Chapter 145: Silent Words

That night was far from peaceful.

The Fourth Branch, the Seventh Branch, the Bunraku troupe, even the police—the entire Lower Kyoto District was in chaos. Countless people lay awake in the howling wind.

Ji Li deliberately circled around the outskirts a few times, then drove the car into the river. After abandoning it, he hailed a taxi to the address Fang Shenyan had given him.

264 Deer Park Street—a villa

When Ji Li arrived at the gate of the detached house, a trace of surprise crossed his face.

From their first encounter, both Akira and the whole Bunraku troupe had seemed like nothing more than struggling artists, clinging to the promotion of traditional Japanese theater.

They really shouldn’t have been this wealthy.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t be handing out flyers in the freezing night just to sell a few tickets.

But the truth was right in front of them.

Chi Rou clicked her tongue quietly, muttering:

“Hard to believe… if they’re so well-off, why insist on acting?”

Ji Li shook his head. “Maybe because they really like it…”

But the reason didn’t feel convincing. More likely, they had underestimated the troupe.

“Let’s hear what Miss Akira has to say.”

When Ji Li led Mei Sheng and Chi Rou into the brightly lit villa, they found several men smoking in silence, as well as Akira, makeup removed, and Ko Chiduye sitting dazed and alone.

“What’s going on?”

Seeing the low spirits, Ji Li assumed they had either gotten something useful—or something grim.

But when Cui Yanqing turned to him, he only gave a perfunctory smile.

“We tried everything, but Akira hasn’t revealed anything of value. Instead, we reached an unpleasant conclusion.”

“What conclusion?”

Cui looked hesitant, as if unwilling to say.

Finally, Fang Shenyan, who had been standing with his back to Ji Li, slowly turned around. And in that instant—

Ji Li caught the faintest flicker in his eyes.

It was hard to imagine: two people who knew each other so well, yet at that moment, they felt like strangers.

Ji Li thought it might be another change in his own vision, but quickly realized Fang wasn’t just looking at him—

He was looking at Chi Rou, and at Mei Sheng too.

Their appearance together seemed to trigger something in Fang’s mind.

But the moment of disorientation passed in a flash. No one noticed—except Ji Li.

Fang casually pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with practiced ease, as though to cover it up.

“This was the Bunraku troupe’s last performance. From now on, they’ll have no connection with each other, no way of contact.” He took a drag, then added: “Which means—we’ll never find those puppeteers again.”

Ji Li’s brow furrowed at once.

There was something off about this troupe, something they were hiding.

So poor, yet Akira lived in a villa.

Six people in total—including the musicians and Akira—yet supposedly none of them had a way to contact each other?

“Then how did they perform together?” Ji Li pressed.

Even the unconscious Akira was enough proof her words held weight.

“On the first Saturday of every month, they met at Sunset Bridge to perform. Aside from that, no contact at all.”

This time it was Cui Yanqing who answered in Fang’s stead.

Ji Li asked again: “What role did Akira play in the troupe?”

“She connected them. Handed out flyers. Nothing more.”

Ji Li nodded, finding a seat and lighting a cigarette for himself.

Cui stroked his chin, muttering absentmindedly: “So what we really need to investigate are still those four core members.”

Everyone understood.

To create a proper puppet, they needed to know what it truly was, how it was made.

The only way was to track down that group—by any means necessary.

But as soon as Cui finished speaking, Ji Li’s hand trembled slightly on his cigarette. Slowly, he lifted his head and fixed him with a sharp gaze.

The air froze. Cui, seeing Ji Li’s unfathomable look, grew flustered. He had always harbored a natural fear of Ji Li.

After all, he had already placed himself in the role of a betrayer, one whose purpose was to divide the team.

“W–what is it?”

Ji Li’s eyes swept across everyone—Cui Yanqing, Chi Rou, Gao Liangping, Ko Chiduye, even Mei Sheng. All thought Cui’s words were harmless.

But in Fang Shenyan’s face, Ji Li found a strange, silent sense of belonging.

Because in his eyes too was the same shock, astonishment, and dread as Ji Li’s!

“The four people… which four?”

Ji Li cautiously asked the question, because in his memory, something about them didn’t quite match.

“Isn’t it just the three puppeteers plus the musician…”

Cui Yanqing was dumbfounded now. Seeing Ji Li and Fang Shenyan’s strange expressions, he searched desperately for the same reaction on Chi Rou and the others.

At last Fang Shenyan realized what was wrong. His brows drew tight, he met Ji Li’s eyes, and gave a heavy nod.

“What I saw on stage… was four puppeteers!!!”

Ji Li finally revealed the shocking truth, leaving the gathered staffs stunned in place.

Even the third persona fell silent in his mind—the whole matter was far too eerie.

As it stood, aside from Ji Li and Fang Shenyan, everyone else who had watched the Bunraku play earlier swore there had only been three puppeteers on stage.

Cui Yanqing and the others had even seen them standing in a perfect triangle. But what Ji Li and Fang Shenyan saw was two people aligned vertically, one above the other — like a vertical version of the Chinese character 二.

Because no one had ever imagined anything supernatural would manifest in the number of puppeteers, no one had thought to compare what they saw.

Even during Akira’s interrogation, Fang Shenyan and the others had only asked about the troupe itself. Akira, being on the fringe of the group, never mentioned anything unusual about the numbers.

Yet the truth wasn’t so hard to grasp.

Fang Shenyan’s Ghost Eye, and the subtle influence of the gray soul within Ji Li—what they saw, that extra puppeteer, should have been the embodiment of a ghost.

But why hadn’t the Ghost Eye given any clear warning? Why hadn’t Ji Li’s left pinky, sensitive to spiritual energy, reacted at all?

That was the real puzzle.

Perhaps… the ghost in this task was of an entirely different kind.

“Th-this…” Chi Rou was consumed with dread. She stumbled back, pressing herself to the wall.

The staffs all fell silent, the air growing unbearably heavy.

And while everyone’s focus lingered on that disbanded performance, Fang Shenyan let his gaze slide casually across Mei Sheng and Chi Rou…

Before finally settling on Ji Li.

In the black depths of his pupils, there seemed to flicker the faint outline of something—

yet he chose not to speak it aloud…