“What are you doing? Doing you!” Logan Sullivan sneered, “I’ve put up with you sons of bitches for long enough.”

As he spoke, he gave the judge a hard shove. “Let’s go!”

“Master, please wait!” This time, the voices of all ten people finally merged together again.

Logan Sullivan heard a loud crash behind him. He turned his head and saw that the passage beneath his feet had somehow already been closed. The once pitch-black great hall was now brightly lit, and the figures of the Ten Kings were fully exposed to everyone. Looking at them now, aside from their odd attire, their appearances were actually quite normal.

Then, mechanisms in the hall’s walls began to turn, accompanied by a cacophony of springs and gears. A stone door opened in the wall, and inside was yet another door.

The Ten Kings of Hell each descended personally from the high altar, taking out the keys they carried with them. They unlocked ten doors in succession. Behind those doors was a massive pool, shrouded in ethereal mist. For a moment, it didn’t look like the underworld at all, but rather resembled the Jade Pool of legend.

Logan Sullivan looked closely and saw that above the pool floated a gigantic… lamp, dozens of meters tall, looking exactly like the small “Soul Suppressing” oil lamp engraved on the Yellow Springs Road.

The last to open his door, King Grimcourt turned around, sighed, and said to Logan Sullivan, “To be honest, Master, this is the last of the Four Sacred Treasures, the Soulbound Lamp.”

While all of Wangchuan was being stirred up and things looked terrifying outside, deep beneath the Yellow Springs, at the great seal a thousand fathoms down, it was perfectly calm. Only faint thunder-like sounds could be heard. William Sherman heard them, but suddenly smiled.

Julian West glanced upward but didn’t pay much attention. He circled around William Sherman several times, then climbed up the ancient tree of merit. “Let me see if I can find a piece of wire on me to pick the lock.”

William Sherman said unhurriedly, “No need. Just pull out the ice spike from my chest.”

Julian West shivered. “Really? Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

William Sherman: “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

His tone was as casual as if he were chatting with the cafeteria lady while buying lunch.

Julian West wasn’t nearly as calm. His palms were sweating. “You said so yourself, Mr. Sherman. Too bad I can’t get you to sign a waiver.”

With that, he gripped the ice spike in William Sherman’s chest with both hands. Following the principle of “better a short pain than a long one,” he shouted and yanked the spike out. Julian West heard the sound of flesh tearing. William Sherman’s upper body was lifted by the spike, but his limbs were still firmly locked in place.

Julian West broke out in a cold sweat just from watching, but William Sherman didn’t make a sound.

The ice spike, over five feet long, was pulled completely out of his chest, and blood sprayed far and wide.

Julian West, his face splattered with blood, hurried to check on William Sherman.

The moment the spike left his body, William Sherman seemed to have reached the limit of his endurance. The hair on his forehead was soaked with cold sweat, and his gaze went unfocused for a moment.

Fearing he might faint again, Julian West reached out to pat his face, but remembering this was the Soulwarden, he hesitated, his hand hovering in midair. Instead, he gently tugged at William Sherman’s clothes. “Mr. Sherman? Can you hear me? Hang in there, just a little longer, I’ll get you down as soon as I can.”

Due to blood loss, William Sherman’s lips were extremely dry and cracked. In a daze, he involuntarily moved his lips and murmured, “Highspire…”

Julian West: “Hm? Highspire? What about Highspire?”

His sudden question managed to pull William Sherman back from the brink of unconsciousness. William Sherman’s eyes cleared a little, and he glanced silently at Julian West, saying nothing. Then Julian West saw the gruesome wound on his chest begin to heal, bit by bit. If not for the bloodstain on his clothes, it would be as if the wound had never existed. William Sherman said softly, “Could you please hand me that ice spike?”

Julian West quickly held up the large ice spike with both hands. William Sherman had mentioned before that it was made from frozen Wangchuan water. Maybe that was why it felt even colder than ordinary ice.

The ice in Julian West’s hands suddenly melted, turning into a mass of pitch-black, blood-tinged vapor, which William Sherman inhaled in an instant. In just that moment, the cracks on his lips healed considerably, and a bit of light returned to his eyes.

