The Underworld Sable Envoy: I Cultivate Immortality at the Department of Spiritual Investigation

"bite……"

"Ding, ding..."

The sound came from outside the door.

I abruptly threw off the covers, stepped barefoot onto the cold tiles, and flung open the door.

A woman dressed in Tibetan clothing, who had her back to me, suddenly turned around!

The Tibetan bear, draped in a half-detached, still-dripping human skin, lunged at you.

It suddenly pounced on me, knocking my head against the doorframe, and my vision went completely white. It lowered its head, and its bear-like face, stitched to its collar, drew close to mine. It opened its mouth, and between its gleaming white teeth was still some of Senfang's... from last night...

But the power of the underworld at his fingertips was like a stagnant pool, and no matter how he tried to activate it, there was no response.

This is a dream! I'm trying so hard to remember!

Just then, a fragrance of flowers wafted over.

In the fragrance of peach blossoms that should have been sweet, I could faintly smell a strong stench of blood.

Pink and white petals were pouring in from under the door, one, ten, a hundred—they climbed up my ankles, knees, waist and abdomen, like living mercury, wrapping me up tightly.

The edges of the petals were thinner than a razor blade. My flesh was sliced ​​off piece by piece, and my bones were chewed up inch by inch.

I feel my body is numb with pain, which is more terrifying than pain itself.

Just then.

A dazzling silver-white light shone from the direction of my pillow.

Wherever the light passed, the Tibetan bears carbonized amidst screams, and peach petals curled, withered, and crumbled into dust as they danced in the air.

The shadow of that "bell" flickered on the windowsill.

Then it disappeared...

"ah--!"

I suddenly opened my eyes.

My shirt was soaked with sweat. I checked my phone and it was 02:17 AM.

I had another nightmare...

Lago Village, Lulang, Zayu...

The Tibetan bear, the peach blossom spirit, and that thing I still don't know how to call, the one that counts steps.

They come in turns.

Sometimes one person stays up all night, sometimes they're all crammed into the same dream.

The dragon scales are under the pillow.

I didn't turn on the light and reached out to touch that spot.

Warm!

It's not that feeling of "still having some warmth left".

It's another kind—like it's still "alive".

I reached for the water glass on the bedside table and took a big gulp.

I have to go to a meeting at the bureau tomorrow; the report says "task review".

The temperature of the dragon scales subtly rose by half a degree.

It's as if it's asking me, "Are you ready?"

"I've said enough!"

Chou Chou's consciousness drifted in, carrying the hoarseness and impatience of someone just waking up.

"It's enough for you to use once or twice."

"I never said you could use it as a water clock."

I turned my head and saw that Chou Chou had woken up at some point and was squatting on the edge of the soft cage, curling himself into a fluffy ball with only his two black bean eyes showing.

Moonlight peeked through the gaps in the curtains, gilding its back with a very faint silver edge.

I opened my palm, and the dragon scales lay there quietly.

"It's especially warm today."

Chou Chou didn't say anything, she just stared at the scale.

Then consciousness drifted in again, as soft as a sigh:

"...It is recognizing you."

"You know me? Why would your granary know me?" I touched my still somewhat bewildered head.

Stinky didn't answer.

It rested its chin on the edge of the soft cage, squinted its eyes, as if it were about to fall asleep again.

I opened my mouth.

There are so many questions I want to ask, such as: What does the underworld look like? What do you do there every day? Can the cycle of reincarnation be restarted if it's broken? What does the spirit realm mean...? Do I still have a chance to find the answers?

I swallowed those words back and clenched them in my palm along with the dragon scales.

With a soft snore, Chou Chou fell asleep again...

The next day, in the conference room of the Linzhi City Investigation Bureau, Director Yang put down the report and slowly moved his gaze from Dorje's face to mine.

He paused for a long time, then closed the report.

"The burial of Wuzhui this afternoon has been approved by LS."

He paused for a moment, then said, "They asked when the case closure report for Zayu would be submitted."

The meeting room was deathly silent; no one spoke.

