Grave tax, ransom debt

The afternoon sunlight spilled over the high walls of Red Sleeve House and onto the passage through the rear courtyard.

Famous courtesans, talented young men, patrons, servants, and maids formed a long procession. Their faces were blank, their limbs stiff as they walked mechanically toward the courtyard's back gate, mumbling Dongju's words over and over.

The scattered, uneven muttering gradually dwindled to a single phrase:

"Buy Sister Hongxiu's freedom!"

Goosebumps rose all over Xu Wenjie at the sight, and he let out a terrified scream.

Zhou Ji and Li Dao had followed Xie An for some time and had encountered Specters to varying degrees, so they largely kept their composure, tightening their grips on their sabers. Sweat, however, streamed down them uncontrollably.

Chen Mo had also drawn her sword. "Young master, what should we do?"

An icy chill likewise settled over Xie An's heart.

Back then, the Grain-Collecting Ghost had said, "Have you paid your grave tax?"

Here, it had become, "Buy Sister Hongxiu's freedom!"

He suppressed his shivers, his gaze gradually turning cold.

Clang!

Xie An drew his saber.

"Don't speak. Follow me—we're fighting our way out!"

Madam Jin stood across the doorway to block them. "Why are you in such a hurry to leave, Young Master Mingxi? Miss Hongxiu will be heartbroken if she finds out..."

"Get out of my way!"

Without another word, Xie An slashed at Madam Jin's neck. With a sudden squelch, her head fell to the ground, and foul-smelling liquid spurted from the severed stump.

Xie An did not spare her a glance as he raced outside.

Beyond the back gate lay a quiet alley, deserted on either side. A gray, withered air of decay still hung around them. The blazing sun was clearly overhead, yet everything felt cold as frost.

Xie An led