The method Zhou Huan proposed was, after all, the pinnacle of the professional, and Wang Xiaohe had no choice but to follow along. Turning back, Xiaohe said to Zhou Huan, "My two colleagues just returned from the female ghost's hometown. They've pieced together her whole story and got the statements taken just before she died. We'll find a place to look at them shortly."

"Big brother, big sister, make way! The cart is coming through!" Dongzi shouted, pushing a small cart laden with loess, as he maneuvered it toward the morgue.

Zhou Huan stepped forward to help Dongzi push the cart, dumping the earth near the morgue entrance. Then he instructed Dongzi, "Go to the paper burning shop outside the crematorium and buy ten shi of joss paper, a bundle of incense, and about a hundred yuanbao ingots."

Hearing this, Dongzi looked slightly nervous, shuffling closer to Zhou Huan and whispering sheepishly, "Brother, have you forgotten who we are? Where would I get money?"

Zhou Huan had been so absorbed in his work all night that he had almost forgotten he was currently posing as a beggar—he had no cash. But the matter had progressed this far; he couldn't stop now. He needed to properly placate the ghosts in the morgue who had placed their trust in him. He glanced several times toward Wang Xiaohe, unable to meet her eyes directly. How could a grown man bring himself to ask a woman for money? Zhou Huan was torn apart by the internal conflict.

Wang Xiaohe had already guessed Zhou Huan's predicament. "Brother Huan, let Dongzi and me go buy those things. You wait here!" With that, she gave Dongzi a meaningful look, and the two headed out toward the crematorium gates.

Alone in the morgue, Zhou Huan busied himself. With a shovel, he scooped up the yellow earth from under the pine branches Dongzi had brought, meticulously turning it over the two pools of black blood. In moments, the earth had completely absorbed the dark liquid. Zhou Huan then used the white shrouds covering the two corpses to wrap each mound of soil separately, placing the two bundles near the bodies of the Driver and Li Cheng, respectively.

Zhou Huan stood quietly in the morgue, eyes lightly closed. After a moment, he spoke softly, "Driver, Li Cheng, you have received your own blood. Old Fourth Yu, I am powerless; your blood may be lost forever—consider it your penance. You will both be cremated tomorrow. I'll bring some spirit money for you later so you can be on your way!"

Dongzi and Wang Xiaohe returned with the offerings. "Business is surprisingly good even outside the crematorium; even the joss paper shops are open twenty-four hours!" Dongzi remarked with a touch of awe while carrying the supplies.

Wang Xiaohe handed Zhou Huan the yuanbao he needed. "Brother Huan, are these enough?"

"Yes, that's plenty. Alright, let's go. We’ll burn the incense and paper at the entrance, and then we should leave!"

The three exited the morgue. Zhou Huan used a stick to draw two large circles on the ground, leaving an opening in each circle facing the morgue. He then drew a cross inside the circles and divided the joss paper and yuanbao Xiaohe had bought into two portions, setting them alight.

Holding the incense, Zhou Huan chanted, "Ghost brothers and sisters who kindly made way earlier, come back to collect your money and rest! You take the pile on the left. Don't take too much; share it equally!" He then stuck half a bundle of incense into the left circle. Next, he placed the remaining half bundle into the right circle, saying, "Old Fourth Yu, Li Cheng, Driver, take your money and be on your way!"

A faint breeze stirred around the fires. Soon, the joss paper and yuanbao were consumed. Zhou Huan recited the Rebirth Mantra three times, then turned to Xiaohe. "It’s nearly dawn. Let's check on Old Song, and then we can rest at the funeral clothing shop. We’ve been exhausted all day!"

Zhou Huan truly looked like a leader at that moment, which made Xiaohe both fond of him and willing to follow. Dongzi was ecstatic to hear about resting. "That’s wonderful! I need to sleep for three days and three nights straight; I’m dead tired!"