There was a series of soft clicks, and all the shackles binding William Sherman’s limbs fell away, leaving only small, blade-like cuts behind. William Sherman landed silently on the ground.

Julian West hurried down after him. “You’re okay now? So what do we do next? What about those ghost beasts and the masked guy from before?”

William Sherman smiled faintly. “Him? He’s off chasing the bit of chaos I caught… I think the Ten Kings of Hell will have a surprise for him.”

Julian West thought for a moment, then said honestly, “Amitabha, Master, I don’t get it.”

William Sherman gave him a half-smile, glanced at him, then turned and disappeared right before Julian West’s eyes.

Julian West froze, blurting out, “Crap! I lost the boss’s family! There goes my year-end bonus!”

An invisible hand landed on Julian West’s shoulder, and he heard William Sherman’s voice beside him: “Above us is the Wangchuan River. You’ll have to find a way to swim up. Once you reach the underworld, Logan Sullivan is probably there. We’ll go find him. I’ll follow you, but for now, don’t reveal my presence.”

Julian West: “Huh? Why?”

William Sherman seemed to chuckle softly. “If I show up, how can I play the part of the scapegoat?”

Julian West shivered, silently reciting a Buddhist prayer, feeling like his boss had made a mistake that would haunt him forever.

By now, it was already late at night in the human world. Carter Shaw and Charles Gray were trudging through the villa town with a flashlight, searching once again. Carter Shaw had a small whistle hanging around his neck, which emitted a series of rising and falling notes as they walked—meant to attract wandering spirits.

Carter Shaw felt that ever since he started bringing Charles Gray along, he’d practically become a pacifist. No matter what conflicts arose, they never seemed to involve him. He was out at night, doing good deeds—either blocking runaway girls at the highway exit or searching for lost souls in the dead of night.

Suddenly, the whistle around his neck rose in pitch, making a sound like a thrush’s song. Carter Shaw raised his hand to stop Charles Gray, and the two of them stood in the middle of the deserted path, listening as the whistle grew louder and more varied, its long, trailing notes like a guiding train horn.

Charles Gray widened his tear-stained eyes and saw, at the end of the path, a young man in a courier uniform, looking dazed as he followed the sound of the whistle toward them.

Charles Gray tugged gently at Carter Shaw’s sleeve and whispered, “Is that a person or…?”

Carter Shaw: “A ghost.”

Charles Gray shuddered, but the next moment, seeing the young man’s confused expression, he suddenly wasn’t afraid anymore. Instead, he felt a pang of sadness.

The young man was drawn by the whistle to stand before them. He looked at them curiously and scratched his head. “Why are you two gentlemen out so late? It’s cold—go home soon.”

Carter Shaw replied, “And you? You’re about to go home too, aren’t you?”

The young man smiled. “Yeah, the security guard already signed for the package. I don’t have to pick anything up tonight, so I can get off work early.”

Carter Shaw took a small bottle from his pocket, opened it, and held it out to the young man. “Then come in. I’ll send you home.”

The young man froze, his smile fading as if he suddenly understood something.

Charles Gray suddenly asked, “What’s your name?”

The young man slowly looked up, stared at him for a while, and said in confusion, “I… don’t remember.”

“I remember,” Charles Gray said softly. “I saw your ID card. Your name is David Ford, born in 1989. You have an older brother, right?”

“I wrote it all down.” As Charles Gray spoke, he took a notebook from his bag and opened it to show him. It contained detailed information about every missing person. “Your brother said that if you were gone, he’d take care of your parents. They’re very sad now, but they’ll be okay.”

Tears welled up in David Ford’s eyes.

Carter Shaw said nothing, waiting for Charles Gray to continue.

“Come on in. We’ll help you move on. If you keep wandering, it’ll be morning soon,” Charles Gray said. “Sunlight isn’t good for you.”

David Ford wiped his tears. “So I’m dead, right?”

Charles Gray hesitated, then nodded.

David Ford: “How did I die? Was I murdered? If the bad guys are caught, can you avenge us?”