Dorjee sat there silently, his back pressed against the chair back, his gaze fixed on the cover of the report on the table. He offered no explanation or further elaboration.

With over twenty years of field experience, there's no need to prove it verbally.

Seventeen lowered his head, staring at his ankle—he couldn't see anything there, but he wanted to know if the thread was still there.

Director Yang surveyed the conference room. "Who's confident?"

Master Langda twirled a string of Bodhi seed beads, the clinking of the beads making a soft sound. "Then let's try a different approach..."

Director Yang put down the unlit cigarette.

The meeting then shifted its focus from how to resolve the case to "not reclaiming the body, but preventing it from killing again."

Director Yang was well aware that since the emergence of unknown supernatural entities across the country, apart from a very few "lucky ones" like Su Nianyang, ordinary personnel were simply unable to fight against them, and could not even perform the most basic detection.

If Su Nianyang's life is the only way to successfully resolve this incident, then the higher-ups must decide to permanently seal off that area with a radius of 20 kilometers and continue to explore all potential future possibilities in Su Nianyang.

The strategic value of a living Su Nianyang cannot be measured by a single "case"!

I placed several glasses of iced Americano on the field team's meeting table.

Dorjee didn't look up; he simply tapped the table with his chin.

17 took the cup and said, "Thanks, bro."

Having spent a few years working at the grassroots level, I can say that a few cups of coffee won me over, but I just hope I won't get shot in the back while on a mission. 17 was stirring the ice in his cup with his head down.

As the office door was slowly pushed open, Director Yang walked in.

He pushed the tablet he was holding towards us; the screen still displayed the LS Investigation Bureau logo. "It's been transferred to us..."

I casually took the tablet and saw that it was a notice about the temporary secondment of me, Dorje, and 17.

Dorje leaned closer for a look, then frowned. "Why would you lend it to me? I don't have any black mist on me."

Scrolling down the screen, the case details are roughly about a group of children who have mysteriously disappeared in a suburb of LS.

The locations where they disappeared were all in blind spots of surveillance cameras, or they vanished instantly from under the camera's view...

Dorjee's brow furrowed even deeper.

"That's all?"

Director Yang, who was standing nearby, suddenly spoke up:

"They don't want us to know too much."

Dorjee looked at him.

Director Yang then pointed to a line of small print at the end of the document.

"Details will be provided in person by the LS Precinct upon arrival at the scene."

"This is borrowing someone," Director Yang said. "It's not a formal announcement."

I remained silent for a few seconds.

Director Yang lit a cigarette, but didn't smoke it.

"The seventh child," he said, "is the son of a CEO from LS."

Dorjee was taken aback.

"What boss?"

"They're in the infrastructure business. That new asphalt road at the bottom, I'm sure, was built by their company."

Director Yang paused, "His son has been missing for a week, and he's been calling the entire Duodi County government office non-stop." "That's why he's specifically asking for his son this time..."

Five hours later, in a suburb of LS.

Outside the car window, it was already completely dark.

Dorjee drove very slowly. The road was a newly paved asphalt road, smooth as if it had just been laid. But the further north they went, the fewer lights appeared on both sides, until finally they disappeared completely.

Only the two beams of light cut by the car headlights remained, illuminating the reflective strips on the road shoulder, which receded one by one.

17 turned around from the passenger seat and glanced at me. "Nianyang, how are you feeling?" I could sense a hint of tension in his tone.

"Their decision to borrow me this time was absolutely a mistake." I glanced down at the dragon scale lying in my palm; it was cold and slightly prickly. "Haven't you collected enough yet?"

My fingertips were faintly black, the kind that couldn't be washed off, a black that shone through my skin like it had been stained with paint. I stared at it for a few more seconds.

The darkness neither receded nor spread. It was like a marker, or perhaps some kind of warning.

About twenty minutes later, we arrived at the outskirts of the city.

There were no welcome signs, no streetlights, only rows of drab, gray bungalows, crookedly lined up on both sides of the road.

Dorjee parked his car in front of a three-story building with a faded sign on the roof that read "Duodi County Guesthouse," but half of the character "待" (dài, meaning "wait") was missing.

