After the ghost-hunting master descended the mountain, his fame spread throughout the capital.

Wang Laizi, inside the house, was startled by the sudden loud noise and commotion in the courtyard, his lewd interest vanishing instantly.

"Who?! Who dares to cause trouble in my mansion?!"

He grabbed his clothes haphazardly and threw them on, shouting at the outside while trying to sound fierce but actually being weak.

In response to him was Jiang Shuangjiang's slowly raised ghostly hand.

She suddenly clenched her fingers as she looked at the brightly lit room.

"call!"

A more violent gust of cold wind rose from the ground, like an invisible giant hand, instantly extinguishing all the candles in the room.

Not only the main house, but the entire mansion, all the lit lanterns and candlesticks went out at the same time.

The entire mansion was instantly plunged into complete darkness, with only the faint moonlight outlining the shadows of the buildings.

"Ah! The light! Why is the light out?!" Wang Laizi's panicked cry came from inside the room, followed by the concubine's short exclamation and then a sudden silence.

She fainted.

In the deathly silence of the darkness, only Chen Youcai's suppressed breathing and the faint, mournful weeping of a woman could be heard in the courtyard.

The cries seemed to come from all directions, as if they were right next to my ears, filled with pain and despair—all the grief and indignation Jiang Shuang had suffered before her death.

The crying pierced Wang Laizi and Chen Youcai's ears like an ice pick piercing their bones, or a venomous snake gnawing at their hearts, making their hair stand on end and their blood almost freeze.

Wang Laizi huddled in the suddenly darkened room, his heart pounding like a drum, cold sweat soaking through the outer garment he had just put on.

The incessant wailing of the woman in the courtyard and Chen Youcai's sobs were like death knells, making his scalp tingle and preventing him from taking a single step out of the room.

"Don't play tricks! I'm not afraid!" he shouted at the door, trying to dispel his fear with his loud voice.

However, his voice trembled so badly that it was broken and hoarse, and even he himself felt he had no confidence.

His response was a sudden, biting chill that pierced through the doors and windows.

Countless pale, phantom hands reached out from the dark ground and suddenly grabbed his ankles.

The cold touch felt so real that it instantly dragged him off the ground and pulled him toward the door without giving him a chance to resist.

"No! Let me go! Help!" Wang Laizi struggled in terror, but was like a flying insect caught in a spider's web.

"Bang!" The door was violently flung open by an invisible force.

Wang Laizi was thrown violently into the courtyard, where he rolled around in a heap with Chen Youcai, who was limp on the ground, defecating and urinating.

Jiang Shuangjiang hovered above them, her red wedding dress billowing wildly without wind, like a spider lily blooming in a land of death.

Her intense resentment manifested as illusions, invading both of their minds.

In Chen Youcai's view, the familiar houses and courtyards around him suddenly changed.

He felt as if he were back at the scene of those forced women.

But this time, the women he had humiliated and even indirectly caused to death were no longer submissive.

They transformed into blue-faced, fanged demons, swarming from all directions and tearing at his flesh with madness.

He could clearly hear the sound of his flesh being torn apart and smell the strong stench of blood.

Meanwhile, his magnificent and luxurious mansion, which he was so proud of, was engulfed in flames, which consumed his carefully collected antiques and paintings.

In the firelight, he vaguely saw his parents, wife, children, brothers and sisters, all of whom were screaming in agony in the sea of ​​fire.

They reached out their hands, not to beg for help, but to point at him simultaneously, uttering the most vicious curses and insults:

"Retribution! It's all retribution! Chen Youcai, you'll die a horrible death! You ruined my whole family!"

In Wang Laizi's mind, the scene transformed into a gloomy courtroom, where countless hideous underworld officials used red-hot irons to scald his flesh and used iron hooks to pull out his intestines.

The judge sitting high in the hall was his wife, whom he had murdered years ago; she was now coldly tossing down her token.

"Wang Laizi! Your evil deeds are beyond redemption! You are sentenced to be cast into the eighteenth level of hell, to be subjected to mountains of knives and seas of fire, to have your heart ripped out of a cauldron of boiling oil, and never to be reincarnated!"

In the illusion, the two experienced their most terrifying torments, their minds nearly collapsing, tears streaming down their faces, displaying all sorts of ugly behavior, and repeatedly banging their heads on the ground until their foreheads were bloody and mangled.

"Ah! No! Forgive me! I know I was wrong! I really know I was wrong!"

"Help me! Mother! Father! Help! Ghosts! They're all ghosts!"

Jiang Shuangjiang watched her enemy struggle in the fear she had created, her hatred boiling to its peak, yet also feeling empty and numb.

She slowly raised her hand, and the yin energy condensed into two huge ghostly claws, which gripped Wang Laizi and Chen Youcai by the neck, lifting them into the air like lambs to the slaughter.

"It's time to end this..." she murmured.

"Snap!"

Two clear sounds of neck bones breaking rang out almost simultaneously.

Wang Laizi and Chen Youcai stared wide-eyed, their heads lolling limply to one side, their breaths fading.

The two souls had just floated out of the corpse when they were firmly grasped by Jiang Shuangjiang's resentful ghost claws.

Just then, the clattering sound of chains dragging on the ground came from the night sky.

The ghostly messenger's imposing roar echoed from afar: "You audacious vengeful spirit! You dare to kill living beings and refuse to surrender your souls! Submit to the law at once!"

Upon hearing this, Jiang Shuangjiang gave a bitter smile, her eyes flashing red with a fierce aura.

"Bring them to justice? Hahaha..." Her resentment began to swell, and she was about to self-destruct her soul, annihilating Chen Youcai and Wang Laizi's souls together.

Just then, the jade Buddhist bead hanging on her chest suddenly lit up.

The light was gentle, carrying a compassionate purity, washing away her boiling hatred and destructive impulses.

Jiang Shuangjiang's movements suddenly froze, and her burgeoning resentment subsided slightly.

The light from the prayer beads illuminated her crimson eyes, and the raging, bloodthirsty rage within them seemed to be soothed by the gentle light.

Taking advantage of this brief moment of clarity, she subconsciously looked in the direction of Yi Che and Jiang Dusheng.

Despite the darkness, she could almost see Yi Che's face, which was filled with pain.

The ferocity and madness in Jiang Shuangjiang's eyes receded like the tide, replaced by reluctance.

She suddenly raised the corners of her mouth, facing that direction, and gave a tearful, poignant smile.

Seeing this, Jiang Dusheng quickly patted Yi Che's shoulder, who was about to rush out, and whispered, "Quick, cry! Now!"

She didn't need to say anything.

The moment Yi Che saw Jiang Shuangjiang looking over, tears streamed down his cheeks, each drop burning hot.

Jiang Dusheng's eyes narrowed, and with a flicker of spiritual light from his left fingertip, the teardrop that Yi Che had rolled down was lifted up by an invisible force and suspended in the air.

The tears were glistening, as if reflecting all the light and shadow of his brief encounter with Jiang Shuangjiang.

At the same time, Jiang Dusheng held up the Forget-Dust Pearl that Jiang Shuangjiang had given her with her right palm facing upwards, and merged it into the teardrop that rolled down Yi Che's face.

Supported by spiritual energy, Jiang Dusheng's figure rose three feet off the ground, his clothes fluttering without wind, making him appear as ethereal as a fairy.

She slowly closed her eyes, her long eyelashes casting faint shadows on her face, while the cinnabar mole between her brows became even more vivid and striking under the surge of spiritual energy.

Like a drop of compassionate blood shed by a god or Buddha, or a lonely lamp guiding the lost in the darkness.