The shadowy figure said nothing, just staring at him. At that moment, Huang Ran, who had been silent all this time, suddenly spoke up: "Hold on—so you're using the Heavenly Principle Diagram as bait? You had this all planned out, didn't you? Sorry, but this is an internal affair of the Bureau. Our Commission has no part in it." As he spoke, he took a few steps back to one side, deliberately leaving a gap behind him.
Just as he retreated, the figure suddenly spun around and darted backward. With Huang Ran no longer pressuring him, he was clearly making a last-ditch attempt to escape through the rear. Sun Fatty had already raised his crossbow, but the figure moved too fast—he couldn't find an opening to fire. By the time he shoved the weapon into my hands, the situation had already changed again.
As the shadow made his move, Yang Xiao did the same: with a flick of his right hand, a copper spike flashed toward the figure's thigh. With a crisp thunk, it struck dead-on. The figure had no time to react—his body buckled, and he collapsed to the floor. In terms of skill, he and Yang Xiao weren't even in the same league. Last time, he had only gained the upper hand by ambushing Yang Xiao while his wife was reincarnating, plus some unintentional help from Underworld Envoys. Yang Xiao had been distracted, which nearly cost him his life.
That incident still weighed heavily on Yang Xiao. Aside from Wu Rendi and his uncle Lin Huo, he had never been so thoroughly humiliated. Had Director Gao not ordered otherwise in advance, he wouldn't have bothered with talk just now—he would've torn this man apart on the spot.
Now, watching the man collapse, Yang Xiao let out a cold chuckle. His face once again bore the same expression as when I first saw him atop the fifteenth floor of the Qilin Building. He slowly walked toward the figure, speaking as he approached: "If you don't behave, I won't mind driving one of these spikes into each of your limbs."
The figure lay prone, seemingly resigned to his fate. As Yang Xiao closed the last few steps, he suddenly halted, smirked coldly, and flicked another copper spike directly into the man's right hand, pinning it to the wooden floor. The jolt of pain finally forced a muffled groan from him, and his body began to tremble.
At the same time, a tiny pill fell from his wounded palm. The moment it touched the air, it burst into flames with a whoosh, dripping glowing liquid like molten steel. Within seconds, the burning pill scorched a neat hole through the wooden floor.
Yang Xiao glanced at the scorched spot and said, "That's interest. You've got any other tricks, go ahead and use them—each one earns you a spike, a nice souvenir. I actually hope you have more. As long as you're still breathing when I deliver you to the Bureau, my task is complete." He paused, then sneered and added, "By the way, I don't actually agree with the idea that keeping you alive has any value. You know where I come from—when it comes to making a soul talk, I've got no shortage of methods."
Just as Yang Xiao finished speaking, Huang Ran, who had been silently observing with cold detachment, suddenly said, "I'm giving up on the Heavenly Principle Diagram. Since this is a Bureau matter, the Commission has no standing to interfere. If it's alright with you…" He pointed toward the church entrance and continued, "How about you dispel the formation at the door and leave this to your people? I'll return to Taiwan."
"Come on, Old Huang, you're leaving just like that?" Sun Fatty grinned. Before he could finish his thought, Yang Xiao cut in coldly, "Stay where you are. I have a few questions for you later." With that, he turned his attention back to the figure on the ground. "Alright, show me your face. Let's see which old friend you really are. Don't make me do it myself."
The figure was lying face-down in my direction. I had a vague sense something was off about him, though I couldn't quite place it. He remained motionless, but the mist around his body was starting to fade, and his facial features were slowly coming into view.
Just then, the ground beneath our feet began to tremble violently, like an earthquake. A strange, eerie wail followed—like a tormented ghost crying out. The sound sent a chill straight through me, making my skin crawl. From beneath the church, a wave of cold, sinister energy surged upward.
We were still frozen in shock when the figure on the ground suddenly sank into the floor. The spot where he had been left behind a perfectly-shaped human-shaped hole. Seeing the prey about to slip away, Yang Xiao prepared to dive in after him. But at that moment, something flashed upward from the hole—a gleaming object. Yang Xiao paused, reached out, and caught it—it was one of the copper spikes he had driven into the man earlier.
Everything below fell deathly silent. That moment of quiet gave Yang Xiao pause, and he hesitated briefly before jumping down—but it already seemed too late.
Seeing the figure escape, Sun Fatty yelled at Li Qimu nearby, "What's down there?!" Li Qimu had been paralyzed by fear. After a moment's hesitation, he replied, "The basement…" Then something struck him. His eyes widened as he added, "It leads to the church's back door—!"
Sun Fatty glared at Li Qimu. "There's a back door? And you didn't say so earlier?" He shot me a glance. "Come on, we're going out the window after him!" But just as he finished speaking, Huang Ran said from not far away, "Forget him. We've got bigger problems." His eyes were fixed on the crucified statue of Jesus atop the chapel, and he continued, "Of all times to appear… it had to be now."
