Every time he wanted to seek help from others or ask someone about something, he always felt like he was a big troublemaker who knew nothing. Naturally, he became afraid of the other person, afraid of any eye contact or verbal exchange. However, when he realized that the person in front of him needed his help, Charles Gray’s words always came out surprisingly smoothly.

It was as if he was born for this.

Charles Gray had a sudden idea. He waved his hand to interrupt the noisy crowd and asked, “I can’t hear what you’re saying. Let me ask questions, and everyone can raise their hands to answer, okay? May I ask, are all your missing relatives and friends working at the Quanshui Bay Villa Town? If so, could you please raise your hand?”

With a whoosh, everyone raised their hands. The policewoman next to Charles Gray widened her eyes—in fact, she had just been so overwhelmed by the noise that her ears were buzzing, only thinking about how long after an adult goes missing a case can be filed, and hadn’t realized that this might be a serious incident with a very wide scope.

Charles Gray’s thoughts became even clearer. He continued, “Now, if you’re sure your relative or friend disappeared in the villa town, please keep your hand raised. If you’re not sure, put your hand down for now, okay?”

A few hands wavered and went down, but after a moment, they hesitantly went back up.

The middle-aged man from earlier spoke up: “Sir, may I say something?”

Charles Gray: “I’m not the boss… ah, never mind, go ahead.”

“My sister works as a waitress in the restaurant at the town’s clubhouse. She didn’t come home last night, and since this has never happened before, the whole family is worried sick. In the middle of the night, my dad, my younger brother, and my sister’s boyfriend went out together to look for her along her route to work, but then the three of them disappeared too. We couldn’t reach them by phone, so I came to report it first thing this morning.” The man’s eyes were bloodshot, and he tried hard to steady his voice, wanting to sound as calm as possible. “Sir, you tell me, if it was just a young girl, that’s one thing, but how could three grown men all go missing together? I think this must be a big deal.”

His assessment was spot on, almost hitting the nail on the head. Although Charles Gray was still confused, he knew that every word the man said was true.

Hearing this, the crowd became even more anxious. Everyone who had lost a loved one was as frantic as ants on a hot pan, each trying to get closer to Charles Gray to say a few more words about their own situation. Everyone wanted to ask this seemingly “inexperienced youngster” for an explanation—he had become their savior in their eyes.

The crowd was not only talking over each other, but also pushing and shoving. A woman holding a child was pushed and fell, and the two- or three-year-old burst into loud cries. Someone shouted, “Don’t push, we’re all anxious!” and another screamed, “Watch the child! Don’t step on the child!”

It was utter chaos.

Charles Gray saw stars before his eyes—if only Sister Holly had come along… if only Director Sullivan were here.

He gripped his phone tightly, recalling Carter Shaw’s instructions: he couldn’t go back, and he absolutely couldn’t let these people recklessly go over there. But they had lost their loved ones—who could stay calm?

Charles Gray’s mind went blank for a moment.

What should he do? They trusted him so much, entrusted him and his partner with this matter. This was his first time handling something on his own since joining the job over half a year ago—how could he let them down and mess things up?

If it were Director Sullivan, what would he do? If it were Brother Carter, what would he do?

He couldn’t let them go over—there was danger over there. Suddenly, Charles Gray strode forward and stood on the curb: “Everyone! Everyone!”

The crowd quieted down.

Charles Gray raised his work ID: “I’m from the Blackstone Special Investigation Bureau. We specialize in handling major and serious cases. Our leaders and all elite personnel have already rushed to the scene, and I was sent to explain the situation to everyone. Although we haven’t found any news about your loved ones yet, there’s no worse news either. Our people are searching with all their might. The best way you can help us now is to cooperate with the local police, coordinate and register all relevant information, and absolutely do not approach the scene. If you do, it will only make things harder for the rescue team and hinder our search.”

He had never spoken so much in one go before. In that instant, Charles Gray truly felt he was not fighting alone.

His heart was burning, as if a fire was lit inside. He cupped his hands together and bowed to everyone in a circle: “Thank you all, and I promise you, we will do our utmost. Now, may I ask everyone to line up and come in with me to register?”

The crowd looked at each other for a moment, but actually lined up quietly. Two or three minutes later, under the guidance of the young policewoman, they entered the building in an orderly fashion once again.

