Zhou Huan shook his head. "You two might as well follow Translator Long. At least if your cultivation improves, you won't have to agonize over being ghosts anymore."

"Two ghosts and one person? I doubt I have the capability for that. My grandson will deal with him sooner or later. This brat has no idea what that gold is for; he actually tried to swallow it." Translator Long's temper flared as he spoke, and he immediately cursed, "Kneel down! Don't you dare get up until I tell you to!"

Surprisingly, Long Sheng actually listened to Translator Long. Translator Long's eyes widened until they were perfectly round. Long Sheng looked at his grandfather, responded, and sank onto both knees, head bowed. He muttered something incomprehensible, but the fact was, he knelt.

Then Zhou Huan chuckled. "That's true. Your grandson is your responsibility. Others trying to discipline him is useless; if he doesn't want to listen, he won't."

"Not at all. It's all because I died too early; otherwise, this child wouldn't have turned out this way." Translator Long seemed unbothered. If Zhou Huan hadn't brought up the gold, he might never have mentioned it.

Zhou Huan glanced at the female ghost beside him, then at the soul of Money String behind him, before asking Translator Long, "Tell me about this fellow behind me first. What exactly is the story between you and Money String?"

"Oh, him? He tried to kill me back then. Though I didn't know it, I bought into the conviction that whether dead or alive, one must draw their final breath. Since it was my destined karma, I decided to accept it, lest I have to return to settle the score later." As he spoke, Translator Long moved closer to Money String. "Brother, you were wronged. Look at what I did to your body—do you understand why I treated you that way?"

"No, I'm still angry now." Money String seemed to have lost the spectral energy to fight with anyone, ghost or person.

Translator Long smiled. "I know your situation then was identical to my grandson's now. You valued money over your very life. Do you think you honored your parents? I had to strike you down so you could live a few more days."

"You beat me and claim it let me live longer?" Money String was genuinely bewildered. He stared at Translator Long, unable to grasp what he meant. He broke his legs, fractured his ribs, and now claimed it was to save him? As he spoke, Money String's anger intensified, nearing the point of an outburst.

Translator Long gently caressed Money String with one hand. "Let me tell you, I was about to bomb the Japanese arsenal that day, and you wouldn't leave. I had no choice but to beat you away. Those two strikes I landed weren't enough to break your bones. Do you know who else was helping me inside my body? Scarface's soul was lending strength. He was anxious because you refused to leave. After all, among all the traitors, you were the most trustworthy, even if you only worked for money. But Scarface insisted on saving you. I had no choice. So, after you returned, you lived another dozen years or so. You only changed because your later life was dissolute; otherwise, you’d have no problem living until now."

Translator Long's words seemed to deeply affect Money String. He was completely lost, unsure if he dared to believe if Translator Long's account was true.

"Translator Long, next I must ask you about this gold. You really need to explain the matter to me," Zhou Huan always hoped to uncover the whole mystery in one go to conclude this matter quickly, as he himself was uncomfortable constantly dealing with these issues.

Translator Long paced in place, the auspicious clouds behind him moving back and forth with his steps. Suddenly, he stopped dead. "Master Zhou, do you remember the day I escorted you out of the arsenal? When I turned back, I intended to return to the Japanese compound—at least I could earn some rice there. But I never expected that after years of struggling among the Japanese, I finally secured a position as a top-tier translator, only to be utterly beaten by the Kempeitai Commander, Yoshida, because I had participated in combat and was the only one who returned alive. My body was covered in scars and cuts."

Saying this, Translator Long revealed his shirt, exposing the scars on his body—raw wounds, bloody memories. As he spoke, Translator Long’s eyes seemed to mist over. He then continued, "In a fit of rage, I killed that bastard commander. After killing him, I claimed there was an assassin and escaped in the chaos. Later, I suddenly recalled the things in the tomb chamber—it was a waste to leave them there. Combined with Old Man Huang Cripple's dying wish to form a unit to fight the devils, I returned to the tomb. This time, all the mechanisms in the chamber were inert. I upended everything in there. Some of the things you see now are items I couldn't carry away."

"Then you formed the unit?" Zhou Huan asked again.

Translator Long continued, "Not quite. When I was extracting the gold, I heard faint breathing sounds coming from the narrow passage we descended through. I strained every nerve to climb up and saw that Old Man Huang Cripple was not dead; he still had one breath left. When he saw me, the first person he called out for was Master Zhou Huan. He then asked me to relay a message to you and gave me the ring he’d risked his life to remove."

Hearing this, the female ghost grew agitated again, as she finally heard news of the ring.

Zhou Huan lightly fiddled with his Luohan string once more, waiting for Translator Long to continue.

"But when I emerged from the tomb, I heard that you had died in a crash with the people in that car, so I couldn't find you at all. I found a buyer and sold all the gold along with the ring. After converting it to cash, I began organizing the unit. Later, I succeeded in blowing up the Japanese arsenal, and eventually, this force of mine grew to the size of a division, complete with heavy weaponry like artillery. So, the devils of this generation suffered quite a bit at my hands."

"Give me back my ring! Where is my ring?" The female ghost struggled in pain, but Zhou Huan restrained her.

Translator Long replied, "I truly don't know where your ring went, but I know it was sold to a foreigner—reportedly an American journalist. I know nothing more after that. Later, the unit needed equipment, as well as more manpower and supplies, so the money was spent quickly. No matter how much we had, it couldn't sustain that many people."

"Then where did all the gold here come from?" Zhou Huan inquired in detail.

Translator Long said, "All the gold here belongs to him." As he spoke, Translator Long lightly flicked his horsetail whisk. From the gold coffin, which no one had noticed before, a ghost slowly crawled out. This spirit was none other than Old Man Huang Cripple. As he emerged, his face was wreathed in smiles. Seeing Zhou Huan, he laughed, "Master Zhou, I missed you terribly! Everything he said is true. I gave him everything. Afterwards, my home was filled with gold; even the structure of my house was mostly built from gold. Since it was of no use to me, I entrusted it to Translator Long to use as he saw fit."

"Nonsense! I'm lucky I kept my jewels and rings deposited in a relatively trustworthy bank. Besides, you think giving me all your worthless cash was enough to rebuild a division?" Translator Long and Old Man Huang Cripple were already bickering again, neither willing to concede.

"You say my lifetime savings weren't enough to organize an army?" Old Man Cripple asked.

Translator Long retorted, "It was enough, but by the time I retrieved the gold, the devils had already vanished without a trace. What was I to do with the remaining gold? I could only craft some trinkets. Later, after I joined the War of Liberation, this gold remained. Fearing it would bring about disaster, I fashioned the gold into various objects, including this very coffin."

Zhou Huan finally spoke up for the female ghost. "Then can either of you remember who that ring was sold to, the one mentioned earlier? What was his name?"

"Didn't I say I didn't know? When I sold it, I intended to discuss it with Money String, but this buyer happened along, and I was desperate to organize the army, so I had to proceed like that. He was an American journalist, something... st... I can’t recall." Translator Long looked utterly blank, as he genuinely couldn't remember the purchaser.