He finished speaking, picked up an empty soul bottle, and walked out. But perhaps it was because Corpse King was naturally ominous and looked rather fierce—even before he got close, the girl suddenly screamed in terror as if she had been greatly frightened: “Don’t come any closer! Stay away from me!”

The guardrail rattled and creaked in the wind and rain as she shook it, and she looked like she was about to fall off at any moment.

Carter Shaw had no choice but to stop—he didn’t know what the girl had seen before she died, but it certainly wasn’t a pleasant memory, for even as a ghost she was as skittish as a startled bird.

Carter Shaw turned back and gave Charles Gray a look. Charles Gray carefully made his way across the suspension bridge. The bridge, slick from the rain, was only wide enough for one person at a time. Though neither of them was fat, Carter Shaw could still feel the bridge trembling and swaying under Charles Gray’s steps.

Charles Gray squeezed past Carter Shaw, who was already more than halfway off the bridge, took the small bottle from his hand, and cautiously approached the girl suspended in midair. Wiping the rain from his face, he spoke as gently as possible: “Miss, don’t be afraid. We’re police officers. Come down to me, let us take you home, all right?”

Charles Gray spent quite a while softly coaxing the terrified girl in the wind and rain, getting soaked from head to toe. At last, the girl let down her guard a little, finally accepting the fact that she was dead. She glanced at the bottle in Charles Gray’s hand and carefully climbed down a bit.

Just then, a sudden roar came from the other end of the bridge. The girl immediately screamed again, clutching the cold iron railing. Charles Gray’s hair stood on end. From a distance, Carter Shaw gestured for him to stay calm, mimed drawing a bow with his fingers, and a small bow formed from rainwater appeared in midair. Carter Shaw slowly pinched a talisman for exorcising evil and summoning lightning between his fingers, rolled it into the shape of an arrow, set it to the bowstring, and took aim.

His arrow was nocked and ready to fire, but just as he was about to release it, the bridge suddenly shook unnaturally. Carter Shaw paused, and then saw Charles Gray staring at something behind him in panic. A wave of indescribable, corpse-like stench wafted over on the wind from the underworld.

Cold sweat finally broke out on Corpse King.

Meanwhile, in the underworld, Spirit Mask suddenly self-destructed. William Sherman’s expression at that moment was one of genuine shock. He immediately pulled Logan Sullivan into his arms and shouted, “Get down!”

Logan Sullivan felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if stabbed by a needle, and his limbs went numb for a moment.

Then came a tremendous boom. The waters of the River of Forgetfulness surged hundreds of meters high, forming a towering wall. After a brief pause, it crashed down like a tsunami, creating a massive whirlpool. Those who reacted quickly flew up to the high-hanging Hall of the Underrealm King, while the rest were swept into the pitch-black waters, their roars echoing one after another.

In just a few moments, the entire Yellow Springs Road, the Bridge of Helplessness, and even Hall of the Underrealm King all began to collapse and fall apart.

William Sherman and the other two retreated rapidly. Only Logan Sullivan paused, clutching his chest, and hesitantly said, “Holly Harlow…”

William Sherman pushed him out: “Don’t worry, she won’t die. I gave her a branch from the sacred tree.”

The three of them withdrew all the way out of Ghost City, making their way to the ancient locust tree on Dragon City Antique Street, which connected the worlds of the living and the dead. Suddenly, there was a “meow!” and a black shadow leapt straight into Logan Sullivan’s arms.

Logan Sullivan: “Fatty, what are you doing here?”

Darrin Grant: “I’ve been looking all over the world for you! You heartless scoundrel! I nearly turned the underworld upside down. What happened just now? Was there a gas explosion somewhere? Meow, that scared the life out of this cat!”

Before Logan Sullivan could reply, William Sherman raised his hand and scooped up both man and cat, tossing them up onto the locust tree: “This isn’t the time for a reunion—get up there, now!”

The last two words were shouted at Julian West, who hurried to follow.

William Sherman stayed behind to cover the retreat, forming ancient and complex seals with both hands. He cast three seals in succession, and the black shadow chasing them seemed to hit an invisible wall, unable to move forward. William Sherman staggered back several steps as if drained, leaning heavily against the locust tree, gasping for breath, cold sweat soaking his temples.

Someone called down to him: “William Sherman!”

Only then did William Sherman manage to turn around and climb up.

