George Miller suddenly caught a scent—pleasant, yet hard to describe.

He thought for a long time, and suddenly remembered the old house he lived in as a child. Charles Sullivan had planted many white plum trees nearby, no one knew where the seeds came from, but it seemed like overnight they had become a grove.

Sometimes he would sneak in and run around; when rain fell on the white plum grove, it seemed to have this very scent.

Right after, he realized that this scent was coming from William Clark.

But once William Clark finished absorbing all the black mist, the scent disappeared. His complexion looked much better than before; though his skin was still extremely pale and his eyes pitch black, he seemed a bit more alive.

The process was actually a little frightening, like a demon wearing a painted human skin.

For a few seconds, George Miller didn’t dare speak to him, nor even look at him. It wasn’t until a sudden gust of wind swept through the room, making him shiver, that he snapped back to himself.

“Uh, uh, Mr. Clark.”

“Speak.” William Clark pulled out a tissue, wiped his perfectly clean fingers, and tossed the empty thermos back onto the coffee table.

With nothing else to say, George Miller asked, “You said those Hui Gu were raised by someone to steal things—so why did they come to our house?”

We’re already dirt poor...

“They probably had their eyes on something. Who knows.” William Clark replied.

“And the other two... we’re just letting them go?”

William Clark said, “I left something to follow them.”

Those three Hui Gu carried traces of his spiritual presence—how could he not track them? At the very least, he needed to know who raised them and where they came from.

After all the commotion, both of them were exhausted, and before long, they fell asleep leaning on the sofa.

This time of year, dawn comes a bit earlier than in the dead of winter.

When he was “alive,” William Clark always slept lightly, waking at the faintest sound of birds.

Sleeping on the sofa wasn’t very comfortable. He stood up, stretched his neck, and turned to see the living room clock—just before 5 o’clock.

Suddenly, there was a fluttering sound by the window. He walked over and caught a bird folded from yellow joss paper.

The paper carried the scent of incense ash from the The Sullivan Family; it was what he’d sent out last night to follow the Hui Gu.

He cupped his hands around the paper bird, found a lighter, and lit a red candle. Holding the paper bird, he passed it back and forth over the flame.

When George Miller sat up, his hair a mess, this was the scene he saw.

After a night’s rest, his eyes had completely returned to normal; everything looked alive again, none of last night’s deathly aura remained, and his mood improved greatly.

He turned on the main light, yawned, and asked William Clark what he was burning.

William Clark didn’t answer, because a place name was appearing on the paper bird, gently smoked by the incense candle.

Xiping Garden.

What kind of place was that?

William Clark was frowning, but George Miller suddenly spoke in surprise: “Xiping Garden?”

“You know it?”

“Uh... not really.” George Miller said, “I just heard my grandpa mention it—a traditional doll shop. Mainly, there’s some history behind it.”

“What kind of history?”

“Isn’t there a Zhang family on that Judge’s genealogy chart? Supposedly a big clan, with lots of branches.”

William Clark said, “I know.”

The earliest ancestor of the Zhang family was just a minor disciple of the founder, not very capable. But over time, they became the most prestigious family, thanks to taking in many disciples and having a large, thriving lineage.

“There’s a lot of gossip about them. I’ve heard my grandpa mention that in one of the Zhang family’s side branches, this generation produced a real troublemaker—cursed fate, harmed his parents and a lot of others. I don’t know if it’s true, sounds pretty far-fetched.” George Miller stammered as he recalled, “Anyway, no one in the Zhang family dared to take him in, and the other families kept their distance.”

“And then?”

“And then... this Xiping Garden is his shop.” George Miller asked, “Why did the paper say Xiping Garden?”

William Clark said, “That’s where chasing the dogs led last night.”

George Miller’s eyes widened: “So those three disgusting things came from him?”

William Clark didn’t confirm, only said, “It’s possible.”

He pondered for a moment, then walked over to the genealogy chart. Almost everyone he knew on it had already passed away; those still alive were strangers to him.

“Which one are you talking about?” He started searching the chart.

George Miller mumbled as he came over, “I don’t know, this chart is a mess, I hardly look at it. I just remember Grandpa said he was still alive, but his name was crossed out.”

Following the branches of the Zhang family, William Clark finally found a crossed-out name in one of the side lines. The moment they saw the name, both he and George Miller were stunned.

Because the name was: Henry Baker.

The atmosphere in the living room instantly became heavy. After a long pause, George Miller blurted out, “No way! Which Xie, which Wen?”

As he spoke, his phone buzzed twice.

George Miller swallowed, pulled out his phone, and saw a new message.

Sender: Henry Baker.

Message: Building 5, right? I’m outside.

“He’s here...” George Miller said softly, “Right outside.”

William Clark turned his head almost immediately.

Through the floor-to-ceiling glass door, he saw someone standing in the garden path outside.