Chapter 82.4

The two immediately obeyed and shut their eyes.

Li Zhuiyuan also descended with his eyes closed. He remembered the layout well, so he walked steadily and came to a stop before the book.

There was no wind, yet he heard the sound of pages turning.

Li Zhuiyuan loved books, but this was the first time one had flirted with him of its own accord.

Too bad—it was casting coquettish glances at a blind man.

He pulled out a piece of canvas. Inside were purple wooden shavings, each one scraped by Ah Li herself from their ancestral tablets.

Then carved by Ah Li, sealed within the cloth.

It wasn’t as handy as the Demon-Suppressing Whip in actual combat, but without question, this canvas was the most lethal weapon he owned against malevolent spirits.

Li Zhuiyuan draped the canvas over the book.

“Zzzzzz…”

In an instant, it was like pouring water into boiling oil. Acrid smoke filled his nose with the stench of burning.

“Sigh…”

Li Zhuiyuan sighed. Who knew when he’d see Ah Li again? If this was ruined, there’d be no repairing it.

But then he realized his thinking was wrong. Ah Li wasn’t some tool.

So he quickly corrected himself mentally:

Ah Li wasn’t here—but this was her keepsake, left in his care. If it was damaged, how could he use it to remember her?

That thought felt far more fitting.

Li Zhuiyuan relished the feeling. Only when it involved Ah Li did his inner thoughts stir beyond cold calculations of cost and motive.

The sizzling slowly subsided. Whether the canvas had burned through or finally subdued the book, he couldn’t tell.

Li Zhuiyuan bent down, reaching carefully along the edges.

Close call—it hadn’t burned through, but the canvas had thinned to near nothing. Most of the purple shavings inside had charred black.

Luckily, the book had indeed been suppressed.

He took out his purple Demon-Suppressing Whip, wrapped the book tightly in the canvas, then tied it with the whip into a dead knot.

Only then did Li Zhuiyuan open his eyes, staring at the bundle swathed in leather and cloth.

Can’t let Granny Liu see this. She must never find out that the ancestors of the Qin and Liu clans were used to bind a cursed book.

Even so, he still felt it wasn’t fully secure. This wasn’t like the coin from before—passive, inert. This book had a will of its own. When he called for it earlier, it had willingly "surrendered."

Burying it wouldn’t do. What if it clawed its way back out and came looking for revenge?

Better to bring it back to the dorm—keep watch himself.

He took out a talisman he’d drawn and stuck it on. The talisman didn’t change color—stable.

“Binbin-ge, got any more talismans?”

“Yeah, my whole bag’s full of them.”

“You can open your eyes now,” Li Zhuiyuan said, tossing the bundle to Tan Wenbin. “Cover it completely.”

“Got it!”

In just that short time, Zhao Junfeng’s body had melted into pus. And the raging fire at the General’s Temple would surely reduce everything to ash.

Saved them a lot of cleanup.

So long as it remained a missing-persons case or arson, someone like Yu Shu wouldn’t get involved.

Li Zhuiyuan wasn’t eager to deal with those people. Too likely he’d run into Li Lan.

He had his own path to walk. Like now—with his team, his trusted comrades. Well, except the one he trusted most was out sick today.

“Pack it up. We’re heading back to school.”

Jun Mountain was remote, with no taxis at night. For safety, they’d hiked a good distance from the scene before flagging down a private car and paying the driver to take them to campus.

It was still dark when they arrived. To avoid being remembered by the gate guards, they scaled the wall instead of using the main entrance.

As they walked the cool, tree-lined paths, Tan Wenbin joked, “Man, tonight’s fare cost a fortune. If you’re broke, guess you can’t afford to exorcise demons or uphold justice.”

Yin Meng said, “Once the school term starts, we’ll make money from the store. If we save enough, we can buy our own delivery van. That’ll make everything easier. Prices in Jinling really are insane.”

Tan Wenbin: “See? Our little Nantong’s way better.”

Yin Meng: “Same prices, worse pay.”

Tan Wenbin coughed twice, changing the subject. “Hey, Xiaoyuan-ge, did we really have to be this sneaky? Climbing walls and all? Even if the school notices Wu Xinhui and the others missing, they won’t suspect us.”

“It’s five people.”

“Uh… right. Five.”

One store clerk. One dorm matron.

“Normally they wouldn’t trace it to us. But what if we run into a cop like your dad?”

He remembered that afternoon outside Mei-jie’s Video Hall in Shinan Town. Tan Yunlong had stepped out of the car, scanned the area, and walked straight toward him.

That moment stayed sharp in Li Zhuiyuan’s memory.

“Ahaha, next time I call my dad, I’ll tell him you said that. He’ll be tickled pink.”

Yin Meng chuckled. “You two really have a great bond.”

Tan Wenbin said, “By the way, since Wu Xinhui didn’t kill Qiu Minmin, who did?”

Yin Meng: “Could it have been Zhao Junfeng?”

Tan Wenbin shook his head. “No way. In his memory, he kept yelling he was innocent, said he didn’t kill anyone.”

Yin Meng: “But did you see his memory at the actual moment of the crime?”

“No.”

“I’ve heard even death-row inmates still claim innocence at the firing squad.”

Tan Wenbin blinked. “Whoa, you think it really was Zhao Junfeng? Yeah, if he wasn’t the killer, why’d he run? When Mao Zhushan pulled him from the water, of course he’d say he was framed.”

Li Zhuiyuan spoke. “What’s your profession?”

“In corpse retrieval!” the two answered in unison.

“What’s the most basic condition for a Dead Sinker to form?”

“Resentment,” Yin Meng replied.

Tan Wenbin smacked his forehead. “So Zhao Junfeng was wronged. He died unjustly.”

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. “There are exceptions. But those five who vanished were all tied to that case seven years ago. The police will reopen the investigation. If the real killer is still at large, they’ll feel the pressure.

For all we know… the killer might be on this very campus.”

Yin Meng first returned to the store to drop off supplies and feed the dog, then went to check on Runsheng at the infirmary.

Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin went back to their dorm. Passing Lu Yi’s room, they saw the door ajar. Given the past possession incident, Tan Wenbin peeked inside—then emerged, a red sausage dangling from his mouth.

“He’s not in.”

Back in their room, Tan Wenbin cleaned the gear while Li Zhuiyuan took a washbasin to shower.

Just as he finished, he heard the shuffle of slippers. Lu Yi appeared, face mixed with worry and joy.

“Prodigy-ge, why’re you showering now?”

“Too hot to sleep.”

“Prodigy-ge, I just got up to pee. Guess what I saw when I came back? That red sausage on my altar—it’s gone! Gone!”

“Oh.”

“Prodigy-ge, is that good or bad?”

“Good. The offering worked.”

“Really? That’s great. Sigh… poor thing. I think that ghost must’ve been from my hometown too.”

“Maybe.”

“Next time I’ll offer two sausages. Even ghosts from back home shouldn’t go hungry.”

Li Zhuiyuan carried the basin back. Tan Wenbin was on the floor, still wiping down the umbrella. The sausage was half eaten.

“I’m turning in, bro.”

“Yeah. Go ahead, bro.”

Li Zhuiyuan lay down, closed his eyes, and fell asleep quickly.

But just after dawn, he woke again. On the neighboring bed, Tan Wenbin was fast asleep, hugging his pillow.

Li Zhuiyuan sat up. Unless he’d been seriously drained, his body clock was usually precise.

Still, he felt that rhythm wouldn’t hold much longer—not without that thrice-daily angel’s call.

And right on cue, from outside the dorm window came that very call:

“Xiaoyuan, breakfast time!”

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