DT |Chapter 3: Nineteen Coffins Part Three (Revised)

Tian Nan Di Bei really did accompany Fan Wujiu for half the night. Eventually, he couldn’t hold on and wanted to nap, and he didn’t know when he fell asleep.

He slept until after nine in the morning, and when he woke up, Fan Wujiu was already gone, and the brocade pouch on the table was also missing.

Tian Nan Di Bei instantly woke up. He stumbled to open the door and, coincidentally, bumped into Sheng Feng, who was passing by the reception room.

“Captain!” Tian Nan Di Bei stood up straight. “Fan… Fan Wujiu… he, he, he…! The pouch…”

“I know, calm down. When I came back, Fan Wujiu gave me the brocade pouch. I figured it wasn’t easy for you to sit with him all night, so I didn’t wake you,” Sheng Feng said as he flipped through the folder in his hand.

Tian Nan Di Bei breathed a sigh of relief, then suddenly remembered the case and asked, “So, Captain, is there any progress on the Yunhai University case?”

“See for yourself.” Sheng Feng slapped a stack of documents onto Tian Nan Di Bei. “The case has been completely transferred to our group. After you read it, make sure to call the brothers at Yunhai University and tell them to protect the scene. No one is allowed to enter and take photos to avoid causing public panic.”

“Got it, Captain,” Tian Nan Di Bei replied.

Sheng Feng stretched, moved his legs a bit, and pressed the elevator button. “I’m going to rest for a bit. Send some younger ones to Yunhai University to casually ask the students if anything strange has happened recently.”

After speaking, Sheng Feng entered the elevator alone, planning to go to the second basement to drive home.

Today, the elevator was particularly slow. Accompanied by strange metal friction sounds, it slowly stopped on the third floor, and several leaders from other departments of National Security also entered, heading to the second basement.

Sheng Feng stepped back to the corner of the elevator.

After the elevator doors closed, it didn’t continue to operate immediately. The lights flickered a few times before it resumed descending.

Sheng Feng’s innate sensitivity made him decisively press the button for the first basement. He got off the elevator there.

Standing at the chaotic storage room entrance, he caught a glimpse of the elevator he had just exited returning to normal operation the moment he stepped out.

He silently glanced at the black brocade pouch hanging at his waist. If he didn’t resolve this thing on the spot, he wasn’t sure if he could make it home safely.

“Captain Sheng, I personally hope you don’t open this pouch. It can greatly assist you, but it can also silently kill you,” Fan Wujiu had said to him before leaving.

Sheng Feng chose to take the fire escape to the second basement. Sure enough, as he walked, he encountered a ghost wall. It was only two floors, but he walked the equivalent of four floors and still hadn’t reached the second basement door.

Messing with me?

Sheng Feng simply leaned against the white wall and stopped moving.

He took off the brocade pouch from his waist, held it between two fingers, and chuckled. The next second, he untied the black pouch adorned with golden patterns.

It was empty inside, nothing at all.

Just as Sheng Feng was puzzled, the space around him underwent a massive change. The stairs and iron railings twisted and deformed severely, and the entire color scheme became extremely gray.

“Hei Wuchang should have warned you not to release me. Little thing, why don’t you listen?” A strange voice echoed throughout the space.

“The Underworld sent you to assist me, yet you want to kill me. Don’t I have to help you fulfill that wish?” Sheng Feng pulled out a handful of talisman papers from his chest. The papers scattered around and then gathered into a long whip.

The other party seemed indifferent to Sheng Feng’s sarcasm.

In an instant, a fierce ghostly aura attacked. Sheng Feng reacted quickly, and the whip flashed, dispersing the ghostly aura. But before he could react, several ghostly figures flew at him. The whip clashed with the ghostly figures, producing a piercing friction sound, sparks flying.

After a fierce battle, Sheng Feng had several cuts on his body. He stood in place to adjust, and the ghostly aura gradually dissipated. The other party seemed to abandon this prolonged tactic.

Suddenly, Sheng Feng felt a chill behind him, followed by a tight grip on his neck, lifting him into the air.

The air was instantly squeezed out, and the ghost’s grip on his neck was incredibly strong. The whip in his hand fell to the ground, turning into white smoke.

The opponent finally revealed its true form after such a long entanglement, but Sheng Feng’s vision went black, and he couldn’t see anything. He tried to pry the hand off his neck, but it was like an iron clamp, unmoving.

It’s over, I’m going to die young.

Just as Sheng Feng was about to completely lose strength, the grip on his neck suddenly loosened, and he fell straight onto the concrete floor.

The twisted space vanished instantly, returning to the normal stairwell as if the terrifying nightmare had never happened.

Sheng Feng lay on the ground, coughing forcefully, taking deep breaths of fresh air. His vision slowly cleared, no longer blurry.

In front of him, a mass of black mist hovered in mid-air, circling him as if examining him.

“You… you really wanted to kill me! Cough, cough…” Sheng Feng accused, pointing at the mist. “Can’t you have a bit of conscience? I was the one who let you out of that damn pouch!”

He coughed violently, looking teary-eyed as if he had suffered a great grievance.

The large mass of mist that had just been twisting space and controlling ghosts was stunned by Sheng Feng’s scolding, and the mist shrank.

