The plane touched down slowly at Haven City's airport. I clutched my mouth, staggering as I got off.
As soon as I left the airport, I saw my parents waiting for me. My mother rushed over and supported me as I dry-heaved, my stomach completely empty.
Last night, we drove straight back to the Golden Temple, returned the car to the Underworld Agent, and explained the situation. But inside the Golden Temple, after hearing our story, they were powerless to help. That same night, I boarded a flight back to Haven City. The plane landed early this morning, and I was already suffering from airsickness. Days of relentless travel had left my body in ruins.
Returning to Haven City was an act of desperation. The only one who might be able to get John Chou and Isabelle Frost out of that underground palace was Basil Bertram. After hearing from the Blue Wraiths, they hoped I would quietly consult Basil Bertram, without mentioning it was their idea.
Seeing how urgent things were, I took the evening flight back without hesitation.
"Daughter, you've gotten darker."
My mother didn’t rush me into the car. Instead, she took me to a nearby drink shop, ordered a pot of hot tea, and let me rest until I felt better. She said I should take a few days to recover before heading home.
"Of course I’m darker. It’s all because of John Chou—that guy is just too much."
I muttered a complaint, but I didn’t have the energy to be angry. There was nothing I could have done in that situation. John Chou’s motives probably went beyond just seizing Tammy Blade’s consciousness; there was also that vast horde of ghosts beneath the underground palace.
We rushed in recklessly and got trapped inside. Thinking back, that surging power—enough to burn even John Chou’s ghostly body to ashes—was sealed within the maze. The ghosts imprisoned there must still be incredibly strong.
No wonder John Chou was so determined to go in. Now look—he and his sister are both trapped inside. I thought he was up to his usual tricks, but when I escaped the underground palace and returned to the world of the living, I saw the Blue Wraiths approach me. That’s when I realized this was no joke; things were truly dire.
The lamas, meanwhile, had me trade the secret Heart Mantra of the 21 Tara Manifestation, hoping it might help them come up with a solution. But they knew nothing about what goes on in Sky Burial Valley—clearly, that place is top secret.
Still, Tunjiu shared the secret Heart Mantra of the 21 Tara Manifestation with the three Living Buddhas, since it belonged to their sect. After I gave a brief account of what happened, my mother looked at me, her face clouded with worry.
"Roxie, maybe when this is all over, you shouldn’t get involved anymore. Go back to the Underworld for a while—the other Agents want to see you grow stronger, too."
I shook my head.
"Forget it. I’ll stick with John Chou. Sure, he’s a bit devious, but his teaching is second to none."
Just thinking about those Underworld Agents makes me uneasy. They’re strong, but all these years they haven’t trained anyone truly capable. I sighed in frustration.
Especially that old eccentric—he taught me a few things, and I’d just started to get the hang of it. I was hoping to ask John Chou and Isabelle Frost for advice, but then this disaster happened.
"What a shame. The Tara Manifestation is the supreme secret art of our sect. If you could master even a little, it would be good for you."
I glanced at my father’s helpless expression and shot him a glare. He’s been this unserious for as long as I can remember.
"Dad, that belongs to someone else. Just let it go."
"I’m just telling the truth, daughter. Sure, it’s from their sect, but they offered it to you. You should accept—it’s a gesture of goodwill. Besides, you’re not a bad person. You wouldn’t use these arts for anything evil, so what’s the harm?"
I leaned against my mother’s knee, feeling uncomfortable. She massaged my temples.
"Mom, be gentle. It hurts."
Looking at my father’s helpless face, I spoke up immediately.
"Besides, I don’t follow Buddhist teachings. There’s no way I could learn it."
"Daughter, that has nothing to do with faith. Tara is just the goddess in the hearts of the people on that plateau. You don’t have to worship her. Anyone who truly seeks goodness can wield the power of the Tara Manifestation. We Underworld Agents have looked into this thoroughly."
I stared at my father in disbelief.
