I immediately contacted Redmond, hoping he could help me find Victor Miles. Victor Miles had previously appeared on television, hosting a late-night supernatural investigation show, but it was later canceled because many people thought it was too fake. After that, Victor Miles disappeared.
I waited anxiously as the members of Blackfang started eating. Felix Zhou came in and kept talking about how he had watched that useless Taoist's show, finding it hilarious.
I forced a smile, recalling that since the incident at the apartment building, I had only seen Victor Miles once, when Ray Lin gave me a ride.
I also thought of another guy, Felix Fan—he might know something. After all, during the Nine Dragons Conference, he snuck into the homes of the other Nine Sons and stole their ritual implements, causing them to lose all leverage in their dealings with Yin Chou.
Not knowing how long I'd have to wait, I decided to go look for Samuel Young myself. I still remembered his address in the city. After letting the others know, I floated away, while they stayed in the food court, planning to eat until morning.
"Take care, Ethan."
I nodded and quickly floated toward the northern part of the city. Following my memory, I soon found the quiet little neighborhood where Samuel Young used to live. But there was nothing left—just an empty lot.
I was stunned. I walked onto the empty lot but couldn't sense anything—not a single clue was left behind.
"Come out."
I shouted angrily, and with a whoosh, a shadow floated out from the nearby house, trembling as it looked at me.
"Big brother, let's talk this out. I'm just here waiting for someone."
I glared at him fiercely.
"Waiting for who?"
"Zhang Qingyuan."
I looked at the shadow in surprise and told him I was Zhang Qingyuan. He grinned and handed me a letter.
Divine Law is clear, change is eternal.
Just eight short characters, nothing else.
"Brother Zhang, help me out. I've been locked here for a long time. I want to leave too. That Taoist's business is finished, hehe."
I glanced at him. The shadow moved, a pale blue chain rattled around his neck. I walked over and waved my hand—with a crack, the pale blue chain turned to ash and slowly drifted away.
Divine Law is clear, change is eternal, huh? Heh.
I muttered, letting go. The letter in my hand floated up, carried by the wind, and drifted away into the distance.
"Sorry, Xiaoyaozi, but I have no intention of trying to change any of this."
I slowly floated up, glancing back at the empty lot. Now my only option was to find Mao Wang. But then I remembered another guy—Tang Cai. He knew some Maoshan techniques, and Red Hair once used him to embarrass Yin Choujian.
The last time I saw him, he said he'd found a new boss. I immediately took out my phone and called Red Hair.
Within minutes, I got a reply: Tang Cai was dead—just recently, and it was a gruesome death. Hu Tianshuo and some others had handled it; his soul was devoured, two-thirds of his flesh eaten, as if by some wild beast.
Suddenly, I thought of another person—Mao Yiping, who lived in the Wisteria Complex. I immediately floated westward; that was where my childhood home was. I'd been to the Wisteria Complex before, to deal with the vicious ghost inside.
The night grew darker. Half an hour later, I stopped and looked down at the apartment complex below. A wave of unspeakable sorrow hit me—the Traitor was nearby, always playing my role, sometimes visiting my parents. The three guys from Qiyin Mountain were there too.
"Hey, Qingyuan, why didn't you say anything when you came back?"
Hong Shi's gentle voice sounded, and three green lights flew toward me.
I quietly looked at Old Wei and the lanterns, and nodded.
"Please, I’ll come back in a few days."
A wave of chill surged up from below. I looked down and saw a mass of black sludge rising from the ground—it was that zombie. He grinned at me with a cold, sinister smile. I didn’t look back and headed straight for the Wisteria Complex.
What I saw unsettled me—gone. The Wisteria Complex had been leveled, piles of building materials everywhere, nothing left. Lights shone from a few sheds, and I could hear workers chatting and laughing. I slowly descended and walked onto the construction site.
Taking on human form, I walked in and started asking around.
The answer I got was that nobody had lived here for years—it had been designated for demolition and reconstruction. No one was around, and when construction began earlier this year, nobody saw anyone either. Many people said the place was haunted; nobody dared come near at night, let alone live here.
