Chapter Ten: The Frenzied Absorption of the Undead

Early the next morning, Qin Yang awoke slowly, taking a deep breath and immediately feeling refreshed and clear-minded. He was about to get up to wash when the voice of Hell echoed again in his mind: "Spiritual energy detected. Absorb?"

"Hmm?" Qin Yang was startled. Spiritual energy? Where could it be coming from here? Yesterday, the jade pendant alone had yielded considerable spiritual energy—where else could there be any now?

He looked around but saw nothing unusual. Only when his gaze fell upon the jade pendant did his heart leap. Quickly picking it up, he immediately sensed a familiar current gathering in his mind, and the voice from Hell sounded once more: "You have gained twenty soul points."

"So it really is the jade pendant?" Qin Yang was overjoyed. "Could it be that this pendant can endlessly replenish spiritual energy? If that's true, it's like carrying a treasure trove of soul points with me at all times!"

"It's worth observing," the steward commented. "It should be a regenerative treasure—the longer it's allowed to accumulate, the more spiritual energy it contains. If nothing unexpected happens, don't rush to absorb it all at once. Absorb twenty points a day, and after ten days there should be more than two hundred points."

"Alright." Though startled by the steward’s sudden appearance, Qin Yang’s good mood was impossible to hide; he was elated. Having absorbed a hundred soul points yesterday, he had a total of one hundred and five. After deducting the thirty points for Yang Rui and adding the twenty today, he now had ninety-five soul points—enough to find evidence of Liu Fatty’s crimes. The thought filled him with excitement.

He jumped out of bed, hurriedly changed into fresh clothes, and left his apartment complex. Stopping at a breakfast stall, he ate seven pounds of fried dough sticks and drank three bowls of soy milk, leaving behind a crowd of astonished onlookers as he made his way to Longshan Community, the address Yang Yaxin had given him yesterday. When he found Yang Yaxin’s house, he couldn’t help but click his tongue. An independent villa—she really did come from a wealthy family.

He rang the doorbell. Soon, Yang Yaxin answered in home clothes, momentarily stunned to see him, then ushered him inside. Qin Yang suppressed the urge to activate his Yin-Yang Eyes to sneak a look at her figure, and instead strolled in. Not seeing Gao Xiaolan, he glanced questioningly at Yang Yaxin, who whispered, "She’s still asleep. She cried again last night. Please, have a seat."

Yang Yaxin poured him a cup of hot coffee and sat down with a glass of water herself. "Xiaolan and Xiaowu attend the same school. Xiaowu has already arranged a two-week leave for her. But I worry that Xiaolan won’t recover from her father’s shadow in just two weeks—she never even saw him one last time before the forced cremation."

Qin Yang scratched his head. "We’ll just have to try."

They talked at length, mostly about Gao Xiaolan’s situation. After nine o’clock, Gao Xiaolan emerged from her room, dressed in clean white clothes, tear stains still on her face and her eyes red and weary. Only upon seeing Qin Yang did a trace of color return to her cheeks. Yang Yaxin had prepared a generous breakfast, but Gao Xiaolan had no appetite, barely forcing down a few bites before declaring herself full. Qin Yang smiled wryly, stood, and said, "I’ll go with you to your home and help you pack up your things. We’ll also lay your father to rest."

"Okay," Gao Xiaolan replied softly.

Yang Yaxin got up, grabbed her coat, and said, "I’ll go too—maybe I can help. Besides, you don’t have a car, and taxis are a hassle. Do you know how to drive?"

"Much better than Qin Wu," Qin Yang muttered, lips twitching faintly.

His driving skills were decent—born into privilege, he’d been around luxury cars since childhood. Though not a professional racer, he was among the top amateur drivers. He still remembered that the last accident had been due to failed brakes, which shouldn’t have happened unless someone had tampered with his car—an intentional act.

Suppressing these thoughts, he followed Gao Jinfai’s memories and drove them to Gao Xiaolan’s home, which was close to the Golden Sail Shipyard and near her school. The environment was pleasant. Gao Jinfai had rented the place so his daughter could study in peace, but now, with the lease almost up, he was gone.