"Hmph! If you sleep for three days and three nights, you’ll be completely dead. Besides, if you don't finish copying three thousand Bishi Fu talismans, I’m not done with you!" Zhou Huan's words carried significant weight. Dongzi’s expression of helplessness and grievance contrasted sharply with his eyes, which were fixed on Zhou Huan’s retreating back. Zhou Huan and Xiaohe walked ahead, got into the car, and the three headed toward the hospital, leaving the crematorium.

On the way, Dongzi and Zhou Huan managed a quick nap in the car, while Xiaohe fought off yawns one after another. They finally managed to drag themselves to the hospital where Old Song was staying.

Xiaohe parked the car right at the main entrance of the hospital and nudged Zhou Huan. "Brother Huan, we’re here. Let’s go in and check on Old Song’s condition. If he’s alright, we’ll leave!"

Zhou Huan rubbed his eyes and murmured an assent, pushing open his door. Dongzi slept on the seat like a log, drooling, his large head leaning against the window, snoring loudly, limbs completely slack.

"Dongzi’s out cold like this; let’s not wake him. Let's go up, you and I," Xiaohe said to Zhou Huan upon seeing Dongzi’s state.

Zhou Huan said nothing. He took off his jacket and draped it over Dongzi, then quietly closed the car door before turning to enter the hospital with Xiaohe.

Old Song’s ward was on the third floor. Both Zhou Huan and Xiaohe were utterly fatigued from the long day. Once inside the elevator, they leaned against the handrails, facing each other. Before long, they both burst out laughing.

The elevator reached the third floor. As the doors slid open, an elderly man stepped in, followed by two burly men in suits—evidently his bodyguards.

After stepping out of the elevator, Zhou Huan stopped dead in his tracks, letting his gaze linger on the old man for a moment before brushing past him.

Huh? That man looks so familiar? Haven't I seen him somewhere before? The old man, accompanied by his guards, entered the elevator, and Zhou Huan continued walking while deep in thought.

Wang Xiaohe noticed Zhou Huan's reaction and asked, "Brother Huan, what’s wrong?"

"That old man... I feel like I've seen him somewhere before!"

Wang Xiaohe naturally glanced back toward the elevator, but the doors had already closed and it was descending. She then asked, "You mean the one who just got on? I feel like I've seen him somewhere too. Where could it be?"

Neither Zhou Huan nor Xiaohe could recall, so they continued toward Old Song’s room. After only a few steps, Xiaohe suddenly stopped. "I remember now! That's the father of that scoundrel Wang Qiang!"

"Oh, right! No wonder he looked so familiar!" Zhou Huan’s eyes darted, and an immediate thought struck him: Since Wang Qiang got beaten up so badly, perhaps this scoundrel is getting his just deserts? Regardless of whether it's good or bad, he’s earning it. After doing so many bad deeds, he deserves whatever retribution comes his way! He then said, "Let’s forget about him. Let’s go to Old Song’s room!"

It didn't take long for Xiaohe and Zhou Huan to reach Old Song’s ward. When they pushed the door open, they saw Old Song lying in bed with his eyes tightly shut, apparently asleep.

Zhou Huan approached and gently lifted Old Song’s blanket, carefully examining his arms. They seemed much better, showing no other unusual changes. He then pulled the blanket back into place. He gestured behind him with both hands, signaling Xiaohe to leave.

Outside the door, Zhou Huan leaned close to Xiaohe’s ear. "Let's go back. Since Old Song is sleeping, let him sleep. We shouldn't disturb him. Let's go back to the funeral clothing shop and get some proper rest!"

"Isn't Old Song out of serious danger? Then let’s head back!" To be honest, Xiaohe was also desperate for rest so they could quickly find Hongyi Luxiu.

As the two were about to leave, a nurse walked down the hall carrying a stack of charts, preparing to enter Old Song's room.

"Nurse, wait!" Zhou Huan called out from behind her.

The nurse turned around. "Sir, is there something you need?"

"I am a family member of the patient in this room, and I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh, go ahead then!"

"Is there someone named Wang Qiang admitted here? He’s an old friend of mine; I wanted to check on him!"