"We Underworld Agents are well informed—there are a lot of us. After collecting 9,998 souls, many help investigate the sects. That’s why people don’t like us. It’s been that way since ancient times. Anyway, Roxie, get some rest. Eat something, and when you feel better, we’ll go home."
I didn’t want to think about anything anymore. As dusk fell, we ate near the airport. I felt much better before we finally drove home.
"Basil Bertram should still be out by the Western Tree Sea, right?"
I muttered. My father nodded and turned to speak.
"Daughter, you don’t have to go there yourself. Just find Jing Le."
I sat up in the back seat, a sudden realization hitting me. That’s right—if I just go to Jing Le, she can call Basil Bertram, and he’ll come running.
"Dad, you’re the best. Hehe—can you help me get in touch with Jing Le?"
But my father immediately waved his hand helplessly.
"I can’t help with that, daughter. I don’t know her well. When you’re rested, you’ll have to contact Jing Le yourself."
Thinking about it, I remembered that in the darkness, the father and daughter would often visit our barbecue shop. They ate there many times, but I never spoke to Jing Le. More importantly, we had a falling-out before. I remember it clearly—even on the plane, I kicked her so hard she fractured a bone, because she was smoking in the row ahead and mouthing off. I lost my temper.
"What’s wrong, daughter? Judging by your face, do you have some kind of grudge with Jing Le?"
"It’s nothing, really. Back on the plane, I kicked her once and she ended up with a bruised back—couldn’t perform afterward."
My father burst out laughing.
"You’ve always had that temper, daughter. It’s never changed. When Qingyuan was around, you held back a little. But now it’s showing again."
Annoyed, I kicked the back of my father’s seat. He just laughed, and my mother shook her head as she drove.
"Roxie, behave yourself. You’re a girl, you know."
I grunted in reply. Thinking about it, my temper was all learned from my dad—picked up over the years. He was always like this, quick to act, especially with ghosts. When those ghosts bullied me, I watched how he dealt with them and couldn’t help but laugh.
I pressed my hand to my forehead, lost for words. Now I understood why, even in the darkness, even with my memories sealed, I never spoke a word to Jing Le. I never liked her, and after what happened, she probably hated me too.
But with the Blood Fiend Hall problem and John Chou’s situation, I knew Jing Le was my only option. The real issue was figuring out how to contact her.
Most importantly, Basil Bertram had surely sent Blue Wraiths to protect Jing Le. Li Jiayuan asked me to help, and everyone else in Blood Fiend Hall agreed: I should only contact Basil Bertram, since he’s the easiest to talk to of all the Ghost Sovereigns.
Around eight in the evening, I got home, took a relaxing shower, and my mother helped me with a full-body mask. Back in my room, I poured a glass of juice, opened my laptop, and started searching for recent news about Jing Le.
"She’s gotten popular again. Huh."
I sighed. In truth, Jing Le’s streak of bad luck started after I kicked her in the back. She was riding high, but after that, everything went downhill—one disaster after another. She fell straight from the top.
That’s how it is—when someone’s riding a winning streak, a single kick or trip can turn their luck. She was in the wrong, so I kicked her. Smoking and mouthing off in a public place like a plane—I couldn’t let it slide. She thought being a celebrity meant she could treat others however she liked.
Thinking about it made me restless. As another woman, I could sense that Jing Le probably still held a grudge.
I was stunned by her latest award—Jing Le had won Best Supporting Actress for a minor role, plus several TV drama prizes. She was back on stage, singing, and a flood of old fans returned. Her career had revived, and with these new honors, she was now Red Harmony’s top star. Just thinking about the Blue Wraiths working behind the scenes at that company sent chills down my spine.
If Red Hair found out, it would be chaos. He’s always been under John Chou’s thumb, and he’d make a scene—everyone would know. Worse, some people with ulterior motives might act. With war looming, things are messy enough. This has to be handled in secret.
"I should’ve gotten Basil Bertram’s phone number ages ago."
I sighed and watched Jing Le’s recent interview. She’d lost her arrogance, and her smile looked much more genuine—she seemed truly happy.
"She probably doesn’t hold a grudge anymore. She’s changed, after all."