As Gui Tai plunged towards the circle, his entire body was encased in spectral energy, repelling the black miasma and radiating light, soaring around the perimeter like a comet. This was perhaps his final assault. He poured forth every ounce of his Yin Qi, his ghostly essence, plus the meager power gleaned from the essence of the surrounding circle, using the black mist to incinerate his own form as he launched his last charge at Zhou Huan.

Seeing Gui Tai hurtle toward him, Zhou Huan knew his end was near. This wasn't a simple attack; the ghost was staking its existence against his. For a spirit, this was the ultimate gamble. Yet, Zhou Huan couldn't bear the thought of Gui Tai ending in utter annihilation. He wished for Gui Tai to at least find reincarnation and a better fate. Zhou Huan braced himself, meeting the final impact with only his pure Zhenqi.

But at that very moment, Dongzi shoved Zhou Huan hard, muttering, "Brother Huan, I told you to just catch me when I came down, why were you sitting there spacing out? You’re exhausting me." As his words ended, Zhou Huan was already pushed aside. He looked up just as the burning mass of black energy that was Gui Tai slammed violently into Dongzi’s body.

Following a sound that cracked the heavens and shattered the earth, everyone present froze in shock. Dongzi had vanished; Zhou Huan was flung a great distance by the shockwave, tumbling far to the side, his eyes wide with panic and pain.

"My brother, Dongzi, Dongzi!" Zhou Huan cried out three or four times, his voice escalating. When he looked back to where he had been sitting, only a patch of black mist remained on the ground, accompanied only by Gui Tai’s wild, strained laughter.

Zhou Huan exploded with rage, intending to rush forward and destroy Gui Tai, but what confounded him was that from beneath the black miasma, two hands had inexplicably emerged, each gripping a talisman tightly.

"I’ll stick them! I’ll stick them! I wrote these talismans for two days; I refuse to believe they can’t kill you!" The voice belonged to Dongzi. Watching Dongzi’s hands dart over the mass of black energy Gui Tai had become, slapping talismans on one after another, soon the entirety of Gui Tai’s form was plastered. Dongzi then clawed his way out from under the black cloud, his face blackened with soot. Spotting one last talisman stuck to his own foot, he kicked out viciously: "The last one! Die!" In total, Dongzi had affixed nearly several thousand talismans.

However, Gui Tai’s eyes, filled with helpless terror, fixed on Dongzi, as if intending to devour him. Gui Tai’s hand was already reaching for Dongzi’s heart. Just then, Tian Xiong, Hong Kun, and Shi Bingyuan simultaneously hauled themselves up and rushed toward Dongzi.

Somewhere nearby, Zhou Huan had begun chanting the Mantra of Ten Thousand Buddhas. The sound of the mantra was grander than ever heard before, enveloping the entire scene and dragging the atmosphere into a realm of serene, divine power. Looking back at the black mass, as the mantra continued uninterrupted, Gui Tai’s body began to transform. It started to etherealize; the hand that had reached for Dongzi was already fading away. The thousands of talismans burst forth with dazzling golden light from Gui Tai’s body, a light revealing an inexplicable profundity. Gui Tai uttered no more sound; his entire soul form dissolved with the scattering golden light. The talismans began to burn until finally, only a single black speck remained of Gui Tai. This speck was enveloped by the last unburnt talisman and crumbled into dust.

Dongzi watched on, stunned speechless. He had never imagined his talismans possessed such devastating power or could yield such an outcome.

Tian Xiong watched, his mind perfectly clear. These were the Ten Thousand Buddha Talismans that Zhou Huan had instructed Dongzi to draw. While the talismans alone had little effect on the maddened Gui Tai, the combination of the talisman barrage and the chanting of the Ten Thousand Buddha Mantra was something the depleted ghost couldn't withstand. Thus, the true power of the mantra manifested at this very moment.

"Apprentices, chant the Rebirth Sutra, and send Gui Tai on his way!" Chants rose up, and the heavens became peaceful and benevolent...

Unbeknownst to him, Zhou Huan was tending to Xiao He in the new Fushou Hall, waiting for her to awaken. But time marched on—a month passed, then half a year. Xiao He remained unresponsive. Tian Xiong, having taken his vows, had returned to Mount Wutai. The others continued their unwavering support in caring for Xiao He. Outside matters were now largely managed by Shi Bingyuan and Hong Kun, while Dongzi handled the household chores.

"Brother Huan, Master, Brother!" Dongzi bolted down the stairs from the second floor of Fushou Hall toward the study.

Inside the study, Zhou Huan was kneeling before the ancestral tablets, praying that his Xiao He would open her eyes and that the devoted couple could live out their lives together happily.

As Dongzi burst in, Zhou Huan, long accustomed to his impulsive behavior, barely reacted to the clamor.

"Brother, it’s bad!"

"What is it?"

"Sister Xiao He, Sister Xiao He she..." Dongzi gasped, struggling for breath.

Hearing this, Zhou Huan instantly felt a surge of excitement. In his mind, this was precisely how Dongzi would announce that Xiao He had finally awakened. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring Dongzi completely, and sprinted toward the second floor. Bursting into the room, he found it utterly empty. On Xiao He’s bed lay only a letter, her bronze mirror, and the only gift Zhou Huan had ever given her—a water cup.

Zhou Huan froze. He spun around and gripped Dongzi’s collar tightly. "Where is your sister?"

"I was about to say that just now, but you didn't give me a chance."

"Speak!"

