Chapter 146: The Eavesdropping Ghost

Akira, that pitiful woman, had never imagined that a mere Bunraku performance would spiral into something like this.

When those three men first broke into her home, she thought they were just wealthy patrons who had thrown money around days before.

But the moment Cui Yanqing pulled out a knife, her beauty drained into terror.

By midnight, Akira still hadn’t regained consciousness. On the brink of mental collapse, fainting was the only self-protection left to her.

She was innocent, yet forced into the hotel’s task. Perhaps her fate had been sealed from the very beginning.

Fortunately, for now, no one’s hostility was aimed at her anymore.

While everyone else brooded in silence, their brows knotted, even doubting the road ahead—Fang Shenyan finally approached Ji Li.

Some things could not be left unsaid.

Foremost was what Fang Shenyan had seen…

By this point, no one else paid them attention. The mission had barely begun, and much of the situation still depended on these two to hold together.

But whatever had to be discussed could only unfold after daybreak.

Fang Shenyan handed Ji Li a cigarette, slipping him a subtle look. There was much he needed to say.

Ji Li didn’t fully understand, but he read the signal. Side by side, they stepped out into the street.

The first light of dawn pierced the horizon, spilling a thin glow into the forest of buildings.

The street lay in absolute stillness; only then did they realize the snow had stopped long ago.

Ji Li pulled his coat tighter, a strand of hair caught against his collar. He exhaled a plume of white vapor.

Smoke—it stung his nose.

“Go on. What did you see?”

Fang Shenyan said nothing at first. He only turned his left palm upward—there sat an eye.

And that eye kept darting restlessly, the longest it fixed was squarely on Ji Li beside him!

Ji Li frowned. He had expected Fang Shenyan to mention the mismatch in the puppeteers’ number.

But instead, he revealed his Ghost Eye—moving on its own?

Ji Li shot him a sidelong glance, his heart filled with questions he chose not to voice.

Because he knew—Fang Shenyan had deliberately sought him out alone, in silence. It meant he had uncovered something… something too dangerous to speak aloud.

Fang Shenyan gave a slight smile, his eyes narrowing, watching a snow-laden leaf tumble through the air.

But his absent look betrayed it—he was truly watching the vision the Ghost Eye was showing him.

He pulled out his phone and typed swiftly into a memo.

When Ji Li read the line, his pupils widened in an instant.

On your shoulder, and on Mei Sheng’s and Chi Rou’s, there sits a small blue ghost!

Ji Li had felt nothing—but reading it, his gaze instinctively slid toward his right shoulder…

It was empty.

Yet in Fang Shenyan’s silent eyes, Ji Li’s shoulder bore the crouched form of a small, naked child covered in blue.

Its head leaned faintly toward Ji Li’s lips, one tiny hand cupped against its ear—listening, every moment, to every word Ji Li spoke!

In truth, to call it a child was generous. It resembled more a newborn infant, its organs blurred and unfinished.

Only the ears were perfectly formed. Every breath Ji Li exhaled, the ghost drank in whole.

And where those whispers carried… was anyone’s guess.

Nor was Ji Li alone. If one followed Fang Shenyan’s gaze through the villa’s wall into the living room—

There sat Chi Rou, curled into the corner of the sofa. On her shoulder perched the same Eavesdropping Ghost, devouring her anxious murmurs, even the snores of Gao Liangping nearby.

By the window stood Mei Sheng, her hands hidden in her sleeves, her face clouded with an unfamiliar emotion.

Fear. And disgust.

And it was obvious—her disgust was for her own hands.

Whether she loathed them, or something else entirely—none could know.

But every inch of her breath was already being taken in by the ghost on her shoulder.

Huuhhh…

A gust of wind stirred, scattering the untouched snow before the villa, sending flakes into the air.

It stung Ji Li’s eyes. He lowered his head, no longer dwelling on the ghost he could not see, only staring at his left pinky finger.

That finger… was not like the others.

From past encounters, he knew: at times it trembled uncontrollably, warning of strong supernatural presence around him.

Only… it did not always work.

For example, at this very moment—if not for Fang Shenyan’s Ghost Eye, Ji Li would never have guessed that a ghost was clinging to him.

As for how it came to be, he hardly needed to think.

This was the final stroke of Xue Tinghai’s three-pronged scheme.

Using Tomiko’s death to plant Eavesdropping Ghosts on Ji Li and the others, ensuring every move they made could be overheard.

So long as the staffs stayed together, the Fourth Branch would know their every action.

And regarding this ghost…

Ji Li had no way to deal with it.

He could only watch helplessly, with no power to drive it away.

The Seventh Branch had only a single Sin Artifact, in Fang Shenyan’s hands—and even that was merely functional in nature.

Fortunately, Fang Shenyan had deliberately concealed the Ghost Eye’s passive effect when reporting on Sin Artifacts in the Seventh Branch.

Otherwise, Ji Li would likely have returned in utter defeat.

When every part of your plan is laid bare to the enemy, failure is inevitable.

Once again, Ji Li felt the sheer power of Sin Artifacts, and how deviously they could be used. Yet he seemed truly unable to wield any himself…

Still, he did not regret it. To rise from death once already was itself akin to holding a heaven-defying Sin Artifact. Though now—he could no longer afford to die, not even once.

By rough calculation: another death would erase his second persona completely.

A second death after that, and the third and fourth personas would be devoured as well.

At that point, Ji Li would also face the total resurrection of the gray soul.

Die a third time, and Ji Li would cease to exist—life, soul, every trace of his being in this world utterly wiped away.

Gray… was too powerful.

Do we need to split up? Fang Shenyan typed again into his memo.

It seemed the only way forward. Otherwise, the Seventh Branch had no chance of turning the tables.

Ji Li looked out over the snowy scene, sighed softly, then pulled a cigarette from his case and lit it.

When the smoke curled away, he stooped to pick up a twig and traced six characters into the snow.

Fang Shenyan read them, nodded thoughtfully.

At last, a boot came down, smearing away the words until nothing remained.

As if it had never happened—save for the snow, marred forever.