The orange candy was sweet and fragrant. Hearing Su Chenzhu's words, Chao Musheng couldn’t help but laugh. "Mr. Su, I know you’re more inclined to defend your employees, but..."
But what kind of sensible person would pick a fight with a small animal?
"It was a pitiful little thing. When I fished it out of the water, its body was covered in wounds, and its eyes were so swollen it couldn’t even open them." The winter was bitterly cold. When Chao Musheng saw it floating on the water’s surface, he thought it was already dead. He planned to fish it out and bury it somewhere to avoid polluting the water.
But the moment he lifted it from the water, its tiny paw twitched.
He had never seen an animal in such a wretched state—its flesh was rotting, bloated and pale from soaking, its fur almost entirely torn off, and two bloody holes gaped on its belly. It was so small and mangled that he couldn’t even tell if it was a cat or a dog.
His classmates speculated that some animal-abusing psychopath had done this to it, and even if it was still breathing, it wouldn’t survive for long.
But then Chao Musheng saw its bloodied claws hook weakly into his sweater.
He felt like it didn’t want to die.
So he cut short the class picnic that day and rushed the little creature to a veterinary hospital.
"At the time, my parents had heard rumors about kids in our neighborhood using their allowance for illegal activities, so I didn’t have enough money. The funds for its treatment had to be secretly borrowed from my grandparents." Chao Musheng recalled those days of visiting the animal hospital daily. "The vet said it refused to eat, but whenever I visited, it would obediently finish its nutritional meals."
"It was ugly, but so well-behaved." Chao Musheng looked down at the dark furball curled in his arms. "But it disappeared while I was away for a competition."
Su Chenzhu studied him. "Do you feel disappointed in it?"
Chao Musheng shook his head. "When it left, its eyes still hadn’t healed. Out there, other cats and dogs would bully it."
"It was so small, barely any fur left, and the winter was so harsh." His lashes lowered, voice thick with regret. "If only I’d had more time to stay with it, maybe it wouldn’t have sneaked out of the hospital."
"Without you, it would have died long ago." Su Chenzhu’s voice was low in the darkness. "Chao Chao, you already did more than enough."
"Maybe you weren’t the first to see it floating in the water. Everyone else found it filthy and revolting. But you were the one who saved it when it had lost all hope in this world." Su Chenzhu gazed at a dim red lantern in the distance, removing his silver-chained glasses with a soft chuckle. "If that dirty, broken little thing was the world’s final test for humanity, then you didn’t just save it—you saved the world."
Mr. Su was really going all out to comfort him.
Chao Musheng nodded half-heartedly. "Right, right. Maybe that poor creature fought evil forces for three days and nights to save the world. In the end, it appeared before humans in its most pitiful state. If someone chose to rescue it, the world would get a second chance. If no one did, it would perish along with everything else."
Who knew Su Chenzhu would keep spinning this absurd tale with a straight face? "Perhaps not three days, but much longer—so long it lost its consciousness and could only appear in the form of an animal to human eyes."
"Mr. Su, if you keep this up, I’ll start believing I’m some kind of savior." Chao Musheng laughed. It was impressive how someone as serious as Su Chenzhu could fabricate such an outrageous story. "If only it really were some kind of spirit or monster. At least then it’d still be alive somewhere."
The winters in Jing City were merciless. How could it have survived?
"Maybe before that psychopath got to it, it already had a loving owner." Chao Musheng glanced at the glasses in Su Chenzhu’s hand. "Maybe it’s reunited with them now, safe and cared for."
There were no gods, no demons, no saviors. That ugly little thing had lost its tail and its sight. He just hoped it was still alive.
Su Chenzhu let out a quiet laugh.
"Chao Chao, you’re right." His eyes gleamed like liquid gold.
He knew how long Chao Musheng had searched for it that winter—how the animal hospital’s doors had stayed plastered with missing posters. But he’d had no choice but to leave.
"Though I still don’t know if it was a cat or a dog." Chao Musheng sighed. "It was so scruffy back then. I hope its owner didn’t mind when they found it again."
The curve of Su Chenzhu’s lips froze. He looked down at the inky ball of fur nuzzling in Chao Musheng’s arms and flicked its forehead.
"Meow!"
How dare you, insolent servant!
"If either of you slacks off tonight, you’re fired!" The housekeeper led You Jiu and Little He outside the wooden building. "At the slightest disturbance, contact me immediately. And don’t let anyone inside."
"Sir," Little He pointed at two men carrying a large crate behind the housekeeper, "what about them?"
"Are you brain-dead?!" the housekeeper snapped. "They’re with me. Of course they’re allowed in!"
Little He muttered, "But you said no one..."
Watching the housekeeper’s face turn pale with rage, You Jiu silently looked away.
His intolerance for stupidity was justified.
The housekeeper and the two helpers remained inside for about half an hour before emerging—without the crate.
"Stay alert. I’ll inspect at midnight. If either of you is missing, you’ll regret it." With a final glare, the housekeeper strode off.