"This is how it was when I came upstairs. I haven't even opened the letter yet. When I checked on her this morning, she was still lying in bed. In the single hour I spent cooking, she was gone!" Dongzi sounded genuinely wronged, but at this moment, he could comprehend Zhou Huan's distress.

Zhou Huan snatched the letter from the bed and opened it. A dignified seven-foot man, a master-level figure in the Shoushi profession, shed tears of a heart broken by love.

The letter laid out Xiao He's perspective: Brother Huan, I woke up. I’ve been awake for three or four days now. I know how long you all have cared for me. But I looked into the bronze mirror, and what it showed me was that I was Heshen. I’ve had dreams like that before. I know I shouldn't have any entanglement with you, Zhou Huan. All I should have done was care for you, but now you are the one caring for me. I wanted to bear you sons and daughters, but I can't. I keep encountering these bizarre spiritual anomalies. So, I made a decision: I am going to the Underworld to guard you every day. I hope Xiaoling can give you heirs. I will protect you in that world because I am a police officer, and because I have always loved you.

Reading the letter, Zhou Huan’s mind suddenly went blank. His thoughts, now as barren as white paper, could not process anything else but the recurring image of Xiao He. It shouldn't be this way; Xiao He shouldn't have chosen suicide. Zhou Huan sighed, wishing he could reclaim her beautiful spirit, calling back that rare smile of hers.

Shi Bingyuan walked up from downstairs, calling out "Master" as he ascended. Reaching Xiao He's room, he saw Zhou Huan standing motionless, clutching the letter, looking like a statue. Shi Bingyuan paused, then took the letter from Zhou Huan’s hand. Seeing it, Shi Bingyuan too was devastated. His Master's wife, whom they had lived with for so long, was simply gone—it seemed too worthless an end.

At that moment, Hong Kun arrived at the doorway carrying a package. "Master, a package came downstairs for you. The label says it seems to be something the Mistress mailed to you."

Hearing anything related to Xiao He, Zhou Huan immediately tore the box open. Inside was an urn, affixed with a photograph and an official death certificate from the police station. The urn contained ashes. Zhou Huan’s body went weak. Everyone present was stunned speechless upon seeing the urn. The note tucked inside the package was brutally clear: Xiao He had arranged for someone to cremate her and mail the ashes back under her own name. The return address on the package was the Funeral Home.

Zhou Huan fell ill over this incident for two months. The first thing he did upon recovering was to take Xiao He’s ashes to Heshen's tomb in Jixian County.

Dongzi and Xiaoling accompanied him to fulfill this last wish. Afterward, Zhou Huan looked up at the sky and said to Xiaoling, "You and Dongzi go back first. I have something else to do, and I’ll return once it’s done."

"No!"

"I just need some quiet time. You should leave!" Before Zhou Huan could finish, he heard a very familiar voice speaking from behind him.

"Zhou Huan, you are truly troubled. You’ve lost your own wife, and now come see who has returned!"

Zhou Huan would recognize that voice even if the speaker had turned to ash—it was Old Mr. Wang. But behind Mr. Wang stood someone else. The sight of this person made Zhou Huan’s lower jaw tremble again: "This..."

Xiaoling and Dongzi were equally paralyzed. How could Xiao He be standing here when they had just consigned her ashes minutes ago?

When Xiao He stood before Zhou Huan, the two gazed at each other for a long time. Hot tears streamed down the faces of everyone present.

"Where did you run off to?"

Old Mr. Wang stepped closer to Zhou Huan. "Alright, my task is complete. I can tell you this much: I persuaded Xiao He for three days and three nights before I managed to bring her here. Cherish her, and don't just give her a broken cup—give her something substantial! And what about that Xiaoling? That woman has been with you for so long; you owe her some kind of commitment. Well, I have nothing more to do here. You three talk amongst yourselves. Dongzi, let’s head back to Fushou Hall. Let them do whatever they want!"

Zhou Huan and Xiaoling were unsure whether to feel joy or sorrow. Seeing someone who had just died inexplicably resurrected required an explanation, but the three of them couldn't manage it. They could only embrace each other, absorbing the warmth of their shared love.

The truth was, Xiao He had used connections to procure her own death certificate. Her intention was to make Zhou Huan abandon the Shoushi profession entirely. She had already lost two children due to supernatural encounters, and she couldn't bear another loss. This was why she had orchestrated this scheme with Old Mr. Wang.

"Brother Huan, let's go back. Let's stop doing this work, shall we? We have enough money now!" Xiao He said, holding Zhou Huan's right hand.

Xiaoling took Zhou Huan's left hand. "Yes, we won't do it anymore. My restaurant can support the three of us, and your apprentices too, with plenty to spare."

Zhou Huan mused for a long time. "But I still need something to do, don't I?"

Xiao He and Xiaoling exchanged a look, momentarily stumped.

Zhou Huan thought again, then declared, "I know what! For us to have many descendants in the future, for us to live happy lives, I've decided. I’ll go back, dig out my specialized beggar's outfit, and become a beggar right here in our city. With my reputation, I can certainly still realize my self-worth!"

This statement broke the tension, and the three erupted in laughter. They got into the car Xiao He had driven and headed back toward their familiar grounds...

In this world, ghosts and monsters do not inherently exist. As for the coincidences scientists speak of, this writer certainly disagrees. The gap between religion and science is ultimately a matter of roots. Material phenomena are observed with the eyes; religion is about the spirit, contemplated with the heart. However, the late Professor Hawking has proven one thing: when electrons and molecules break down to their very core, they are revealed to be empty. Therefore, supernatural phenomena are not what is truly frightening. Perhaps the only thing to fear is the human heart itself!