The apartment was simply furnished. The landlord, who had heard about Gao Xiaolan’s situation, was inspecting the place. He didn’t ask questions. Once satisfied that the furniture was all there, he handed six thousand yuan to Gao Xiaolan, advising her to take care of herself. After some words of thanks, Qin Yang led the two women away, heading directly to a cemetery. After negotiating, they chose a well-situated plot for sixty thousand yuan, which Qin Yang paid by card.

"Brother Qin Yang, you can’t use your money," Gao Xiaolan protested, stopping him. "There’s money in my father’s bank account. I’ll pay for it myself."

"Don’t be silly." Qin Yang smiled. "Keep your money for yourself. I’ll take care of this."

Standing beside them, Yang Yaxin took out her own card. "Let’s split it—I’ll pay half, Qin Yang will pay half. Xiaolan, save your money. If you really feel uncomfortable about it, pay us back when you start working."

Qin Yang looked at Yang Yaxin in surprise. He was willing to pay for Gao Xiaolan’s sake—a sense of kindred suffering made him want to look after her now that he was no longer an orphan himself. Seeing Yang Yaxin’s resolute manner, he simply let her pay half as well.

With Gao Jinfai having no real relatives in the city, and Gao Xiaolan not notifying any friends, the burial was quiet. Afterward, Gao Xiaolan knelt before the gravestone and whispered, "Dad, I’ll be fine, really. You don’t have to worry. Brother Qin Yang and Sister Yang are very good to me. Rest well in heaven."

Yang Yaxin stood by, comforting her in a low voice. Qin Yang, meanwhile, squatted beside them, his eyes as black as onyx. Across the vast cemetery, black soul threads rose from every gravestone, swarming into him as if drawn by a great force.

Anyone who could see what he saw would be stunned—the sky was filled with black spirits, all rushing into him. Deep in his mind, Hell blazed with dazzling light, and Qin Yang, as if summoned, closed his eyes and found himself before the palace of Hell.

The palace was now even grander and more imposing, visibly changed since before. The steward, too, seemed more ethereal than ever. Qin Yang quickly asked, "How many did I absorb this time?"

"Ninety-five," the steward replied calmly. "Because you must fulfill Gao Jinfai’s last wish, I have reserved five more spirit absorption slots for you, so you can find lost souls related to his death and seek evidence."

Hearing this, Qin Yang breathed a sigh of relief. He’d suddenly remembered that he could only absorb a hundred souls a day—if he exceeded that, Gao Jinfai’s evidence would have to wait until tomorrow, which would hinder his efforts to help Gao Xiaolan. Fortunately, the steward was thoughtful.

The steward continued, "There are twenty-three hundred souls stored here. Remember this place—you can come by whenever you need."

When he returned from Hell and opened his eyes, he was met by two pairs of large, unblinking, beautiful eyes.

His heart skipped a beat—he had to admit, the girls’ eyes were truly lovely. In Yang Yaxin’s gaze, there was a gentle elegance; in Gao Xiaolan’s, a sorrow so deep it could break your heart. He coughed, startling both girls back a step or two. Yang Yaxin’s cheeks flushed red as she quickly said, "Let’s go. Xiaolan needs to rest."

Qin Yang scratched his head. Yang Yaxin, eager to break the awkwardness, hurried ahead, while behind her, Gao Xiaolan murmured, "Brother Qin Yang, your eyes are so beautiful."

Hearing someone call his eyes beautiful for the second time, Qin Yang couldn’t help feeling a bit proud.

Yang Yaxin, overhearing their exchange, glanced back curiously. Qin Yang’s eyes truly were unusual—most people’s irises were dark brown, but his were pure black, like embedded onyx, their depths impossible to discern. Seeing such strange and beautiful eyes again, Yang Yaxin was intrigued.

"I was born this way," Qin Yang replied with a smile. "Alright, Xiaolan, you go home with Sister Yang. I have something to take care of."

