Volume Twelve: The Invitation to Hell Chapter Thirty-Two: The Millstone Hell

After the Volcano Hell case, Yaoguang had been trying to find out the location of the next Ghost Market opening. This time, it wasn’t the city’s usual ghost market, but the Dark River Ghost Market. The Dark River Ghost Market was the true ghost market in every sense—here, the traded items were far more numerous, but all invisible to the mortal eye, naturally demanding a greater price. The range of traders was also far wider. However, this market was extremely secretive and mobile, so it was necessary to inquire in advance about the exact time and place of its opening.

Yaoguang went to the ghost market to find Huangquan, but, unprecedentedly, the guy was nowhere to be found. Without any news of Huangquan, locating the Dark River Ghost Market proved truly difficult.

“Phoenix, the invitation for Chapter Seventeen has appeared,” Xuanchen interrupted Yaoguang’s thoughts as he came in.

“Let’s go,” Yaoguang stood up.

But to her surprise, Xuanchen brought everyone by car directly to the hospital.

Yaoguang eyed Xuanchen suspiciously. “The victim is still alive?!”

“Alive, but will be disabled in the next life,” Xuanchen said. “He’s been admitted, so nursing care has to be arranged.”

“What kind of operation is this?” Yaoguang glanced at Xuanchen. What did the culprit do to the victim this time?

Upon entering the hospital, they went straight to the third floor’s orthopedics ward. A man sat by the bedside. Yaoguang stepped in and was stunned at the sight of his face. “Three Hands? What’s your situation?”

“Big Sister Phoenix, help me!” Three Hands, seeing Yaoguang, immediately tried to cling to her leg.

“Speak properly,” Yaoguang said disdainfully, dodging him and sitting on the stool opposite.

The nearby police officer pulled Three Hands upright and guided him back to the bed.

“This is his medical record; take a look first,” the doctor handed over a case file.

Yaoguang opened it and was momentarily shocked: “Comminuted fractures in both hands; all the bones have shattered into powder and are already starting to liquefy.” She looked at Three Hands. His arms hung limply, swollen terribly like two inflated rubber gloves.

Yaoguang approached and probed with her spiritual energy, astonished to find the bones in his hands were completely gone. She gently squeezed his hands—soft and squishy, making a squelching sound.

She stood frozen for a moment. Bone Dissolution Technique. This technique had been lost for many years. It was a sinister, poisonous art; those struck would have their bones dissolve. The last time this technique appeared was over nine centuries ago, during the final dynasty. Now, in the 21st century, how could such a technique still emerge?

“Big Sister Phoenix, can my hands still be saved?” Three Hands wailed.

“Arrange surgery to remove the skin and tissue of his hands. If left unchecked, his arms will dissolve too. You’ve been afflicted by the Bone Dissolution Technique, and I’m powerless against it,” Yaoguang shook her head.

“Bone Dissolution Technique?! How could such an inherited art still exist?” Chen Haixu was amazed.

“Truly speechless,” Yaoguang sighed.

Three Hands was already wailing like a banshee.

Yaoguang scowled at him. “Why are you crying? Have some shame. Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

“What?” Three Hands was clueless.

“The Hell Envoy. By order, you’re from the seventeenth layer of hell—the Stone Mill Hell. Of the previous sixteen layers, I only saved two people; the rest died. But you, the Hell Envoy, only lost your hands, not your life—that’s why you’re still here crying,” Yaoguang glared at him.

“Hell Envoy?! The culprit behind the recent rampant serial killings? But why target me?” Three Hands was frustrated.

“That depends on what you’ve done,” Yaoguang replied, annoyed.

“Seventeenth layer of Hell: Stone Mill Hell. Those who waste crops, thieves, corrupt officials, and oppressors of the people are condemned there after death. They are ground into meat paste, then their bodies are remade and ground again. Also, meat-eating monks and Taoists suffer the same fate,” Huo Mingkun said calmly. “Which crime did you commit?”

“I, I, I…” Three Hands stammered, unable to come up with an answer.

“Thief. Everything you can think of—phones, wallets, electronics, tobacco, alcohol, tea, food, women’s underwear—if you can imagine it, he’s stolen it,” Yaoguang sighed. “All these years, I thought you’d reformed, but you’re still as incorrigible as ever.”

“I haven’t,” Three Hands whimpered.

“You haven’t? You think nobody knows just because you haven’t been caught? The police station has piles of reports waiting to catch you. Now you’ve walked right into their hands. This time, you’re not going anywhere,” Chu Tianyou glared at him.

