Standing before the bathroom door, I gripped the handle, hesitating. I really didn’t want to touch that pile of dirty clothes again.
The stench was unbearable. But I lost at rock-paper-scissors—even if the three of them cheated. It seemed whoever wore the maternity dress was decided, and a noisy commotion broke out upstairs.
“Ha ha, Monk—Miles Mao, bet you didn’t expect that!” Miles Mao’s exaggerated laughter echoed down. (Monk is Miles Mao’s nickname, used because of his Buddhist background.)
“Damn it, Taoist—Mason Yu, you two cheated! Do it over!” Dalton Fang shouted, his voice hoarse. (Taoist is Mason Yu’s nickname, referencing his Taoist practices.)
"Monk, just accept it. Look at Qingyuan—he knows we cheated and didn’t say anything. He’s going to wear the beggar’s outfit, and you only have to put on the maternity dress. What’s the big deal?"
I looked up at them with a sense of grievance. The three of them were really going too far. (Monk and Taoist are nicknames for Miles Mao and Mason Yu.)
Finally, I mustered up the courage and opened the bathroom door. After all, if Black and White Impermanence showed up and we weren’t ready, we’d be in trouble.
A wave of stench rolled out, like the smell by a garbage pit—sour and foul. I pinched my nose and breathed slowly, trying to get used to it.
I gagged, clutching my mouth, and ran to the window, nearly throwing up. The stench clawed at my throat, and I needed to adapt to it, but I doubted I could anytime soon.
“Hurry up, Qingyuan.” Ouyang Wei pinched her nose and urged me.
"Do you feel anything?"
I asked. She shook her head.
“It’s only a little past ten. I don’t feel anything yet. Hurry up, Ethan. You’re a grown man—stop being so timid.”
I took a deep breath and walked over, first taking off my jacket. Then, holding my breath, I stripped quickly and put the clothes on as fast as I could.
Immediately, I rushed outside. As soon as I reached the door, I threw up.
After a while, I felt a little better. The stench was still strong, but out here, with the wind blowing, it was less intense. I could breathe again.
“Ethan, just find somewhere to hide and don’t come out, okay?”
I went across the small path at the door to the overgrown soccer field. The mix of fresh grass and lingering stench was still there, but I felt much better.
Miles Mao and the others started setting things up inside, drawing Spirit Charms everywhere. After a while, Mason Yu came over, pinching his nose, and handed me the Butcher's Blade.
I took it. Under the moonlight, though the blade was rusty, its edge still gleamed cold and sharp. This was the legendary Butcher's Blade from Three Coins Town, said to carry spiritual potency.
I swung the Butcher's Blade at the nearby grass. With a hiss, several stalks were sliced clean off. The cut was perfectly smooth.
Swallowing nervously, I studied the Butcher's Blade in my hand. It was incredibly sharp, and the material felt odd—not quite iron, not steel either. I pressed my finger against the blade.
A sharp pain shot through my finger, splitting the skin. I didn’t see the wound until a bead of dark red blood welled up.
“Dalton Fang, this knife you brought is really sharp.”
At eleven that night, we got up. I quickly put on the beggar’s outfit, grabbed the Butcher's Blade, and stared at the door, every muscle tense, hoping Black and White Impermanence would show up soon.
“Of course. They say this knife has been passed down for generations. In this last generation, the family line ended, so the old butcher took the knife into his coffin before he died.”
I tensed up, not daring to make a sound. Every sense was on edge as I focused all my attention on the pitch-black house, the oppressive silence pressing down on me.
The three of them had almost finished setting up. Dalton Fang wore a loose pink maternity dress, making everyone laugh—including me.
By eleven, we were all on edge, waiting in silence. Miles Mao took the Soulbinding Umbrella to the basement, along with Rachel Lan’s body. The old man had already tended to her, but if Rachel’s soul didn’t return soon, we’d be in trouble.
The most critical thing was the key to the soul lock. Basil Bertram said the soul lock was forged from stones from both the Frozen Hell and the Scorched Hell—without the key, there was no way to open it.
Ordinary underworld officials don’t have a key to the soul lock. Only the highest-ranking ones do—and Black and White Impermanence have one too.
We couldn’t fight head-on this time. The five items Basil Bertram told us to find were important—the goal was to snatch the key. Once Rachel Lan’s soul lock was undone, Vivian Ouyang would rush her to Basil Bertram.
After that, all we had to do was run.
The temperature started to drop. I shivered, especially with the wind picking up.
“Are they even coming?”
Miles Mao said impatiently.
“Be careful, everyone. Don’t rush in. If you get hit by the Mourning Staff in Impermanence’s hands, your soul will be knocked right out.”