"You mean that prodigal son? Yes, he was admitted. His room is at the end of the corridor."

"What is his illness?"

"Oh, the doctor is still running tests. If you have any questions, you should ask the doctor!" With that, the nurse headed toward the nurses' station.

Zhou Huan glanced at Wang Xiaohe. "Let’s go. That bastard Wang Qiang—whatever happens to him is his own business!"

The two left the hospital building and got into the car. Dongzi was still sound asleep, his snores filling the quiet air.

Zhou Huan settled into the passenger seat while Xiaohe drove them toward the funeral clothing shop.

Back at the shop, Zhou Huan delivered two loud slaps to wake Dongzi. "You little brat, get up and get back to sleep!"

Dongzi jolted awake. "Brother! Why are you hitting me again?"

"Get up and go back inside to sleep!"

"Oh!" Eyes still closed, Dongzi was pulled by Zhou Huan into the shop. He stumbled into the inner room, threw himself onto the bed without even removing his clothes, and immediately passed out again.

Wang Xiaohe followed them in. "Brother Huan, is there a place for me to sleep?"

"Yes, you can sleep in Old Song’s room. I’ll sleep with Dongzi." Zhou Huan led Xiaohe into Old Song’s room, which was cluttered with candles, joss paper, and books on talismans. On the bedside table lay a thin booklet—the ancestral record of the Shoushi Sect.

Xiaohe flipped open the book and immediately spotted Zhou Huan’s name. She turned back to him in astonishment. "Brother Huan, are you truly the founding ancestor of the Shoushi Sect?"

"I believe so. The Zhou Huan in the ancestral record must be my previous life. Heh heh, Xiaohe, you should sleep first. I’ll go lock the front door; I’ll wake you both up first thing tomorrow morning!" Zhou Huan turned, helped Xiaohe close her door, and then went to secure the main entrance of the shop.

A small green ball of light floated lazily in the air, and a hoarse, ancient voice drifted down from above. "Ancestor Zhou, you should hurry and sleep. I will stand guard for you; if anything happens, I will wake you!"

The Old Song’s funeral clothing shop housed many spirits, though ordinary people couldn't see them. Zhou Huan recognized the green light as a resident guardian. "Alright then, I’ll trouble you tonight. Here, take this money."

Zhou Huan casually picked up a sheet of spirit money with a denomination in the billions from the candle and incense table, lit it with his lighter, and tossed it into the paper burning basin.

"Oh my, Ancestor, I am truly grateful! I will guard the door well tonight!"

"Good. I’m going to sleep now!" Zhou Huan returned to Dongzi’s side. Dongzi was sprawled out like a large toad, occupying the entire bed by himself.

Zhou Huan reached out to nudge Dongzi, who mumbled indistinctly in his sleep, completely unresponsive to pushes. This vexed Zhou Huan greatly; he couldn't sleep if Dongzi was like this! Having no other choice, Zhou Huan could only watch Dongzi sleep, unable to bring himself to wake the man while he looked so deeply unconscious.

"Ancestor Zhou, Old Song’s room still has room for one more!" the guarding green ghost announced loudly to Zhou Huan.

Zhou Huan felt especially awkward. "What are you suggesting? That’s a young lady’s room. How could I, an old man, go squeeze in there?"

"Hey, it’s just for sleeping, nothing complicated!" The green light floated back and forth around Zhou Huan. "Anyway, whoever is tired knows it; how many hours have we all been awake?" The green light yawned theatrically, attempting to induce sleepiness in Zhou Huan.

The green light’s tactic actually worked. Following the yawning sound, Zhou Huan let out several deep yawns himself, truly feeling at his limit. He struggled internally but could no longer resist the onslaught of fatigue. Zhou Huan pushed open Xiaohe’s door. She was deeply asleep, her blanket half-tossed off.

Zhou Huan picked up the blanket to cover her, but the moment he leaned over, Xiaohe turned over, throwing an arm around Zhou Huan’s neck. She then pulled his head down onto her chest and continued sleeping soundly.