You Jiu and Little He exchanged glances. The latter pulled out a newspaper, tore it in half, and handed a piece to You Jiu. "The steps are dusty. Sit on this so your pants don’t get dirty."
You Jiu: "..."
By tomorrow night, the mission would be over, and he’d be gone. Who cared about clean pants?
"Thanks." He took the scrap. "We’ll watch opposite sides."
"Deal." Little He agreed instantly. Even if they couldn’t take shifts, staying apart gave him a chance to sneak inside.
At 1 a.m., the housekeeper returned, satisfied to find them stationed dutifully below the building before leaving to sleep.
You Jiu glanced back at Little He’s turned back. Concealing himself with a lifelike puppet, he activated his Dragon’s Claw grappling tool and scaled to the second floor.
The right side held an ordinary room. The left opened into a vast chamber with three memorial tablets—all bearing female names.
Talismans and octagonal mirrors lined the walls. The air reeked of mildew, sealed tight by closed windows.
Dust coated the altar so thickly that You Jiu’s fingertip came away filthy.
He studied the tablets—black with faded gold lettering and tattered red cloth. Strangely, there were no incense burners or offerings.
The Chens were so superstitious, yet they didn’t even honor their ancestors?
He couldn’t shake off a strange feeling and leaned in for a closer look. Only then did he notice that the name, meticulously traced in gold paint, was outlined with a thin border of red cinnabar. But the room was too dimly lit, making it nearly impossible to spot unless one got close.
Beneath the three ancestral tablets, iron chains secured them firmly to the altar. Summoning his courage, You Jiu reached out and gave them a shake—the tablets didn’t budge an inch.
The tablets were icy cold. You Jiu quickly withdrew his hand and turned to head for the third floor.
The third floor had only one room, its door tightly locked. Instead of forcing the main entrance, he used a tool to pry open the window and climbed inside like an upside-down bat.
Thud.
He landed on the ground—or rather, on a bed. The impact didn’t hurt, but the faint sound of breathing in the room made him freeze. There was someone else on the bed.
He rolled off swiftly and realized the person lying there was none other than the second young master of the Chen family, Chen Fang. Dressed in a white robe, his forehead adorned with strange red markings, he lay stiffly in the center of the bed, clearly not in a natural state of sleep.
You Jiu recalled the wooden crate the butler had ordered to be carried in earlier. He searched the room and found it in a corner—empty, as expected.
So, the crate had contained Chen Fang.
Surveying the eerie statues and paintings around him, You Jiu felt a pang of pity for the unconscious young master. Old Master Chen had turned his own grandson into a sacrificial offering to summon some malevolent deity.
So, the secret of the Chen estate was this: the patriarch was trading his blood relatives to a dark god in exchange for his own desires.
Beneath the lavish façade of artificial hills and ornamental ponds, the Chen estate hid the ugliest of cravings.
Just as You Jiu prepared to leave, noises came from outside. He had no choice but to hide under the bed.
Something dug into his stomach as he lay there. He reached for it and found an unremarkable bronze mirror—no, a plastic imitation. There seemed to be something inside it.
A listening device?
He didn’t have time to dwell on it. The intruders had already entered.
They quickly noticed Chen Fang on the bed.
"Reporting to HQ, we’ve found an unconscious individual in the room. Preliminary identification suggests it’s Chen Fang, a descendant of the Chen family. Vital signs are present, but no responsive awareness."
That voice—was that… Little He?
You Jiu was stunned. The seemingly naive Little He was communicating with someone. Was he working for a rival of the Chens, or was he a spy among the guests?
"Team Leader, I can’t evacuate the victim alone. Requesting backup."
Team Leader?
Victim?
A chill ran down You Jiu’s spine. Was Little He… a cop?
Since when did police undercover agents exist in supernatural scenarios? What kind of bizarre twist was this?
What was the System Master thinking?
"Team Leader, we don’t have enough evidence, nor do we have a search warrant approved by higher-ups. We can’t just storm a place like the Chen estate," a colleague responded anxiously to Little He’s request. "But if we don’t act now, Little He’s cover could be blown."
For an influential family like the Chens, dealing with a lone operative like Little He would be effortless.
"In this situation, we’ll have to call for external assistance."
"What kind of assistance?"
"Someone with more authority than the Chens."
Chao Musheng had just finished chatting with Su Chenzhu when his phone rang. The caller ID showed it was from a certain district bureau in the capital.
He hadn’t saved the number—the carrier had auto-labeled it.
"Apologies for disturbing you so late, Mr. Chao Musheng."
Su Chenzhu, who had been heading to the door, paused and turned back. "Chao Chao, what’s going on?"
"We sincerely request your assistance, Mr. Chao," the officer on the line said, carefully weighing how to persuade him.
"Sure," Chao Musheng replied without hesitation. "What do you need?"
The team leader and his colleague fell silent for a second at his immediate agreement.
"Mr. Chao, thank you so much."
After hanging up, Chao Musheng turned to Su Chenzhu. "Mr. Su, have you heard of the fox who borrows the tiger’s might?"
Right now, he needed to be that fox—and Su Chenzhu was the tiger lending him his golden thigh.
