Chapter 141
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Chapter 141: Title
"Indeed, senior shares the same perception as I," Leng Xingwen smiled, rotating his fan handle thoughtfully.
The Ghost in Red inclined her head slightly. "Ghosts inhabit their shadowed domains while deities dwell in Sacred Domains. This entire area lies under its dominion. That fugitive’s ability to escape and possess a squirrel stems directly from his unique Awakened Powers."
"Had it been me during my initial death – when my spirit lingered in confusion – I would never have managed to depart."
Young Master Leng’s fan paused mid-twirl. "What does red-clad senior make of the vanished souls? Could rebirth still await them?"
"Even reincarnated, they’d cease to be their former selves." Her voice carried glacial detachment. "Though Kabatu deity remains but a feeble totem deity, divinity it retains. Souls dissipated within a deity’s realm sever all ties to their mortal existence, regardless of rebirth possibilities."
A practitioner of communicating with the gods had gleaned crucial intelligence from underworld spirits: Zhongxia citizens registered in the Book of Life and Death would first be claimed by local death realms when perishing abroad, before eventual delivery to their native underworld for reincarnation. Foreigners dying within Zhongxia received equivalent treatment.
This revelation left living observers stunned – since when had death bureaucracies shown such consideration? No immediate nationality alterations for wandering spirits, but proper jurisdictional transfers instead.
Yet crucial caveats emerged. Determining a soul’s origin required access to the cosmic registry itself – the Book of Life and Death now humorously likened to an immense database tracking all living beings’ vital data. Online wits speculated about its networked infrastructure enabling cross-regional access.
Exceptions inevitably existed. Deaths involving deities or supernatural events bypassed local underworld authority entirely. As for souls rejected by all death realms? The spirit-communicating cultivator found no answers, the underworld denizens growing tight-lipped and uneasy when pressed.
"Young Master Leng?" Yang Xingyu’s curious interjection broke the silence. The youth watched expectantly, hoping for elucidation. Both he and Qiao Feiyu knew the Ghost in Red pursued some hidden agenda, yet none dared question her directly.
The crimson specter had maintained her characteristic detachment since joining the Special Bureau, initially cooperating only through Bai Ye’s persuasion and the organization’s desperate need. Now that the Bureau stood robust compared to its fledgling days, she’d withdrawn completely – engaging only when Bai Ye personally requested aid.
What puzzled observers most was Young Master Leng’s peculiar demeanor around her – not quite familial reverence, but the tentative respect one might show a legendary figure finally encountered. Logically, any connection should exist between the Ghost and Leng’s elders, yet the young noble addressed her with curious familiarity.
Previous inquiries yielded only cryptic smiles and deflections about "unrevealable secrets."
After prolonged silence stretching between them, the Ghost in Red finally spoke: "Very well."
Relief flooded Leng Xingwen’s features. "This junior is honored by senior’s trust. I shall accompany you presently."
Yang Xingyu’s jaw dropped. Since when did the ever-formal Young Master Leng abandon his honorifics to use casual pronouns? What clandestine operation required such uncharacteristic behavior?
Qiao Feiyu and Captain Yuan followed a totem warrior to the prisoners’ enclosure. Qiao Feiyu glanced at their escort and made a discreet gesture requesting privacy. The warrior studied them briefly before retreating to a distance.
Two captives stirred in their cages as they approached. A brown-haired Westerner pressed against the bars with visible eagerness, his blue eyes alight, while a hulking figure in the adjacent cage remained hunched beneath a thick beard.
"Greetings! I’m Anderl," the animated prisoner addressed them in English. "Are you from Zhongxia?"
Captain Yuan completed his visual assessment before responding. "We are. What’s your origin?"
Though disheveled, the man’s military bearing showed through his grime-streaked clothing. His controlled excitement suggested exceptional composure despite days of captivity. Captain Yuan’s question hung pointedly in the air.
Anderl’s jaw tightened before he confessed: "American Special Operations Division. My team was investigating the Kabatu deity’s existence." His voice dropped. "I’m the last survivor – the others became sacrifices."
Captain Yuan maintained his impassive silence.
"Let’s trade information," Anderl pressed urgently. "You’re their guests – you can extract me, yes?" His whisper carried desperate hope.
The captain’s attention shifted to Qiao Feiyu, whose vacant stare suggested mental absence. Captain Yuan’s temple pulsed – their rushed departure’s consequences manifesting in this lack of support staff. At least the negotiated second audience with the priest offered partial remedy.
"State your knowledge," Captain Yuan finally demanded.
Meanwhile, the bearded captive observed quietly. Where Anderl’s official credentials might secure rescue, his own criminal background offered less leverage. Survival now depended on finding the right bargaining chip before the next sacrificial selection.
Anderl moistened dry lips. "This requires absolute secrecy – I’ll swear by cosmic law. The intel’s explosive. Should I lie, condemn me to the Eighteen Floors of Hell." The invocation carried weight in this era of awakened spiritual forces, where oaths to major deities manifested consequences.
Captain Yuan’s eyes narrowed. The emphasis on privacy suggested listeners beyond human perception.
"Feiyu."
The younger man startled back to awareness. "Captain?"
"Fetch Young Master Leng. Discreetly."
As Qiao Feiyu departed, Leng Xingwen noted his approach mid-conversation with Yang Xingyu. "Trouble approaches," he remarked.
Yang Xingyu frowned at the solitary figure. "Odd. Old Qiao shouldn’t be separated from the captain."
"Captain Yuan requests your presence," Qiao Feiyu announced with a formal bow.
Leng Xingwen turned to the crimson apparition beside them. "Red-clad Senior, would you permit Xingyu’s company during my absence?"
The Ghost in Red’s silent pivot toward Yang Xingyu made the young man stammer: "H-how might I entertain you, Senior?"
Her dismissive glance left Yang Xingyu flushed with embarrassment.
