After more than twenty years, the supernatural world saw the emergence of Zachary Justice, known by his Taoist title Master Zhiqing. Now over sixty, his hair had turned mostly white, but his skin was ruddy and his complexion healthy.
Zachary Justice was a man of integrity. During the relatively peaceful years of minor friction between humans and ghosts, he built a vast network among exorcists and always responded to their requests. On Mount Qingming, he established the Qingming Temple, and every winter, summer, and autumn, he would take his two disciples down the mountain to continue searching for clues.
"Master, Elder Peach has arrived."
Zhang Anle walked in. In his thirties, he was robust and handsome, and his cultivation had already surpassed that of his senior brother, Zhang Wuji.
"Invite him in."
A Taoist in his forties entered, dressed in a tattered pale yellow robe, Buddhist beads around his neck, and a peachwood sword strapped to his back. He was one of the Nine Dao Gate Elders. Zachary Justice knew everything that had happened before—he remembered, ten years ago, on a snowy night, sensing a chilling presence and going to investigate. Elder Peach was holding a woman, locked in battle with a man wearing a bamboo hat and mask, whose power was overwhelming.
That man was called Wraithshade, founder of the newly risen Ghost Syndicate. Zachary Justice had clashed with this sect several times before. They were spirit traffickers, selling enchanted ghosts to wealthy families for fortune and prosperity, but also harming ordinary people. Zachary Justice had once slain four of the Ghost Syndicate's soul hunters.
"The new tea has just been roasted. Anle, go boil some water."
Elder Peach was still as lost and broken as he had been ten years ago. His connection to Wraithshade remained unspoken, and Zachary Justice never asked. Each time, Elder Peach would come to Zachary Justice for answers.
"So, how have you been this past year?"
Elder Peach shook his head, sighed, and clutched his chest.
"Master Zhiqing, there is always a lingering resentment in my chest that I cannot dispel."
Zachary Justice nodded.
"It's alright. Resentment is born of the heart—let it be. Time cannot wash away the bitterness within, but do not stray from your original intent."
Elder Peach nodded. After staying on the mountain for a week, he descended.
Zhang Anle watched Elder Peach leave with disinterest.
"Master, that guy must've fallen for that dead woman, right?"
Zachary Justice smiled and shook his head. Love was the one thing he'd never experienced in his life, and he didn't really understand it.
"Anle, did you finish what I asked you to do?"
Zhang Anle grunted in reply.
"I've already visited all seven Ghost Sovereigns' territories, Master. Why keep searching? Every time we go down the mountain, it's just chasing old troubles from twenty years ago. Even if we find them, could you really stand against them?"
At that moment, Master Zachary Wu emerged from the woodshed, his face shadowed with black smoke.
"Anle, those heretics are a scourge on the living world. What they've done is even worse than the Ghost Sovereigns, crueler than the most vicious ghosts. Even the Underworld is investigating them. As righteous men, how can we stand by and do nothing? Didn't Master always teach us to be upright? You're always so indifferent, acting like none of this concerns you. All these years..."
"Wu, that's enough. Say no more. Your junior is not a bad person—he just likes to complain."
Master Zachary Wu stared at his master with some dissatisfaction. Every time, he would defend his younger disciple. The two brothers had been at odds for as long as anyone could remember, often arguing or even fighting. Just as Zachary Justice had named them: Wu and Anle.
Once again descending the mountain, Zachary Justice continued his search for the Child of Malice. While there had been no major breakthroughs over the years, he had managed to capture many White Mask Agents and Masked Men. The Red Mask Agents and Blue-Faced Men, unlike the lower-ranked White Mask and Masked Men, would rather take their own lives than reveal anything about the Immortality Society.
After traveling for some time, Zachary Justice parted ways with his two disciples. Sensing ghostly activity in a nearby town, he decided to investigate.
"Master Zhiqing, I didn't expect we'd meet again..."
"Master Sherman Cloud, what brings you here?"
Before him stood a monk Zachary Justice had met over a decade ago—a somewhat plump man whose cultivation was not as high, but who was generous and often traveled the living world to exorcise ghosts. The two would occasionally cross paths.
In a small shop, the two entered and sat down, ordering some vegetarian food. As they settled in, Master Sherman Cloud let out a sigh.
"What's wrong? Are you short on money for this meal...?"
Master Sherman Cloud shook his head, holding his prayer beads in hand.
"I don't know why, but ever since this year began, I've encountered several disasters. I fear I won't make it through the year."
"Why say such discouraging things?"
Master Sherman Cloud then explained he planned to visit Jiangnan, entrusted by someone to do so. When asked why, he said he had an appointment with the old leader of a theatrical troupe—nothing complicated, just a visit.
Zachary Justice didn't think much of it. Jiangnan wasn't far from here, and he planned to head south anyway to visit some fellow exorcists and inquire about the Immortality Society.
After the two joined forces to deal with the ghost haunting the town, they prepared to go their separate ways.
"Master Zhiqing, if I ever face true calamity, I'll have to rely on you. Your cultivation keeps growing."
Zachary Justice smiled and shook his head.