I reminded them again. Basil Bertram had warned us many times: each of Black and White Impermanence carries a Mourning Staff. It can capture or guide souls. If an ordinary ghost gets hit, its soul scatters. If a person gets hit, their soul flies out instantly.
We’d already agreed: we could only distract them from a distance, then have the one in the beggar’s outfit sneak up and attack. We had to separate the two.
Basil Bertram told us those two always work together. Side by side, they’re incredibly powerful. Over the centuries, they’ve captured countless evil spirits and have tons of experience.
“It’s midnight,” Vivian Ouyang called from the second-floor balcony.
I gripped the butcher’s knife tighter. Everyone’s expression grew serious.
Minute by minute, time passed, but Black and White Impermanence didn’t appear. Vivian Ouyang didn’t sense anything.
An hour, then two. I started to feel sleepy—it was past three. If I lay down, I’d fall asleep for sure. I forced myself to stay awake, eyes wide open.
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“Forget it, let’s sleep.”
Vivian Ouyang called out. I went back inside, took off my clothes, left them in a room, and quickly showered. It was already four; with the rooster crowing, it seemed there was nothing to worry about.
Everyone looked relieved.
At ten the next morning, I woke up. The others got up one after another, except Vivian Ouyang, who was still asleep. Everyone looked pale, as if none of us had slept well.
Then Miles Mao brought up the Soulbinding Umbrella.
“Is everyone okay?”
Rachel Lan asked with concern.
“Don’t worry, Miss Lan, we’re fine.”
Miles Mao said with a smile. I looked at the dark circles under his eyes and smiled back.
The three of them started joking and fooling around again. I shook my head. These three, though not very capable, were always optimistic when things got tough.
“Go wake Vivian up for breakfast.”
Mason Yu said, and Dalton Fang knocked on Vivian Ouyang’s door, but there was no response.
“Let’s cook first. She likes to sleep in—let her rest a bit longer.”
So the four of us men got busy—washing vegetables, rinsing rice, and preparing the meal.
By the time the food was ready, it was eleven. I went to Vivian Ouyang’s room next to the living room and knocked for a long time, but got no answer.
“Move aside,” Miles Mao said, unlocking the door with the key.
“Get up for breakfast, Vivian! The sun’s already up!”
I smiled. The three Ghost Burial Squad members always argued with Vivian Ouyang, but they really looked out for her.
“Vivian.” Miles Mao walked over and shook her, but she didn’t move.
“She can’t be sleeping that deeply, right?” I joked, but suddenly, Miles Mao’s smile vanished.
“Damn it, something’s wrong! Monk! Mason Yu!” Miles Mao shouted loudly.
He pulled back the blanket. Vivian Ouyang was fully dressed, eyes closed, motionless—like she was just sleeping. But her breathing had stopped, and her hands and feet were ice cold.
“Her soul is gone.”
Miles Mao said. All of us were suddenly lost and bewildered.
“What’s this?” Suddenly, Dalton Fang picked up a small black scrap, like a piece of burnt paper. As soon as he touched it, he cried out—his finger turned pitch black, as if scorched.
The fragment slowly drifted down, then turned into smoke and vanished.
Dalton Fang clutched his finger in pain, sitting on the floor. We all looked at each other, stunned.
“Who was it? Who took Vivian’s soul?”
Mason Yu roared in anger.
Miles Mao’s face was grim.
“Last night, Ethan, you were the last one awake, right? When you showered, did you notice anything strange?”
I shook my head. Last night, I finished my shower at four—didn’t hear or see anything unusual.
But seeing that black mark, I immediately thought of Black Impermanence.
Later, Mason Yu and I drove to the Tree Sea. After asking around, Basil Bertram told us it was a Mourning Staff blossom from Black Impermanence.
Back at Miles Mao’s house, we were all overwhelmed with grief and anger. We hadn’t even started the fight, and already one of us had fallen. Last night, everyone’s nerves were stretched to the limit.
“Why did Impermanence target Vivian?”
Dalton Fang slammed the table, making a loud noise.
A low, mournful cry—it was Rachel Lan. She seemed to know Vivian’s soul had been taken.
All day, we wandered around, lost and distracted. In the afternoon, Rachel Lan reminded us to rest. Each of us went to bed with uneasy hearts.
At eleven that night, we got up. I quickly put on the beggar’s outfit, grabbed the butcher’s knife, and stared at the door, hoping Black and White Impermanence would show up soon.
A crisp bell rang out, clear and pleasant, as if from far away. Suddenly, every light in the house went out.
I tensed up, not daring to make a sound. I focused all my attention on the pitch-black house.
“Black and White Impermanence, get out here! If you’ve got the guts, come face us! Don’t skulk around—you’re supposed to be men of honor, not cowards. If you dare, show yourselves!”