I floated up and let the ghost spirits come out of my body, searching every corner of the Wisteria Complex. But there wasn't a single ghost—it was as if everything had vanished overnight.
Now my only hope was to find Mao Wang. If that failed, I planned to visit Putian Temple myself—Master Mingde might know something.
Just then, my phone rang—it was Red Hair. I answered immediately.
"We've found Zhang Qingyuan."
Instantly, I was overjoyed. After confirming the location, I floated up, glanced back at the Wisteria Complex, and quickly flew east.
Mao Wang was now living in the old city district in the east. It was easy to find—many old neighborhoods there were slated for demolition.
It was late at night when I arrived at the eastern district Red Hair mentioned, already scheduled for redevelopment. After some effort, I found the original staff from that paranormal show—they told Zifeng that Mao Wang lived here.
[This chapter is not yet finished~.~ Please click next page to continue reading the exciting story!]
All I could hope for now was that Mao Wang hadn't left yet.
The nearby streets were lit only by dim streetlights. It was 1 a.m., but fortunately, there was still a bustling snack street with plenty of people. I kept asking around if anyone knew where Mao Wang lived.
But I found nothing. Even though I spread out my ghost network, Mao Wang's power was so weak he couldn't even trigger it. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
"Sir, are you looking for that fortune-telling crippled Taoist?"
I quickly turned around and saw a man picking up trash next to a snack stall. He smiled at me.
"Did he scam you? Haha, that fake Taoist sets up a fortune-telling stall on Dongmen Street every day."
I responded with an 'oh' and thanked him. At least I now knew Mao Wang's whereabouts. But I didn't know he was crippled—could it be that Yin Choujian crippled him when he threw him off the building?
I shook my head—Mao Wang hadn’t seemed crippled when he was on that paranormal show.
I waited anxiously all night. Around nine in the morning, I went to Dongmen Street, lined with shops and crowded with vendors—chess boards, trinkets, snacks, breakfast stalls. Old districts like this were rare.
But after waiting a long time, Mao Wang didn’t show up. When I asked around, people said he usually came in the afternoon.
Around noon, I spotted someone in a tattered, yellowed Taoist robe, carrying a sign and a small stool, limping with a cane toward a street corner. The vendors greeted him; he still had the same little mustache as before, but now looked drunk and weary. He set up his sign, which advertised fortune telling, knowing past and future, authentic Maoshan skills—none of it looked convincing.
If I were a customer, I wouldn’t go to a fortune-teller like that either.
Just as I was about to approach, a group of drunken men walked up to Mao Wang’s stall. He greeted them with a smile and started talking about fortune-telling.
They squatted in front of the stall, mocking Mao Wang as he spoke.
"If you’re so good at fortune-telling, why don’t you predict when you’ll die?"
The group burst into laughter. Mao Wang’s face changed, his eyes filled with bitterness and unspeakable sadness. The men got up and left; I couldn’t stand to watch.
As they walked away, laughing and joking, streams of murderous energy caught their feet, and they all fell flat on their faces.
Mao Wang immediately looked around in panic, grabbing a peachwood sword from his tattered bag and pulling out a bagua charm. I walked over slowly, squatting in front of his stall with a smile.
"Master, tell my fortune."
Mao Wang quickly put on a smile, but immediately jabbed the peachwood sword at me. I gently pinched the blade with one hand, and he pressed the bagua charm against my chest, chanting under his breath.
"I'm not here to fight."
"Monster, coming out in broad daylight—I'm no match for you. What do you want?"
I looked seriously at Mao Wang.
"Master, I'm Zhang Qingyuan. Maybe you remember me."
Mao Wang's face changed instantly; he stared at me in shock.
"Which Zhang Qingyuan are you?"
I nodded.
I helped Mao Wang pick up his sign and carried his stool, supporting him as he limped along. He planned to take me to his home. I was curious about his left leg, so I tried probing it with my ghost network—the bone had healed, but it seemed to have been shattered by a tremendous force; the whole leg was ruined.
"Heh, laugh if you want. I'm a useless cripple—nobody cares about me. But it's because I'm useless that those masked guys spared my life."
His voice was full of bitter irony. I stared wide-eyed at Mao Wang.