Part 3
“I need to go to other cities to assist fellow Daoists in handling the pieces one by one,” Xiang Guxun said. “There’s no time to lose; I must depart now.”
“I’ll arrange a driver to take you,” Hai Di said.
Xiang Guxun didn’t refuse. After thanking Hai Di, he hurriedly left.
With him gone, Hai Moyun thought he could leave too, but just as he took a step, he was called back.
“Where are you going?” Jiang Si asked, puzzled. “It’s not over yet; you have to wait here.”
“What else is there?” Lin Nan chimed in.
“There’s still a person who should be dead but isn’t,” Jiang Si said calmly. “The cycle of karma brings retribution. This cycle is just one step away from completion.”
They stayed behind, on one hand waiting for the Dukou to finish its revenge, and on the other hand watching it to ensure it didn’t kill indiscriminately.
On the other side of the globe, night had already fallen. A cool night breeze and a phone ringtone arrived before Hirakawa Haruhara.
His quite pleasant mood was torn to shreds by this call. He didn’t care about the upcoming social engagements and directly found the host to state that he had to leave immediately for the nearest airport.
The host tried repeatedly to keep him, but Hirakawa Haruhara uncharacteristically showed a cold face and demanded harshly, “I must leave this cruise ship and return to land right now, immediately.”
Seeing his firm attitude, the host could only agree and arranged a small boat to take him away first.
His secretary booked the ticket for him. Hirakawa Haruhara only felt at ease once he was finally on the plane to China. His palm tightly gripped his lightweight phone, and under the continuous stream of cold air, he actually broke into a sticky, cold sweat.
The call he had received a few hours ago was indeed an official notification from the Chinese police, asking him to fly to China immediately to cooperate with the investigation into recent accidental deaths.
Hirakawa Haruhara’s first reaction was naturally that it was because of the script murder game he had created. Seeing that so many people had died, he obviously wouldn’t walk into a trap.
Just as he was about to find an excuse to refuse, he heard the policeman on the other end say in clear English: “If you don’t return, the wooden box you smuggled into the country will be repatriated to Dongying. We will also issue warnings and lawsuits against you in an official capacity.”
Hirakawa Haruhara’s current status didn’t lie in his surname, but in his identity as a famous author.
If the Chinese police did this, he would be ruined, not to mention the troublesome lawsuits.
He could only agree for now, comforting himself that he was just going back. So many people had already died in the script murder game; with one thing waxing and the other waning, the curse on him wouldn’t have much left.
As long as he was careful enough…
The plane landed smoothly. Hirakawa Haruhara’s already tense nerves reached their highest threshold as he watched the passengers disembark one by one, like a tightened string that couldn’t stand even the slightest pluck.
He stiffly got off the plane. Without the burden of luggage, he walked exceptionally fast.
The phone rang again; it was still the Chinese police. The other party told him they had dispatched a public vehicle waiting at the airport.
Hirakawa Haruhara breathed a sigh of relief. With professional police protection, there surely wouldn’t be any accidents on this trip.
Unexpectedly, just as this thought arose, someone behind him suddenly gave him a hard push. His chubby body lunged forward due to inertia.
In front of him was an airport service vehicle. A second before it hit Hirakawa Haruhara, a steel pipe welded to the window suddenly detached, falling at an angle parallel to the ground, and pierced straight into Hirakawa Haruhara’s chest.
Puchi—
The sharp steel pipe tip transfixed his body. Blood immediately overflowed, completely soaking his snow-white shirt.
Hirakawa Haruhara looked down at the steel pipe he was holding in disbelief. No matter how talented he was, he couldn’t find any word other than “pain” to express his current state of mind.
The pedestrians around seemed to have noticed the accident, and someone shouted for security to come and save him.
Hirakawa Haruhara felt the voices fading from his ears. It seemed the sound of the wind from the sea not long ago had returned, blurring his vision.
He actually saw the scene he least wanted to see in his life.
In the reflection of the nearby service vehicle’s glass, there was a withered woman’s head. Thick, long white maggots crawled out of her eye sockets and then into the eyes of Hirakawa Haruhara, who was staring back at her.
His body shook as if struck by lightning. He tried desperately to back away, break free from the steel pipe, and flee this place.
Bang— Bang—
In an instant, the glass in front of him suddenly shattered. Countless tiny shards vied to rush into Hirakawa Haruhara’s eyeballs.
Several larger glass fragments struck his carotid artery with great force.
Crimson blood gushed out like a fountain.
The people around were terrified, while he stood in place, his life ending in such a bizarre and coincidental accident.
The Yinchai was carrying the Dukou in one hand and a chain in the other. The other end of the chain was fastened around Hirakawa Haruhara’s neck. He walked in and out of the script murder game shop’s door with great swagger.
Jiang Si looked at the two of them, pointed at Hirakawa Haruhara, and asked with undisguised disgust, “How will he be handled once he’s taken back?”
According to statistics from the Heavenly Master Association, the number of deaths from script murder game “accidents” was as high as sixteen, with another fifteen people suffering various injuries. Due to the power of the box’s curse, it had even altered the perception of the victims’ families.
For so long, not a single family member had noticed anything wrong. Those involved who did notice had no evidence to prove it—to the police, these were all firmly classified as accidental deaths.
The Dukou’s sins couldn’t be washed clean. But Hirakawa Haruhara, as the mastermind behind it all, wouldn’t receive a lighter punishment.
The Yinchai glanced at Hirakawa Haruhara. “Him? When he goes back, he’ll definitely be thrown into the oil vat and the sea of fire. He’ll have to suffer for at least a few hundred years.”
“Don’t worry, the judge hates people who are greedy for life and afraid of death the most. He definitely won’t let him off.”
Jiang Si then nodded and stepped aside. “That’s good.”
The Yinchai took a few steps, then suddenly turned back to him. “Do you still remember the female ghost I was escorting back in Baiyun Guan?”
“What about her?” Jiang Si hadn’t expected to hear news of Qin Zhansheng’s wife here.
“She asked me to give you a message. I forgot to mention it last time.” The Yinchai paused and said, “Before Qin Zhansheng died, she castrated him. Consider it venting some anger for you. Actually, she had seen you downstairs at her place before; you stood there for a long time holding a knife. She never expected you would still be willing to help send off her and Qin Zhansheng’s two children. She said she’s very grateful to you.”
“Alright, that’s about it. I can’t remember much more. Just take a listen.”
The Yinchai took a step and turned to Jiang Si again. “She’s a penniless ghost. The fee for delivering this message, you’ll have to pay it for her.”
Then he waved his hand and vanished in the blink of an eye. Jiang Si was left stunned in place, filled with mixed emotions.
Hai Di finished his call and came back in to find Jiang Si sitting behind the counter, staring blankly with his chin in his hand, not knowing what he was thinking.
“What are you thinking about so deeply?” He approached, but Jiang Si still didn’t respond.
“I’m pondering life,” Jiang Si said muffledly. “What do you think people live for?”
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