There aren’t many residents in this neighborhood, but there are plenty of trees. Shadows flickered everywhere, as if something was lurking in every corner. Passing by a half-dead tree, William Clark casually snapped off a dry branch about the length of his palm.

His ten fingers moved swiftly, and in a few deft motions, those yellow talisman papers were folded into different shapes. He strung them onto the dry branch, and in an instant, it became a simple paper beast.

The two white hemp strings were wound a few times around the end and fork of the branch, with the other end wrapped around William Clark’s finger.

“What the hell is that?!”

George Miller’s eyes hadn’t returned to normal yet. In his current vision, as soon as the paper beast landed, it became alive! Chains rusted with corrosion wrapped around its body, a streak of blood on its forehead, and its pupils were completely white.

William Clark lifted the finger wrapped with hemp string, and the paper beast stamped its front hoof and snorted. He said, “Origami.”

George Miller: “…Am I blind?”

“Aren’t you?” William Clark only then realized he’d briefly opened his eyes for him. “Oh. That’s puppet arts. Charles Sullivan can do it too.”

All the disciples he’d taught could do it, and of course, he himself had a master—among all, the founder was the most skilled in puppet arts.

William Clark gave the hemp string a tug and a flick. The paper beast charged out, chains clashing and sparking as they struck!

In an instant, a fierce wind swept through!

Sparks flew toward George Miller, and he felt a burning pain in his eyes. He cried out, bent over clutching his face, and tears streamed down. He thought, with all this commotion, isn’t security going to come over?!

But when the pain passed, he looked up into the scorching wind, only to find the shadows of the trees in the neighborhood were perfectly still in the howling gale.

In the distance, a beast’s howl faintly echoed, a stark contrast to the pitch-black, deathly silent neighborhood.

William Clark gave a sharp tug with his left hand, and the crisscrossed white hemp string suddenly went taut. The beast’s howl drew closer, as if being dragged back, and in the blink of an eye, it landed right in front of them.

It snorted, tossing what was in its mouth onto the ground.

A heavy stench of blood spread out. The black shadow on the ground twitched once, then went completely still.

George Miller looked closely—it was one of those three monsters.

Its human face looked like a plant withering in an instant, drooping limply to the ground, waxy white, its skin lifeless like cotton. It was inexplicably creepy.

George Miller stumbled back several steps before catching his breath. “Is… is it dead?”

William Clark grunted in response.

“Mr. Clark, you’re amazing!” George Miller suddenly felt emboldened. “Then why didn’t you just kill it at home? Why chase it out here?”

William Clark didn’t buy his flattery at all and said bluntly, “If all three came at once, the one lying here might be you.”

George Miller deflated again.

“And besides…” William Clark pulled the string off his knuckles, “I was hungry, couldn’t last more than a few minutes.”

The moment the string was dropped, a bright flame suddenly ignited under the paper beast’s feet. In the blink of an eye, only paper ash and a charred branch remained.

William Clark squatted in front of the dead monster and sniffed carefully.

George Miller, not understanding, leaned in as well. The black mist still swirled around the monster’s body. He didn’t dare touch it, so he just hovered nearby, sniffing.

“What are you smelling for?” he asked, puzzled.

“The scent of a spiritual aspect,” William Clark replied.

“Whose?”

“Mine.”

George Miller looked shocked. “Didn’t you lose your spiritual aspect?”

As soon as he said it, he understood. No wonder William Clark had suddenly chased after it—this monster carried traces of William Clark’s spiritual aspect.

“What exactly is this thing? Why does it have your spiritual aspect’s scent?”

“Hui Gu,” William Clark said. “Something that crawls out of the earth. Some people keep them.”

George Miller: “Are they crazy? Why keep this?”

William Clark: “To steal things.”

If they couldn’t do it themselves, they’d send these filthy things to rummage around. They were born with the appearance of evil spirits, and loved to feed on spiritual aspects and spiritual objects, including the fortune and blessings of ordinary people.

William Clark sniffed around, but couldn’t find that familiar scent again. It was as if it had only flashed by, leaving no trace.

Though he’d expected this, he still irritably kicked the thing, then asked George Miller, “Do you have a bottle at home?”

“What kind of bottle?”

“Anything, as long as it can hold something.”

George Miller wanted to say he didn’t dare go alone. But seeing William Clark’s annoyed face, he obediently went home by himself.

He dashed back as fast as he could, grabbed a thermos, and rushed back just as quickly. He saw William Clark pressing his finger to Hui Gu’s neck, and the swirling black mist instantly began to flow.

He took the thermos, tapped the rim twice with his fingertip, and the black mist poured in like water, filling it in the blink of an eye.

“What are you going to do with this?” George Miller held the full thermos as if it were a time bomb.

William Clark’s thin lips moved, and he spat out a single word: “Eat.”

George Miller nearly lost his mind on the spot.

You can eat this thing?

But William Clark really did have him carry this “bomb” back home.

“You’re really going to eat that?” George Miller watched as William Clark sat down on the sofa and unscrewed the thermos, unable to help asking.

“Yeah.” William Clark seemed used to it. He dabbed a bit of incense ash from the censer, then stuck his finger into the black mist. The whole cupful of black mist was slowly absorbed into his body.