I followed Huang Ran's gaze and saw a gray, semi-transparent "person" peering down at us from the statue. Huang Ran slowly moved toward us. I lowered my voice and asked, "A spirit entity?" His expression stiffened as he snorted, "Who else? We couldn't drive it off. Don't let your guard down—this thing's no ordinary vengeful ghost."
Right then, Meng Qiqi's voice rang out from outside the door: "What's going on in there? Fatty Sun, Huang Ran, you two still alive? And that wooden-faced Shen guy—if none of you make a sound soon, I'm coming in!"
Just before I could stop her, Sun Fatty shouted back, "Don't come in! I'm telling you, there's a formation set up at the door—Yang Xiao's doing. This isn't a joke. Miss Meng, better stand guard out there and make sure no hothead charges in."
While Sun Fatty was speaking, Huang Ran remained silent, his eyes fixed on the spirit on the ceiling. The entity seemed wary of the bronze sword in Huang Ran's hand. Though the chill in the air was intensifying, it just stared unblinking at him, unwilling to come down.
Sun Fatty tried shifting positions several times, but the spirit didn't even spare him a glance—as if only Huang Ran existed in the room and the rest of us were invisible. Sensing something, Sun Fatty turned to Huang Ran and said, "Not to be rude, Old Huang, but it's got a thing for you. Like it's here just for you. Maybe you two should hash it out privately—us Bureau folks will just stay out of it."
Clearly, Sun Fatty was still holding a grudge from earlier when Huang Ran had backed off and exposed him. Huang Ran's eye twitched, but he didn't say a word—his gaze locked on the spirit. He said in a low voice, "If I go down, none of you are getting out either. This spirit will eliminate all perceived threats to the relic in order of priority. Director Sun, even if you're lower on the list…"
Before he could finish, Huang Ran suddenly slashed his sword at the spirit on the ceiling. The moment the blade moved, a brilliant red light burst from it, followed by a wisp of black smoke rising from the air in front of him. The spirit flinched, then leapt forward like lightning, lunging straight for Huang Ran's head.
Huang Ran swung the sword like a blade, aiming directly at the spirit—but just as it was about to collide with the edge, it dissipated into a cloud of black mist and vanished before our eyes.
Huang Ran's expression changed. Sword still gripped tight, he looked around but saw no target. I, however, could see the black mist reforming behind him. It gathered into a vague humanoid shape, though now much fainter—so faint that even Huang Ran didn't notice, nor did Sun Fatty, who was still scanning with his crossbow.
The mist behind Huang Ran gradually coalesced into the same spirit as before, but now fully transparent. For some reason, I seemed to be the only one who could see it. The spirit stood motionless behind him, eyes locked coldly on his back.
"It's masking itself with Arcanobeast Aura—we can't see it! Get to the wall, now!" Huang Ran shouted.
The spirit didn't attack; it just stared at him. Sun Fatty whispered in my ear, "Let him stall it. Once Yang Xiao comes back, we've got nothing to worry about." But Huang Ran had just saved my life earlier—I couldn't pretend I owed him nothing. Without a word, I snatched the crossbow from Sun Fatty and fired a bolt at the spirit.
The moment the bolt flew, a piercing shriek echoed through the chapel. The spirit turned to mist again, vanished, then reappeared three or four meters behind Huang Ran—but this time, its target had shifted to me.
The spirit's cold gaze sent a chill down my spine—I couldn't help but shiver. As it turned toward me, I yelled to Sun Fatty, "Dasheng! Give me all your bolts!"
Huang Ran, noticing my line of sight, turned and asked, "You can see it?" I didn't have time to answer. Taking the bolts from Sun Fatty, I quickly reloaded and fired another shot. The spirit, now wary, transformed into smoke the moment I loosed the bolt, which harmlessly struck the chapel window frame.
Seeing me reload again, Sun Fatty couldn't hold back. "Lazi, did you even hit it? You're wasting precious ammo—aim better next time!" Scolded, I raised the crossbow and tracked the newly reformed spirit carefully, unwilling to waste another shot. Luckily, it seemed wary of me now and didn't approach again, only circling from a distance.
Just then, Huang Ran ran over and stood behind me. Eyeing the direction I was aiming, he said, "It's no good. That thing's in incorporeal form. Even if you hit it, it won't do fatal damage." He opened his backpack, dumped everything out, and rummaged through charms and bronze coins before pulling out a small porcelain vial.
Uncorking it, Huang Ran pressed it against the wound at the back of my neck while I was distracted. He squeezed hard—pain flared as the scab burst open and blood began to flow again.
"Ah! Damn it, Huang! If you need blood, cut your own damn finger—what the hell is this!?"