Chapter Forty-Seven: What Is Seeking Alms?

"This matter is not your concern, I will handle it," Li Minghao said, his gaze earnest. Hu Xiong pondered for a moment, then slowly walked forward and patted Li Minghao on the shoulder. "Be careful."

Li Minghao secretly breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Don’t worry, I—"

Suddenly, Hu Xiong pressed Li Minghao to the ground, shouting back, "Old Bai, do it!"

Hu Xiong had seen through it at once—Li Minghao was bewitched. How could he leave him alone here?

Bai Chuan, wielding a sharp dagger, darted forward, attacking Jiang Zhen’er. Despite his emaciated frame, Bai Chuan moved with remarkable agility.

As Bai Chuan struck, Jiang Zhen’er’s appearance transformed. Her hair turned silver, her skin ghostly pale, and her fingers grew long, crimson nails. A guttural howl escaped her throat.

Bang!

Bai Chuan kicked her in the abdomen. With a muffled sound, the dagger pierced her chest.

The whole process was swift. Bai Chuan and Hu Xiong worked in seamless tandem; when Hu Xiong moved to pat Li Minghao’s chest, Bai Chuan seemed already poised to strike.

In the distance, Tang Xiaoyu, hiding beneath her felt hat, watched the scuffle and quickly asked, "Should we go help them?"

"Could we even help?" Li Changqing replied, retreating a few steps.

Like an iron spike, the dagger pinned Jiang Zhen’er firmly to the yellow-horned tree.

"Aah!" Jiang Zhen’er struggled wildly, desperate to break free.

Bai Chuan placed two fingers on his brow, murmured a spell, and black light shimmered at his fingertips. He drove his fingers into Jiang Zhen’er’s forehead.

Her struggles slowed, and she looked toward Li Minghao with deep longing—she had waited for him so very long.

At last, she had seen him.

Jiang Zhen’er’s resentment gradually dissipated, and she died, leaving only white bones.

"Bai Chuan is so formidable," Li Changqing’s pupils contracted slightly. Jiang Zhen’er had no chance to resist.

"It’s done."

Bai Chuan glanced at the bones on the ground, took out a handkerchief to wipe his fingers, and retrieved the dagger.

Only then did Hu Xiong release Li Minghao, scolding, "Are you crazy? Telling us to leave—if we’d gone, you’d be dead!"

Li Minghao sat up, his gaze resigned, glancing toward where Jiang Zhen’er had died. "Old Bai, did you know? She said I resembled someone she once knew. Last night, she told me so much..."

"I’m not interested in that," Bai Chuan replied, indifferent. "It was a malevolent spirit. My job is to eliminate them. Their tales of sorrow and joy do not concern me."

Hu Xiong grinned, lit a cigarette, and took a drag. "You know, for her, death is the best release. Otherwise, it’s an endless cycle of resentment."

Bai Chuan warned gravely, "Put out that cigarette unless you’d like a trip to the hospital."

Hu Xiong quickly took a hard drag, then stubbed it out on the ground.

"Who is he?" Li Minghao composed himself, looking toward Li Changqing nearby, noticing the ghost hovering above his head.

"Hello, I’m Li Changqing," he said, adjusting his felt hat. During their earlier discussion, he could sense Tang Xiaoyu trembling atop his head...

That coward was surely afraid they would get carried away and deal with her as well.

The cleanup no longer required their involvement.

Hu Xiong and the others reported the situation upstairs; the Federal Police would handle the aftermath, investigating the remains found by the grave.

Four people and one ghost caught a ride back to Nanlin City.

Yet throughout the journey, Li Minghao remained rather somber.

The three escorted Li Changqing and Tang Xiaoyu to the detective agency downstairs.

"Hey, don’t forget my ten thousand Lang coins," Li Changqing reminded Bai Chuan as they left.

"It’ll come with your final payment," Bai Chuan replied, then stepped on the gas and drove off.

"Li Changqing, do you think we’ll become their unpaid labor force in the future?" Tang Xiaoyu asked anxiously. "If we end up working for them, we’ll never make any money."

It was a real concern, but Li Changqing was preoccupied with another matter.

If Bureau Thirty-Six discovered the oddities within him, would they treat him as a monster and eliminate him?

Perhaps it was because Tang Xiaoyu had never harmed anyone that they didn’t attack her.

He himself had never harmed anyone either—but what if one day he lost control?

He vaguely remembered that after he killed that shadow, he was on the verge of losing control, but as soon as he drew close to Tang Xiaoyu, he gradually recovered.

"Hiss..."

A faint pain arose in his chest.

"I’m going to rest in the bedroom for a bit."

He entered the bedroom, lifted his shirt, and looked down. The black line on his chest had spread, growing longer than before, like an earthworm clinging to him.

What on earth was happening?

Ding ding ding.

Li Changqing’s phone rang. He picked it up—Ding Jiashi from the Shadow Cult was calling.

"Hello, Mr. Li? The matter Chief Hu investigated—we’ve got some clues."

"Most residents on that alley have moved out; only three households remain. I sent my men to check each, and found one—a woman living alone, with a strong aura of corpse energy. The address is No. 23, Fangtong Street."

No. 23, Fangtong Street?

Li Changqing’s heart sank slightly. "I see. Thank you."

He hung up, memorizing the address but not intending to visit.

Bai Chuan had easily dispatched Jiang Zhen’er; such a powerful person had seen the black handkerchief in the abandoned factory but refused to investigate further.

He continued drawing talismans, cultivating, feeling the increasing spiritual energy within himself—it brought a reassuring sense of safety.

Just now, when he concentrated spiritual energy in his eyes, he could see evil energies.

At last, he possessed some special abilities...

Though, admittedly, they seemed rather trivial...

Night gradually fell.

"Li Changqing, a client has arrived!"

Outside, Tang Xiaoyu’s voice suddenly called.

Business?

Li Changqing quickly donned his trench coat and felt hat, straightened his clothes in the mirror, and stepped out.

Tang Xiaoyu had already ushered the guest inside.

The visitor was a monk with a handsome face and a shaved head, likely twenty-five or twenty-six years old. He wore robes and held a begging bowl.

"Amitabha, benefactor, I am a monk from Tongxin Temple, here to beg for alms."

He smiled warmly at Tang Xiaoyu. "Such beauty and grace—surely you possess the heart of a Bodhisattva."

With that, he extended the begging bowl toward Tang Xiaoyu.

Tang Xiaoyu blinked curiously at Li Changqing. "What does it mean to beg for alms?"