William Sherman neither admitted nor denied it. By now, dusk was approaching, and the room was unlit, the light dimming. The man looked just like one of those gods enshrined in temples—without joy or sorrow.

“But I still instinctively ruled you out as a suspect, even though my intuition had already pointed me in the right direction—tell me, am I a bit slow?” Logan Sullivan sighed. “I used to think ‘idiot’ was just a humble way for smart people to refer to themselves, but now I realize, I really am a bona fide idiot.”

“I was full of suspicion toward Shennong when I met that old man… Hmm, was that really Shennong himself?”

“No, Shennong is already dead,” William Sherman said. “That was just a phantom he left behind while he was alive.”

“No wonder he could still laugh so cheerfully after being split from head to toe.” Logan Sullivan remarked, then reached out to William Sherman. “Aquadrake Orb—I mean that scale, can I have it back now?”

William Sherman hesitated for a moment, then took out the scale formed from the Aquadrake Orb and placed it beside the tea tray.

Logan Sullivan picked it up between two fingers, turning it over and over to examine it. “Looks like a snake scale… Is it Fuxi’s or Nüwa’s?”

William Sherman seemed to have become an automatic server, answering every question: “It’s Nüwa’s.”

“Aquadrake Orb brought me back to eleven years ago. I followed Shennong’s medicine cauldron, went down to the underworld, and saw you. You and the cauldron attached to my dad were at odds, both looking at each other with clear dislike. At the time, I thought your behavior was just like that of a stranger.”

“I refused to believe it was real, but at the same time, I felt it was. So I went to Ghost City and bought a book—the very one whose origin I was investigating a few days ago. The shopkeeper told me that I had bought it myself eleven years ago. Sure enough, the existence of that book proved that everything I saw had really happened.”

William Sherman frowned slightly.

“The book was called ‘Ancient Secrets Record’. I read it before I went to the top of Kunlun Mountain. If not for it, I might never have gone to Kunlun at all.” Logan Sullivan slowed his speech. Suddenly, he really wanted a cigarette, so he fell silent, tapping his lighter gently on the table.

A small flame leapt up, and at the moment it lit, the sound of burning cigarette paper was especially clear.

“I had the book with me at the time, but when Aquadrake Orb took me back eleven years, it turned into a roll of blank paper, because there was already an identical ‘Ancient Secrets Record’ in that timeline. When you brought me back, it disappeared—right, I haven’t asked yet, how did you bring me back?”

“Soulcleaver can cut through anything.” William Sherman reached out and gently tapped Logan Sullivan’s forehead. Reflected in William Sherman’s pupils, Logan Sullivan saw a flash of golden light on his own forehead, and heard William Sherman say, “Your soul bears my mark. As long as I have enough time, I can find you. That book… ‘Ancient Secrets Record’—what happened to it?”

“The writing in the book disappeared eleven years ago, turning into a roll of blank paper, which I threw into the River of Forgetfulness back then,” Logan Sullivan said.

William Sherman looked at Logan Sullivan, and with his keen mind, he already understood what Shennong had done.

“On one hand, Shennong warned me to be careful of you; on the other, he entrusted me with something—not what he said at the end, but what he started hinting at as soon as Aquadrake Orb took me away. He was hinting at the word ‘reincarnation’.”

William Sherman said nothing, and Logan Sullivan continued on his own: “Look, I bought the book, discovered it years later, read it and became suspicious, traced its origin, found out I was the buyer, then was sent back eleven years and actually bought the book myself—that’s a closed loop, a cycle. And after leaving that cycle, ‘Ancient Secrets Record’ disappeared, forever left within that loop. People living on the surface of a giant sphere can never reach the edge; the paths circling a fixed circle are endless. In the cycle, life is death and death is life; there’s no essential difference between the two, so there’s no real ‘death’ in the true sense. This also echoes Fuxi’s ideas in the Eight Trigrams.”

William Sherman suddenly lowered his head and couldn’t help but give a self-mocking smile. “You don’t need to say any more, I understand.”

Logan Sullivan turned his head and exhaled a smoke ring, remaining silent.