A tall, thin man in a dark blue uniform stood at the door, his face expressionless—he was probably from the LS Spirit Investigation Bureau.

Another middle-aged man, dressed casually, slightly overweight, and wearing glasses, stood in the shadows, clutching his phone, the screen flashing on and off repeatedly.

There was also an old man in Tibetan clothing standing at the very edge, clutching a string of cow bone beads in his hand.

Team Leader Dorje got off the bus, and we followed.

The tall, thin man in uniform came forward and saluted.

"From Linzhi?"

Dorjee nodded.

"Thank you for your hard work. I'm Zaxi from the LS Paranormal Investigation Bureau." He stepped aside. "And this is...?"

Before the tall, thin man could finish speaking, the slightly overweight middle-aged man with glasses walked over and extended his hand to us.

"Hello, sir. My surname is Fan, Fan Tong."

"Oh, you're the big boss?" Before Team Leader Dorje could finish speaking...

With a chuckle, 17 couldn't help but laugh.

Dorjee turned around and glared at him, and Seventeen lowered his head sullenly.

"My son's name is Fan Xiaobei, he's seven years old, and he's been missing for eight days." "Can you please help rescue the child?" As he spoke, Mr. Fan pulled several packs of good cigarettes and several thickly wrapped envelopes from the trunk of his car…

Dorje pushed his hand back, saying, "Boss Fan, money can solve 99% of the world's problems, but for the remaining 1%, even we are not 100% sure we can solve them."

"I don't care how you solve it!" Fan Tong interrupted Dorje. "I just want to know if you can find my son!"

He was still clutching several thickly wrapped envelopes in his hand.

It's not hard to see that Boss Fan, having held a high position for so long, seems to have treated us "eccentrics" as his employees as well. What a damn world!

The dragon scale in my pocket suddenly felt cool for a moment; it was a feeling that came from nowhere.

I instinctively looked down.

Fan Tong's knuckles were white, and his nails were neatly trimmed and clean.

But the back of his hand—

There are several shallow, scabbed scratches.

It felt like I'd been scratched by something sharp; I stared at the scratch marks.

Fan Tong followed my gaze, looked down, glanced at me, and then withdrew his hand.

"It was scratched when I moved," he said.

Zaxi coughed lightly beside him.

"Um... this is Tsering."

He pointed to the old man clutching the cow bone beads.

The old man did not come over.

He just stood there, clutching the cow bone beads, looking at us.

Dorjee asked, "His son too...?"

Zaxi shook his head.

"His grandson. The first one to go missing, sixteen days ago."

Sixteen days! I looked at the old man.

He remained silent, simply clutching the string of beads.

Again and again… the sound of the beads colliding was as soft as a sigh in the night breeze.

Twenty minutes later.

We sat in the only room on the first floor of the guesthouse that was lit.

Tashi spread the case file out on the table. Three names.

The first one is Tsering's grandson, who went missing sixteen days ago.

The second one is Xiao Zhuoma, who went missing 10 days ago.

The third one is Fan Xiaobei…

"All the missing persons cases," Zaxi said, "are in blind spots of surveillance, or..."

He paused.

"Or the surveillance cameras captured it, but nothing unusual was observed."

He pulled a photograph out of the file.

That was a screenshot from a surveillance camera.

The scene shows a dirt road with low walls on both sides, leading to barren mountains.

In the middle of the road, there is a little girl in a red Tibetan dress, with her back to the camera, walking forward.

There was no one within three meters of her.

But her walking posture was strange; it was slow and steady, as if someone was leading her.

I stared at this screenshot for a long time.

The dragon scales were in my pocket, and they cooled for a moment.

It looked like something was very close...

I instinctively turned my head to look at the corner, where the window of the room was slightly ajar.

The night wind squeezed in through the crack, rustling the files on the table. Apart from the dark, desolate mountains in the distance and the faint, intermittent braying of a donkey coming from them, the only other sounds were the faint, intermittent sounds of the wind.