The vast estate had already been transformed into a slaughterhouse.
What happened to Missy was playing out on every floor, again and again.
The grandmother, who’d successfully undergone the brain-swap surgery, was dismembered.
The grandfather, who’d gained a strong physique and become a sprint champion, had his legs broken and died a miserable death on the path out of the estate.
Dean Armitage, one of the masterminds and the lead surgeon of the operations, was swarmed by vengeful spirits who pried open his skull…
And with that, the entire Armitage family had only one survivor left: Rose.
In the living room, Su Fan continued to scribble on paper, as if all the carnage happening throughout the manor had nothing to do with him.
It wasn’t until the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of his head that his hand finally stopped.
“Don’t move, or I’ll blow your head off!”
Rose’s icy voice was laced with immense hatred and rage.
Her family was being massacred, yet she hadn’t chosen to flee or help them.
Instead, she’d slipped off her shoes, crept silently behind Su Fan, and pressed the barrel of her shotgun against his skull.
“You want to kill me? Then why not just pull the trigger?”
There wasn’t a trace of tension in Su Fan’s voice.
“You destroyed my family! You killed everyone I love! A single bullet would be too good for you—I’ll make sure you die in fear and agony!”
As she spoke, Rose seemed unable to contain her fury, jabbing the muzzle hard against the back of his head.
“You say I destroyed your family, as if you haven’t destroyed others’. How many innocent victims have died at your hands, traded away like merchandise?”
Su Fan let out a soft chuckle.
“They were nothing but plebeians. How dare you compare them to my parents!”
Rose sneered.
This land didn’t belong to the so-called people—it belonged to elites like her.
Whether Black or Asian, they were all just beggars coming to scrounge for a meal.
They’d bought into the so-called American Dream, burning with fervent zeal to convert and desperate to fit in.
But people are not born equal—plebeians will always be plebeians.
That pathetic look of wanting to be assimilated was laughable every single time.
And yet, precisely because of that, she’d been able to succeed time and again, despite her unremarkable looks.
“Is that so? I don’t see much of a difference.”
Su Fan didn’t turn around.
Behind him came Rose’s mocking laughter.
“Low-grade consumables like you are a dime a dozen.
Even if a hundred thousand or a million of you die, as soon as immigration policies open up, you’ll flood back into this land like locusts.
No more picking cotton or building railroads—at least now you can fetch a good price.
So be grateful. You’re worth way more than your ancestors ever were.”
The woman’s voice eventually drew the wandering souls that haunted the area.
They gathered around, crowding outside the living room.
But for some reason, these terrifying entities didn’t swarm in and tear Rose apart like they’d done with the other family members.
Their figures flickered in and out of the darkness, holding back, as if wary of something.
Seeing this, Rose, who had been tense, gradually relaxed.
She’d gambled correctly.
Every single ghost in the manor had been summoned by Su Fan—he was the key to everything.
As long as she held this seemingly defenseless young man hostage, not only would the ghosts dare not act, but those two bodyguards couldn’t touch her either.
Soon, she’d be able to walk out of this place unscathed.
“You’ve only got yourself to blame for being stupid enough to send your two bodyguards away.”
Rose’s voice carried a hint of contempt.
“Really?”
Su Fan finally stood up.
“What are you doing?”
Rose suddenly grew alert.
“Move again and I’ll shoot!”
She tightened her grip on the shotgun—one light squeeze of the trigger, and the young man before her would be dead.
Any sane person wouldn’t ignore her warning.
But the young man didn’t stop. It seemed he was about to turn around.
Rose’s face went cold, a vicious glint flashing in her eyes. She quickly shifted her aim to Su Fan’s calf.
Crippling one leg would still let him move—it wouldn’t be life-threatening, but it would make him suffer plenty.
You chose this yourself!
Rose’s finger clenched hard, and a surge of vengeful satisfaction rose in her heart.
But the gunshot never came.
Instead, a spray of blood erupted right in front of her, splattering across her face.
Then came the clatter of the gun hitting the floor, followed by a dull, heavy thud like meat falling.
Before she could even register the warm blood on her cheek, a searing, bone-deep pain shot up from both arms, scorching away every shred of her sanity.
Even her vision turned red.
Her arms.
Her arms were gone!
Before a scream could tear from her throat, a pen had already pierced through her windpipe.
Her body, now missing its arms, toppled backward onto the ground. Blood quickly spread beneath her, pooling darkly.
Sight, touch, smell—all fading fast. Just as consciousness was about to sink into total darkness, a distant voice drifted over.
“So high and mighty, and yet so easy to kill.”
…
At this point, a shotgun was about as dangerous to Su Fan as a rubber bullet—he didn’t even need to dodge.
Still, his clothes were shredded, which was a bit of a mess.
So he gave up on the idea of tanking the shot and simply took her out before she could fire.
Su Fan glanced down at Rose’s thoroughly dead body, then looked away, shifting his gaze to the throng of ghosts surrounding the living room.
The Armitage family had been wiped out. Their obsessions and resentments should have been settled.
Logically, the spirits should no longer have any strong reason to linger in this world.
But these things were still standing in the darkness, their numbers undiminished.
Seeing this, Su Fan furrowed his brow slightly.
Truth be told, only a minority of ghosts choose to dissipate on their own or move on to reincarnation once their grievances are resolved.
Most vengeful spirits, after being tainted with the murderous aura of killing, lose whatever shred of reason they had left, eventually degenerating into evil spirits driven solely by the instinct to slaughter.
The ones before him seemed to be heading down that path.
Su Fan formed hand seals, ready to recite the Purification Incantation.
But then he noticed something—their attention didn’t seem to be on him at all.
After a moment’s thought, Su Fan turned his gaze to the floor in the center of the living room.
The Yin Gathering Array.
The dense Yin energy here was a feast for the dead.
Their reluctance to leave stemmed from their greed for its nourishment.
Su Fan walked up to the array and casually dismantled it.
As the Yin Gathering Array was destroyed, the ghosts in the room began to dissipate, one by one.
“Looks like we missed a good show.”
Dean and Sam came down the stairs, spotting the dead woman on the ground and clicking their tongues in amusement.
“Did you find it?”
“Right here.”
Sam tossed a book to Su Fan.
“Just like you said—they kept a ledger of every transaction, along with a ton of surgical records.”
“Dean and I left quite a few traces while searching. That shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”
“No, it’s fine. Actually, it’s better this way.”
Su Fan flipped through a couple of pages, then closed the book.
The goal had been achieved—there was no need to stay here any longer tonight.
With a shared understanding, the three of them made their way toward the exit of the villa.
And at that moment, a sudden wave of intuition washed over Su Fan.
He immediately looked up, spreading his spiritual sense outward until it locked onto a certain tome in the library.