“So you knew back then that the shoddy fake memories in the sacred tree couldn’t have been Shennong’s doing—he was a sage after all, able to see five thousand years ahead and behind. When he left behind the phantom, Nüwa’s snake scale, and the oral secret record, he probably already foresaw what would happen now—everything is linked, the beginning and end echo each other. That’s the work of the head of the Three Sovereigns.” William Sherman said softly, “I really can’t compare to him.”

Logan Sullivan squinted through a cloud of smoke, picked up the teapot, and poured William Sherman another cup of tea. “No, you’re just different people, standing in different positions. Actually, the ‘me’ in the sacred tree, when raising the banner of rebellion, all that grief and defiance in his heart wasn’t mine, but yours, right?”

William Sherman unconsciously picked up the small purple clay cup, brought it to his nose and sniffed, not knowing what he was smelling for. In the end, he gave a bitter smile. “I just regret not being born earlier or gaining wisdom sooner. In the end, I still missed that great war between gods and demons.”

Logan Sullivan picked up the kettle and refilled the teapot with hot water. “After leading me in circles for so long, can you tell me the truth now?”

William Sherman asked quietly, “Do you really want to hear it?”

Logan Sullivan looked at him deeply. “Say it yourself—I won’t hate you, no matter what.”

Author’s note: The idea that people living on the surface of a giant sphere can never reach the edge, and that the paths circling a fixed circle are endless, actually comes from ‘Inception’.

Chapter 91 Soulbound Lamp …

Charles Gray’s phone kept vibrating. The caller ID was a strange, unfamiliar number—not a mobile, nor a proper landline, with lots of 4s at the front. Charles Gray glanced at it and thought it looked like one of those TV shopping numbers, probably a telemarketer. Since everyone was discussing serious matters, and although he didn’t quite understand, he sensibly pretended to be trying hard to follow, letting the phone vibrate away without answering.

But after a long discussion, no one had come to any conclusions. Instead, the Aquadrake Orb given by Seth Viper had made Carter Shaw suspicious. Having spent years living among graves and practicing corpse cultivation, Carter Shaw’s temperament was far from bright and sunny. He was occasionally a bit dark, a true conspiracy theorist.

“Your fourth uncle definitely knows something,” Carter Shaw asserted. “Otherwise, why would he suddenly take you away at this time, and just so happen to have you hand the Aquadrake Orb over to Chief Zhao now?”

Holly Harlow crossed her arms over her chest, frowned, and took a deep breath.

Everyone in the office—human and ghost alike—fell silent for a moment. Then, Old Barnes, the day-shift messenger who liked to carve bones, suddenly spoke up. He said, “Actually, I… I do have a bit of information.”

Everyone looked at him. Old Barnes seemed a bit embarrassed and gave a sheepish smile. “I’m just an old bachelor, nothing to do after work, so I like to go to the antique street, have tea and play chess with a few old buddies. A couple of days ago, I heard one of them mention this. He said the guardian snakes his family worships at home have all left in the past few days, and won’t even eat the offerings. Same with other families. Looks like the snake clan is pulling out of Dragon City completely.”

Holly Harlow was stunned. “This… My fourth uncle never mentioned it to me.”

“It’s not just the snake clan. Look, spring is almost here—do you see a single crow in the city? Those crow clan bastards, the slightest disturbance and they run faster than rats.” When Darrin Grant mentioned “rats,” it was obvious from the way he wrinkled his nose that he was expressing utter disdain—for a cat, probably everything worth despising in the world could be summed up as “rats.”

“My fourth uncle…” Holly Harlow paused, her frown deepening. She’d been raised by Seth Viper since childhood, and in her mind, he was practically omnipotent. She’d never seen him troubled by anything; as long as he was around, it seemed nothing could go wrong for the snake clan.

Holly Harlow knew that if he hadn’t told her anything, it was probably just because he was afraid she cared too much for Logan Sullivan. When nothing was happening, maybe he thought she’d quietly walk away if she realized there was no hope. But if she knew he was in danger, how could she possibly leave so easily at a time like this?

But what could be so serious that Seth Viper wouldn’t even try to come up with a solution, and would just move the entire snake clan away immediately?

Of everyone, only Darrin Grant vaguely understood—whether it was the disturbances in the underworld or that strange book from eleven years ago, everything seemed to point back to events over five thousand years ago, to an era when the sky collapsed and the gods fell. It was definitely no small matter.

Yet it could also see clearly where Logan Sullivan stood.