The black shadow below, blocked, was like a raging river stopped by sand, constantly battering the invisible seal, each impact resounding like thunder.

As soon as William Sherman poked his head up, Logan Sullivan grabbed his hand and practically hauled him up.

William Sherman leaned weakly against him for a moment, finally catching his breath. When he opened his eyes, he saw that it was quite lively under the locust tree. Besides Darrin Grant, the Special Investigation Office’s Zach Warren, Zane Shaw, and a whole group of night shift staff had arrived, including Old Wu from the night shift and Old Li from the day shift at the reception desk.

Old Li was still holding a big beef bone, apparently using it as a weapon.

Even the old man who watched over the locust tree had come out of his little shop, standing on the threshold and watching them from afar.

Suddenly, the screech of brakes sounded. Logan Sullivan’s father drove straight onto the pedestrian street, parked at the narrow roadside, and got out—but no, this wasn’t his mortal father. Perhaps he should be called Embergrower’s Cauldron.

The first thing Embergrower’s Cauldron said upon appearing caused an uproar. He asked, “Has the Great Seal been completely broken?”

Chapter 105 Soulbound Lamp …

Logan Sullivan’s hand, which had been supporting William Sherman, suddenly tightened.

Under everyone’s gaze—some confused, some tense, some unreadable—William Sherman finally nodded.

“Wraith King used himself as a medium to release the chaos. I used three old seals of the Houtu Great Seal to keep it underground,” William Sherman said. “Also, the villa town was split open by the Soulcleaver, so there might be some leakage now, but it shouldn’t be too serious.”

“Nuwa has dissipated for thousands of years. The old seals of the Houtu Great Seal are limited in power. How long can you hold it?”

William Sherman: “No more than half a day.”

A deathly silence fell over the crowd. Zach Warren asked softly, “What exactly is the Houtu Great Seal?”

Zane Shaw gently pulled her back, putting a finger to his lips to signal her not to speak further—although Zane Shaw could only understand seventy or eighty percent of their conversation, he had accompanied Logan Sullivan in investigating ancient secrets and had picked up bits and pieces, so he had already guessed most of it.

Embergrower’s Cauldron stared intently at William Sherman, pressing him: “So, Immortal, what exactly do you plan to do?”

William Sherman met his gaze calmly, reversed his grip to hold Logan Sullivan’s hand, and said in a steady voice, “I’ll do as I promised back then.”

His calm and open attitude stunned Embergrower’s Cauldron for a moment. After a while, his gaze fell on the two hands clasped together, his expression shifting several times, but in the end he said nothing, stiffly looking away and speaking a little awkwardly: “What can I do to help you?”

William Sherman swept his gaze over everyone present, both living and dead, and spoke unhurriedly: “Back then, Warden of Highspire used the Four Saints to seal the Four Pillars. When the Great Seal loosens, the Four Saints emerge to face calamity and return to the world. Now, all of them are in my hands. I need to reseal the Four Pillars that support heaven and earth, and I hope you all can help me hold the formation.”

As William Sherman spoke, a giant Eight Trigrams disk suddenly appeared above Antique Street, square and upright, with the four symbols—Lesser Yin, Sun, Lesser Yang, and Greater Yin—standing at the corners, pointing to the southeast, northwest, and northeast.

Then the long, slender Terra-Spike leapt from William Sherman’s palm, stretching tall and long, vaguely resembling the sheer cliffs of the great snowy mountains, and landed at the Black Tortoise position. A great sundial disk separated from the Terra-Spike, rumbling as it spun to the White Tiger position. The Virtue Quill, carved from the sacred tree, pointed skyward and landed at the Azure Dragon position. Finally, the wickless Soulbound Lamp, still dim and unlit, followed William Sherman’s guidance to the Vermilion Bird position.

Logan Sullivan: “Hey, wait, isn’t the Soulbound Lamp in the Hall of the Underrealm King?”

William Sherman: “I took a moment earlier to bring it over. The one in the Hall of the Underrealm King is just a decoy.”

After saying this, he seemed a little embarrassed by his own sleight of hand, lowering his head slightly: “Extraordinary times call for unorthodox methods. I’m ashamed.”

Logan Sullivan: “…”

William Sherman took Logan Sullivan’s hand and said softly, “It’ll hurt a bit.”

As soon as he finished, Logan Sullivan felt a prick at his fingertip, and a round bead of blood welled up, flying straight into the Soulbound Lamp and drawing out a fine thread.