“I don’t want to steal either,” Three Hands sobbed. “I just can’t control myself.”

“Stop making excuses. I know what kind of person you are. Now, without your hands, let’s see how you manage. Being locked up is always a hassle,” Yaoguang looked at him with exasperation. “Now tell me, what happened?”

“Last night, around midnight, I think. I don’t know the exact time. I felt the room was freezing cold. I got up and found the window was open—I don’t know when. I went to close it, and the next second, I nearly died of fright,” Three Hands said dramatically.

“Get to the point,” Yaoguang impatiently urged.

“I saw two people standing in the corner of the room. I was so scared I almost peed myself. I thought they were ghosts, but then I saw their shadows, so they weren’t. One was a man, the other a woman. The woman wore white clothes, quite pretty, about 1.6 meters tall, with a slender figure. An oval face, long hair, willow-shaped eyebrows, big eyes—but her face was frighteningly pale, like snow. She stood there staring right at me. Beside her was a man, quite tall, with hair hanging down like a scholar in those old dramas, gray and covering his face. He wore a gray long robe, like an ancient style. He was very tall but terribly hunched over. The woman came up to me and said, ‘Do you really like stealing? Then I’ll take your hands.’ Then a huge black aura appeared around her. Inside that aura, I saw the shadow of a man who seemed both pained and joyful. I thought I was seeing things, but the next moment, the hunched man moved. As soon as he approached, I couldn’t move. He grabbed my hands with his rotten, claw-like hands and slapped them. I felt my hands freeze, then I fainted. When I woke, I realized my hands had no feeling,” Three Hands finished.

The doctor came in and said the surgery was already arranged.

Yaoguang looked at Three Hands. “Have the surgery. We’ll judge your crimes once you recover.” She then left the hospital, heading straight to Three Hands’ home.

The house was like a store—everything imaginable was there. No need to ask; it was all stolen by Three Hands.

On the tea table lay an invitation.

Yaoguang picked it up and opened it.

Inviter: Bo Shan.

No hands, no stealing, huh? Hahaha.

Signed: Hell Envoy.

“No hands, no stealing, huh? Indeed,” Yaoguang handed the invitation to Jiang Yun, sensing the surrounding magnetic field.

Within this field was a familiar aura.

Hmm? What was this familiar aura? It was a faint yin energy mixed with a vague masculine yang. Where had she seen this magnetic field before?

Back at the police station, Yaoguang fell into deep thought. She no longer cared about Three Hands—he was a habitual thief, leaving the criminal investigation team to deal with him.

What concerned her was the killer. Three Hands had described the woman in white, and when her black aura appeared, a man’s shadow could be seen within it. That shadow exhibited signs of both sadness and joy—a parasitic soul. Parasitic souls came in two kinds: one where a ghost forcibly possessed the host, and another where the host willingly allowed the soul to reside. This black smoke was no longer just a soul but a vengeful spirit. The girl was possessed by a vengeful spirit—an unnatural symbiotic system. For a short time, it might be manageable, but over time, the spirit would consume the host’s yang energy and lifespan, while the host would weaken the spirit’s essence.

Could it be... Yaoguang’s mind entertained a terrifying thought. Impossible! Could this symbiotic entity be merging? The vengeful spirit blending into the living body, allowing one person to harbor two souls—one human, one ghost. When the ghost sleeps, the human awakens, and vice versa. Over time, the two would fuse, becoming neither human nor ghost. The ultimate fate of such a being was madness—violent and bloodthirsty madness. This would be a demon with a physical form.

If the girl truly was in this state, things had become dangerous. Yet, in Yaoguang’s memory, this technique was a thousand-year-old forbidden art created by a dark cultivator to absorb others’ cultivation. After the cultivator’s death, the secret method was lost. How did this girl acquire it? Could it be that the dark cultivator’s spirit had not perished but gone to the Dark River Ghost Market? If so, that would explain everything.

This was only speculation for now, but what frustrated Yaoguang most was the familiarity of the magnetic field—the tall, hunched man with rotten claw-like hands, gray hair, and the gray long robe?

No way... Yaoguang shook her head but then thought of Huangquan. The person with the killer was Huangquan?!

That could explain why Huangquan was absent from the ghost market.

Why would Huangquan help that girl? Could it be...

Her thoughts jumped wildly in those few minutes, sinking her heart ever deeper.

“What are you thinking about?” Xuanchen asked.

“A terrible matter. I still can’t find any clue about the Dark River Ghost Market’s whereabouts. It’s frustrating,” Yaoguang said, speechless.

Xuanchen shook his head silently in response.