It was Charles Gray himself who stood there in a daze for a moment, hardly able to believe he had just managed to do that.

However, the tasks of the others were not as easy as Charles Gray’s. Entangled by the shadow, William Sherman didn’t know why, but his stubborn streak flared up again—he refused to let go of Logan Sullivan no matter what. He gripped the back of the Soulcleaver with his teeth, the cold gleam of the blade making his already bloodless lips look even paler, and turned his head to aim the blade at the shadow binding him.

Logan Sullivan snatched the blade from his mouth: “Give it to me.”

Holding this one-of-a-kind blade, he slashed fiercely at the black mist wrapped around William Sherman’s arm, but it felt as if the blade was cutting into a sticky swamp. The black mist could only be forced back a little by the sharp edge, but it was so viscous that it couldn’t be cut through at all.

William Sherman held Logan Sullivan even tighter, glanced quickly, and said, “I get it now. That’s the Unholy Ground itself. The only thing the Soulcleaver can’t cut is that. This won’t work—you’ll have to cut off my arm, quick!”

As a mortal, Logan Sullivan couldn’t understand how these great beings could so easily talk about cutting off limbs or heads, so he ignored him, sheathed the Soulcleaver, and pulled out the Soulbound Order. With a flick of his finger, a small flame sprang up, and the Soulbound Order, carrying the spark, shot straight into the black mist…

Not even a trace was left.

William Sherman had always spoken to him gently, but now, for once, he raised his voice: “While there’s still time, cut off my arm!”

Logan Sullivan turned a deaf ear, and without hesitation, pulled out the real Soulbound Order he had specially brought, carved from sacred wood. William Sherman was shocked: “You can’t—”

But Logan Sullivan showed him what it meant to act faster than speak. Before William Sherman could finish, the sacred wood Soulbound Order burst into flames, a fire a foot high blazing up. The color of the flame was an unnatural red, and the black mist wrapped around William Sherman’s arm finally shrank back in fear.

William Sherman pulled his arm free, and the first thing he did was snatch back the half-burned Soulbound Order, grab Logan Sullivan, and dodge away from the swamp-like black mist. Then, somehow, a pool of clear spring water formed in his palm, which he used to extinguish the fire on the Soulbound Order.

The two characters “Soulbound” were half burned away, so at a glance, only “真鬼” seemed to remain.

And the line on the back, “镇生者之魂，安死者之心,” had long since vanished.

The two of them quickly left the spot. Even as they darted and dodged, William Sherman still managed to frown tightly and carefully wipe the black ash off the Soulbound Order, then turned a stern face to Logan Sullivan: “Do you realize that you’re not supposed to exist in the cycle of reincarnation? The identity of the Soulbound Order’s master is like your protective talisman. This is carved from sacred wood—at a critical moment, it could save your life. You…”

So, although most of his upright gentlemanly demeanor was just an act, this trait was real. William Sherman truly became tongue-tied when scolding someone, and in the end, had to settle for the closest substitute, blurting out, “You—you’re just so wasteful!”

Behind them, the shadow was in relentless pursuit, thick as ink that couldn’t be dissolved. This time, it wasn’t summoned by the underworld soldiers—it was the real deal. Wherever the shadow passed, nothing was left behind, not even the void itself seemed safe from being devoured. This was true chaos. The two who had always been so formidable never expected to be so desperate, running for their lives at breakneck speed.

In this race against death, Logan Sullivan, even while fleeing, still found time to roll his eyes dramatically at William Sherman: “Get out of here! Always talking about cutting off hands and digging out hearts—do you think you’re a gecko? I think you’re the wasteful one.”

William Sherman suddenly realized that he really was being influenced by Logan Sullivan—even at a time like this, he still had the mind to bicker. It was so unlike him that he immediately shut his mouth. Wrapping his arms around Logan Sullivan, the Soulwarden’s huge black robe billowed like a cloud in the air. Both his feet left the ground as he held Logan Sullivan and, in an instant, shot dozens of meters along the ground, his toes barely touching down before plunging into a crack in the earth, dodging the falling rocks caused by the fissure, moving as swiftly as a jet-black swallow.

At that moment, the ground began to tremble once again.