blackstone in collaboration with social service groups during winter break. Charles Gray’s group focused on elderly people at the bottom of society who had lost the ability to care for themselves, with each small team responsible for a few seniors long-term.

Since Charles Gray wasn’t good at socializing, he couldn’t handle keeping the elderly company or soliciting donations. Luckily, there were plenty of girls on the volunteer team, so he just helped out with physical labor, working as a mover during the holidays.

After helping them drop off the goods, Carter Shaw drove Charles Gray’s car and took him to No. 4 Guangming Road. Charles Gray’s palm had been chafed raw by the nylon bag, and he sat silently in the passenger seat, wiping it with a wet tissue.

Rarely in the mood to chat, Carter Shaw said, “You want to help everyone? Planning to save all living beings?”

Charles Gray stared at him in surprise, eyes wide and innocent.

Carter Shaw changed the question: “Does your family know you do this?”

Charles Gray shook his head silently.

Carter Shaw gave a small, puzzled smile, then said, “So did you go burn incense on New Year’s Day? People like you, your wishes are likely to come true.”

Charles Gray shook his head again. He was more than satisfied with his current life—his family and friends were all safe and healthy, so there was nothing more to wish for. Since everyone seemed fine, he figured it was best not to trouble the Bodhisattva for nothing.

At a red light, Carter Shaw glanced sideways at him. Charles Gray wasn’t tall, strong, or handsome; his features weren’t particularly attractive, and he was always so low-key he didn’t even own a single trendy brand name item. He was the type you’d lose in a crowd. Lacking confidence, he certainly couldn’t be called charismatic.

Yet when he sat quietly, saying nothing, his calm expression exuded an indescribable, natural sense of Zen.

Even though Charles Gray was just an ordinary person, eating and drinking like anyone else, not even clear on what “cultivation” meant, barely able to read the scriptures, and only familiar with two Bodhisattvas from the famous TV series 《Journey West》—Guanyin and Tathagata, and still unsure of their genders because of the actors—

Yet Carter Shaw could sense that he was quietly cultivating something, as if no one else was around.

It wasn’t for blessings in this life, nor for merit in the next.

With Carter Shaw’s insight and experience, he could only vaguely sense something, but couldn’t put it into words.

Even though Carter Shaw didn’t understand why Charles Gray did these things, it didn’t stop a sudden discomfort from rising in his heart—part resentment, part indignation.

Not to mention anything else, but with all the merit this kid had accumulated, shouldn’t he have a safe and happy life? How could he be born with such a short fate? Everyone knew the Book of Life and Death’s merit system was nonsense, but did the underworld have to be so blatant about it?

He fell silent, and his diehard fan Charles Gray didn’t have the courage to start a conversation either. The two of them drove in silence to No. 4 Guangming Road. Night had fallen, and both the living and the dead had gathered.

As soon as Carter Shaw entered the Criminal Investigation Division, he was greeted by a crowd of dazed demons and ghosts, as if they’d all been struck by lightning.

Before he could ask what was going on, Zach Warren turned around, trembling, and asked, “Brother Chu, did you know that Professor Shen… William Sherman is actually the Soulwarden?”

Carter Shaw was stunned for a moment, then calmly said, “Oh, Logan Sullivan is such an idiot, is there anything he wouldn’t do? So where is he? Ran off after screwing up?”

Darrin Grant meowed from the side, “He jumped into the River of Forgetfulness.”

Carter Shaw: “…Heartbroken? Suicide?”

Darrin Grant and Holly Harlow, after their initial panic, had basically calmed down.

Holly Harlow knew that Logan Sullivan always carried the Aquadrake Orb, so no body of water could harm him. She had just hung the Aquadrake Orb around Logan Sullivan’s neck when this happened. Holly Harlow thought, if she were any more suspicious, she’d think Uncle Snake Four had known something in advance.

Holly Harlow said, “I guess he probably went to find the Soulwarden.”

Carter Shaw glanced around. Aside from Julian West, who was still out of town and had promised to take the midnight train back, the core team at No. 4 Guangming Road was basically all present. He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the office door. “Here’s what I think: let’s all share what we know. Things have been too chaotic lately. Let’s pool our information and figure out what’s really going on and what we should do—”

At this point, Carter Shaw suddenly paused, his face darkening, making everyone else nervous. “Brother Chu, did you think of something?”

“Wait, William Sherman is the Soulwarden?” Carter Shaw’s face turned green, and after a long moment, he muttered, “Shit, I’ve teased him so many times before!”

…So sometimes, the calmest people just have the slowest reactions.

Logan Sullivan had long lost all sense of time and space. Being locked up in the Primewood and in the River of Forgetfulness were two completely different experiences.

The indescribable pressure in the darkness made his temples feel like they were being squeezed together. Gradually, a deep, hypoglycemic-like nausea and weakness filled his chest, growing stronger the further he went. He didn’t even dare move his head, feeling that even a slight shake would make him faint, his heart pounding as if it would leap out of his chest, the sound of his arteries throbbing in his ears growing unbearably intense.

Just then, Logan Sullivan saw a glimmer of light.

The light was even dimmer than a firefly, but to eyes accustomed to darkness, it was almost torture. He raised his hand to shield his eyes, involuntarily drawn toward the faint glow.

It was a massive ancient tree, its trunk stretching beyond sight, nearly a hundred meters in diameter, yet it was dead—no leaves at all, only withered, gnarled branches, rough and ancient to the touch.

Logan Sullivan’s spirits lifted. Could this be the Virtue Tree?

He walked nearly another kilometer downward and finally reached the tree’s roots. After drifting for so long, Logan Sullivan’s feet finally found solid ground. He circled the Virtue Tree once and found an old stone stele on one side. By the tree’s faint light, Logan Sullivan could make out the inscription.

He’d never seen these words before, yet somehow recognized them—“Heaven and Earth, Demon City, Land of Great Irreverence.”