“You… don’t play dumb with me. If you don’t want to help, just go back! I didn’t beg you Underworld people for help!” Sheng Feng’s throat hurt from being choked, and he was also filled with anger. After cursing, he stood up, dusted off his clothes, and headed to the second basement.

Although Sheng Feng should thank this ghost for not killing him outright, he was still very angry.

This time, there was no ghost wall. He reached the underground parking lot in less than a minute.

The mist followed him at a distance. When Sheng Feng found his car and was about to get in, the mist clung to the car window.

“How did you get the injury on your neck?” the mist asked.

Sheng Feng was stunned, and then the anger that had just subsided flared up again. He stepped on the gas, and the mist was almost dispersed.

“The Yunhai University issue isn’t resolved yet. I can replace the Life and Death Soul Disk to help you find the lost souls!”

Sheng Feng slammed on the brakes, and the mist was thrown by the inertia, hitting the parking lot wall heavily, looking extremely comical.

“Ouch! My back… it hurts…” The mist gradually dissipated, revealing a person’s figure. He sat on the ground, holding his waist, his outline and face still hidden in the mist.

Sheng Feng parked the car in a random spot, turned off the engine, got out, and walked to the mist. Although the ghost’s face was unclear, his attire suggested he was someone of high status in the Underworld.

The ghost leaned against the wall, slowly standing up, seemingly not lightly injured by Sheng Feng’s earlier action.

Sheng Feng rarely saw such a tall ghost, even taller than himself by half a head. The ghost’s presence was chilling, like a high-powered air conditioner, indicating he had been dead for a long time.

“Can you walk? If you can, get in the car.”

Although his face was unclear, Sheng Feng instinctively felt the ghost rolled his eyes at him before limping through the car door to sit in the back seat.

Sheng Feng had been delayed at National Security for too long. By the time he drove to his residential area, it was already mealtime.

“Hey, shouldn’t we eat before we talk?”

Sheng Feng ignored him, turned off the car, and headed straight for the stairwell. The ghost had no choice but to follow silently. This time, the elevator reached the sixteenth floor smoothly.

“I want beef noodles. Can you make beef noodles? Do you have tea at home? I can’t live without tea. A hundred years ago, I had the pleasure of visiting the human world, accompanied by beautiful women in brothels. It was quite enjoyable. But looking at you, you could easily be a courtesan in a brothel…”

The ghost’s voice abruptly stopped because Sheng Feng’s murderous glare indicated he should swallow the rest of his words.

As an outstanding ghost, he was quite self-aware.

Sheng Feng didn’t take the house assigned by National Security. He still lived in the old house from his high school days, far from the city center and National Security. It was a blessing that cars could even enter the neighborhood.

Sheng Feng took out his keys, entered the house, boiled water, and prepared a bowl of noodles for himself. Unexpectedly, the ghost opened the living room curtains, sat on the sofa with his legs crossed.

The house hadn’t seen sunlight for a long time. With the curtains open, Sheng Feng felt the long-lost warmth of the sun.

The ghost’s face seemed clearer than before. Sheng Feng could now see he was wearing an emerald green collared robe, likely embroidered with dark patterns, though not yet visible in detail.

“Captain Sheng, I’m starving. Please hurry up!”

Sheng Feng was slicing sausage. Hearing the ghost’s carefree remarks, he felt a surge of anger, gripping the knife handle tightly—he really wanted to sew this guy’s mouth shut.

After a while of not hearing the ghost’s chatter, Sheng Feng had a bad feeling and peeked out.

He saw the ghost pacing by his display shelf, initially looking at the porcelain on top, then opening the cabinet to rummage through things.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

When Sheng Feng tried to stop him, the ghost happily took out a box of tea leaves from the cabinet.

“So you do have tea. Why didn’t you say so earlier? It’s my favorite white tea.” He ran to wash a cup, rolled up his sleeves, and brewed himself a cup, sipping it despite the heat. Then he pointed at Sheng Feng, saying, “You really… waste good things. How can you store such fine tea so carelessly?”

Sheng Feng rolled his eyes, about to retort, when he suddenly realized he didn’t know the ghost’s name. So he asked, “What’s your name?”

The ghost was patiently blowing on the hot tea. Hearing Sheng Feng’s sudden question, he paused for a second, then said, “I don’t have a name.”

Sheng Feng felt he was being evasive. It’s normal for some minor ghosts not to reveal their names, but for a powerful ghost like him, he should be eager to make his name known.

“I probably had a name before, but I forgot it.” He hesitated, put down the cup, and crossed his hands. “After I died and became a ghost, I died three more times. I’m the Ghost King of Xiyi Realm, with millions of vengeful souls under me. They’re used to calling me the Ghost King of Xiyi.”

“You’re already in Xiyi Realm?” Sheng Feng was greatly surprised.

Throughout history, humans kill humans, ghosts kill ghosts, and wandering spirits often get involved in the same kind of slaughter as in the human world. The death they speak of is either being devoured to become part of an evil ghost or consuming others in a bloodbath to gain new life.

The “death” this ghost spoke of should be the latter.

Humans die to become ghosts, ghosts die to become zhan, zhan die to become Xi, Xi die to become Yi. The Underworld sent them this big ghost, and now it seems his strength must have reached the “Yi” level.

Fan Wujiu was right; this is indeed not a good character.