"When will you come back? Can I come with you?" Gao Xiaolan grabbed his arm, asking softly.

Qin Yang thought for a moment and declined. He was off to gather evidence against Liu Fatty—better not to bring her along, lest she be reminded of painful memories. "Be good, Xiaolan. When I’m done, I’ll come get you. It’s not convenient right now."

"What for?" Yang Yaxin, hearing this, quickly turned to pull Gao Xiaolan back. "You want to take her away? Xiaolan’s still a girl—how could she live with you? My place is close to the school, and with Xiaowu she’ll be safe from bullying."

Qin Yang scratched his head, while Gao Xiaolan looked at him, then at Yang Yaxin, and whispered, "But Sister Yang, I want to be with Brother Qin Yang."

"This..." Yang Yaxin was helpless—she couldn’t force someone to stay in her home.

Qin Yang considered that he now regarded Gao Xiaolan as his own little sister, feeling both duty and responsibility to care for her. He was a bit embarrassed to trouble Yang Yaxin, but realized she cared for Gao Xiaolan as much as he did. It was indeed inconvenient for a young woman to live with him, but seeing her pitiful face, he said nothing, and led the two out of the cemetery. After a busy day, it was nearly evening when they were about to leave and suddenly spotted two furtive figures approaching.

Curious, Qin Yang stood to the side, lighting a cigarette and posing as a grieving family member.

The two men made their way to Gao Jinfai’s grave, knelt, and began burning paper offerings, muttering things Qin Yang strained to hear. Looking closer, he recognized them as Gao Jinfai’s friends—Zhao Xiao and Wang Ming—who had been quite close to him in life. Sensing guilt, Qin Yang approached and heard Zhao Xiao saying, "Brother Gao, we know you were wronged, but there’s nothing we can do. We’d like to bring down Liu Fatty too, but we have no evidence. Even if we say you were killed by him, no one would believe us. Everyone at the factory who’s heard the rumors has taken Liu Fatty’s hush money. Us too. If we didn’t, we’d be accused of forming factions. We were forced. We brought you some paper money today—please be well in heaven."

"Brother Gao, Zhao Xiao’s said it all. Don’t blame us—life in this world is beyond our control," Wang Ming whispered.

"Yes, life in this world is beyond our control," Qin Yang sneered, squatting down and pressing both hands on their shoulders, an overwhelming force pinning them so they couldn’t rise.

"Who—who are you?" Zhao Xiao stammered in terror.

"Less nonsense. Who else knows about Liu Fatty’s crimes?" Qin Yang asked coldly. "If you don’t tell me, I’ll send you down to play cards with Gao Jinfai."

"No one knows now—all those who did have had accidents. Us..." Zhao Xiao wailed.

Qin Yang curled his lip. That meant the witnesses were all dead. If any were alive, it would be harder to collect evidence. He said coldly, "Dead or alive, tell me who they are and where to find them. If they’re dead, tell me where they’re buried."

"We don’t know..." Wang Ming stammered.

Suddenly, he felt as if his neck were caught in a massive iron clamp, ready to snap at any moment. Terrified, he blurted, "I’ll tell, I’ll tell!"

"Speak," Qin Yang said indifferently.

"There was a man named Liu Qishan—he knew. But he’s dead."

"Where is he buried?" Qin Yang asked.

"The Southern District Funeral Home."

"Very good."

Releasing them, Qin Yang stood and stretched. "Don’t tell anyone you saw me here, understood? I know everything about you—Wang Ming and Zhao Xiao, both with two children in the same school."

"Yes, yes," they stammered, nodding frantically.

Only then did Qin Yang leave, hailing a cab straight to the funeral home. By the time he arrived at the Southern District Funeral Home, dusk was falling. The entire place looked grim and terrifying, colder even than outside. Warm currents from the Taiji Yin-Yang Jade Pendant pushed away the chilly aura around him. Fixing his gaze, a cool sensation swept through his eyes, and his vision became eerily clear—he could faintly see rows upon rows of black souls, countless in number.