In less than half a minute, Zhang Yuanqing came running over, swift and light on his feet, stopping at the entrance of the underpass.
Fu Qingyang signaled with his eyes, and Zhang Yuanqing stepped to the entrance and looked inside. Through the Night Wanderer's darkness-piercing vision, he saw a man in a black hooded sweatshirt slumped against the wall.
There was a finger-thick hole in the man's forehead, blood gurgling out of it.
Zhang Yuanqing examined him closely. Prominent brow bones, narrow eyes, a thin, pointed face—he looked like a thoroughly evil man.
He died so easily. Looks like Unjust Heaven, like Unbridled, was a Voodoo Master at the Transcendent Stage. Darkness churned in Zhang Yuanqing's eyes as he connected with the corpse's lingering spirit.
Then he took out the Demon Subduing Pestle and handed it to Fu Qingyang.
Having made the necessary preparations, Zhang Yuanqing took a deep breath. His spirit body turned into a wisp of "green smoke" and entered his mouth.
Memories that did not belong to him flooded in, and his sea of consciousness abruptly swelled like an inflating balloon.
Images flashed by like a revolving lantern. From fragmented, scattered scraps of memory, Zhang Yuanqing watched the rough course of Unjust Heaven's life.
His father had been a gambling addict, his mother remarried, and he had lived with his grandparents. An unfortunate childhood planted seeds of darkness in his heart, while the setbacks born from having no one to rely on became the fertilizer that let those seeds sprout.
He eventually grew into a radical, violent villain.
Among the shifting scenes, Zhang Yuanqing saw a dim bedroom. Unjust Heaven stood beside a desk, cutting his wrist and letting his blood flow into a bronze bowl.
The bloody liquid boiled in the bowl. A mist of blood