77: Atonement Is Required

Money isn’t everything, but without it, nothing is possible. In this era, where demands for money are constant and the wealthy can do as they please—even buying lives like Zhao Guang—the anger and helplessness in Hao Jianguo’s voice are palpable to me.

As someone who serves the people, knowing full well that the other person is a murderer, yet unable to bring them to justice, and even forced to endure their mocking laughter, is truly heartbreaking.

The car started slowly. Suddenly, Cao Guangshan asked, “Hey, Ziwu, as you said, Zhao Wanglong doesn’t know the price of extending Zhao Guang’s life. Just now, you hinted at it. Won’t he go ask the person who helped him about it?”

Always accustomed to handling cases, Cao Guangshan’s question made me realize I’d been focusing on the Zhao family, overlooking the sinister practitioner lurking in the shadows.

Both the Zhao family and the dark arts practitioner who performed the Five Elements Life Borrowing ritual are deeply entwined with the deaths of the five victims. I nodded, saying it was possible; my actions earlier were likely a wake-up call for Zhao Wanglong.

He asked me about the outcome, and I casually replied, but pointed directly at the heart of the matter, accurately describing what was happening to him at that moment.

He harmed others, and guilt already gnawed at him. My words about consequences and price triggered a reaction. Even though Zhao Wanglong has wealth and power, he is still human, and all humans fear death.

In fact, the wealthier the person, the more they fear death and the less they want to face it.

Within seconds, I was certain Zhao Wanglong would seek out the hidden practitioner, questioning him about the price.

“Let’s wait here and see.”

Hao Jianguo immediately took out the walkie-talkie and instructed the others to return, while we found a concealed spot nearby to monitor the Zhao residence.

After about ten minutes, the gates opened and a luxury car drove out.

“We guessed right; that’s Zhao Wanglong’s car,” Cao Guangshan said excitedly, starting our own car to follow.

We tailed them all the way.

Eventually, Zhao Wanglong’s car stopped at the foot of a mountain. He and a man who resembled him got out and began climbing the path up the mountain.

“Could it be that the priest in the small temple up there is behind this?” Cao Guangshan murmured, scanning the surroundings. I asked him about the priest, and he said there was a small temple called Tiande Temple, built two years ago. The old priest there was rumored to possess great skill, but was eccentric and rarely helped anyone who sought him.

Thinking of Zhao Wanglong, I knew this old priest was the type to sell his services only for money. Those without money would not receive his aid.

Hao Jianguo and Cao Guangshan checked their gear, got out, and followed, but halfway up the mountain, they saw lights descending. We hid, and saw it was Zhao Wanglong and his companion coming back down.

Judging by how quickly they ascended and descended, Hao Jianguo deduced they hadn’t found the old priest in the temple—otherwise they wouldn’t have left so soon.

Despite this, we continued up the mountain and entered the temple.

I thought the old priest might simply be out, but the temple was empty, items scattered everywhere, not a soul in sight. I was certain the practitioner of the Five Elements Life Borrowing ritual had fled.

Such forbidden arts, which harm life, are always cloaked in secrecy, and those who practice them rarely stay in one place for long.

I also realized, since the old priest understood these dark arts, he likely possessed some foresight. If he sensed someone meddling in this affair, trouble would soon follow, so he fled early, leaving the Zhao family to their fate.

After a thorough search yielded no clues, we descended and returned to the station. As we approached, I noticed a familiar car parked outside—Zhao Wanglong’s. We were all taken aback.

Clearly, my earlier warning had rattled Zhao Wanglong.

Initially, he’d sought the old priest for help, hoping to understand the price. But upon finding the priest gone, his anxiety grew, prompting him to seek out Hao Jianguo, hoping to reach me through him.

As soon as he got out, shouts erupted from the reception room, demanding Hao Jianguo be called, threatening to contact his superiors if not—his arrogance was palpable.

By now, Hao Jianguo knew we held the upper hand. He entered and barked, “Enough yelling, stop it, or I’ll lock you up.”

The station chief is always the chief; his presence commands respect. His shout stunned the furious Zhao Wanglong, who, regaining composure, ignored him and approached me, politely saying, “Young man, would it be convenient to talk somewhere else?”

When given respect, he spurned it; when denied, he grovelled. I disliked Zhao Wanglong, so I shook my head, “No time, I’m going to sleep. If you have anything to say, talk to my two brothers here.”

Naturally, I meant Cao Guangshan and Hao Jianguo. Amid their astonishment, I left the reception room, ignoring Zhao Wanglong’s calls after me.

He’s not worth saving; his death is of no consequence.

People like Zhao Wanglong, who believe money can change everything, won’t truly understand the gravity of death until they face it.

He usually treats Hao Jianguo and the others with contempt, but now I’d called them brothers partly to disgust Zhao Wanglong, forcing him to humble himself before them, and partly to curry favor with Hao Jianguo, hoping he’d help me find Xu Buhuo.

An hour later, Hao Jianguo and Cao Guangshan came to see me. As soon as I opened the door, they were all smiles, laughing heartily.

“Ziwu, thank you for helping me vent my anger,” Hao Jianguo said, patting my shoulder. Cao Guangshan recounted what happened after I left.

Once I left, Zhao Wanglong’s attitude reversed completely—offering cigarettes, addressing Hao Jianguo respectfully.

But after suffering so much abuse, Hao Jianguo showed him no kindness. Despite Zhao Wanglong’s flattery, he got no smile, so he quickly changed tack, threatening to have the staff replaced whenever he wished.

No sooner had he finished his arrogant speech than, according to Cao Guangshan, Zhao Wanglong suddenly screamed, clutching his head and collapsing in convulsions as if struck by illness, startling them both.

After about a minute of agony, Zhao Wanglong recovered. The intense headache seemed to make him realize the price I’d spoken of, and he was left utterly subdued, begging Hao Jianguo for help.

He pleaded incessantly, and Hao Jianguo told him to review all the misdeeds he and his associates had committed over the years, and come forward to confess at the station.

Upon hearing this demand, Zhao Wanglong’s face changed immediately, about to explode with anger, when Cao Guangshan interjected, explaining the price of the Five Elements Life Borrowing ritual, making it clear that without my help, the Zhao family members would die one by one, starting with him.

Understanding the price, Zhao Wanglong truly lost his spirit, leaving in despair.

There are those in this world who can face death calmly, but Zhao Wanglong isn’t one of them, nor are his family.

At this point, I voiced my thoughts: not all members of the Zhao family can be saved.

No matter what, I will not save Zhao Wanglong, even if he confesses his crimes and goes to prison.

Saving him would be akin to aiding a murderer.

Such matters are fraught with karmic consequences.

After hearing my stance, Hao Jianguo calmly asked, “If we do as you say, how many will die?”

“Four.”

I explained what I’d seen upon entering—the two with blood on their hands will not be saved, nor will Zhao Wanglong, leaving only Zhao Guang.

He is the main subject of the Five Elements Life Borrowing ritual; if we don’t stop it, he’ll live a few more years, but if we intervene, the backlash will return to him, and the vengeance will cause his death in agony—a fitting punishment.

“Can’t they be punished in prison instead?” Hao Jianguo looked at me earnestly. From his perspective, Zhao Wanglong and the other two, though guilty, are still human lives.

“Impossible.”

I shook my head, making my intentions clear: either things go my way, or I withdraw from the case.

The rules are harsh: those with blood on their hands must pay with their lives.

Moreover, I know prison is indeed a place of suffering, but not for people like Zhao Wanglong.

Thus, the only way for them to atone is one outcome: death.