Chapter 107: The Photograph Inside the Envelope

Prince Hao achieved another feat, not only uncovering the truth behind the photo murder case but also single-handedly capturing the real culprit. Yet Prince Hao knew that without me and Song Zhong, that old man would have continued to roam free. Since both Song Zhong and I operated in the shadows, the old man promised to treat us to a meal once the reward money was issued. Naturally, I agreed on behalf of Song Zhong—who wouldn’t seize such an advantage?

At first, Prince Hao suspected the old man might be connected to Jin Chan, but after questioning, it became clear he wasn’t. He was just a fortune-telling charlatan with some magical skills but a corrupt heart. Before this incident, he had merely used these spirits and demons to perform readings, employing minor tricks to make money. Over time, however, he realized his earnings could never fill the financial hole caused by his son.

Though the old man had some talent and attracted many clients, the son was a disgrace—over forty, unmarried, and addicted to gambling. The old man’s life savings were gone, and debts piled high. Being a father, he couldn’t simply abandon his son, so to earn more money, he agreed to perform some forbidden and unnatural rituals for wealthy clients. The specifics were unknown to me; Prince Hao only said that if successful, no matter how much they lost in the future, someone would always cover their debts.

Hearing this, I laid my hand on Prince Hao’s shoulder and said, “Defying heaven’s will invites its own reckoning.” Prince Hao nodded in agreement. “Right, now that old man’s hands are crippled, he won’t be casting spells anymore.”

I smiled. Even more intriguing was what happened three days after the old man’s arrest—a sensational suicide case rocked the Jianghuai region. The focus wasn’t just the leap itself but the chain of events it triggered: gambling, loan sharking, and more. The man who jumped was the old man’s son.

Though the son had never lived a respectable life, after his father’s monstrous crimes, using his own death to rid society of harm was, in a way, a noble act. Speaking of noble deeds, my gaze involuntarily shifted to Song Zhong. “Coach, you’ve truly earned infinite merit this time!”

“I have a name, you know. Why do you keep calling me ‘coach’?” Song Zhong scowled at my teasing nickname.

Every time I’d respond cheekily that I wasn’t deliberately choosing it—whoever agreed to help got that title—leaving Song Zhong exasperated.

“By the way, Coach, you still haven’t told me how you broke through the spirits’ illusions,” I asked curiously, a question I’d posed several times. Each time, he gave the same answer: his willpower was unshakeable; the spirits’ tricks couldn’t deceive him.

Since he was reluctant to elaborate, I didn’t press further. Still, I was certain this guy might really be cut out for our line of work. Grandpa always said that while it’s easy to say you have strong willpower, embodying it is extremely difficult, especially under certain illusions. Grandpa Gu Dongfeng’s steadfastness was shaped by his era and experiences. That Song Zhong could achieve it proved he possessed a tenacious spirit.

“If you spend your time guessing about me, you’d be better off thinking how to get more business. If all else fails, you can teach me some skills,” Song Zhong joked.

Hearing that, I quickly waved him off. “You’re wrong. With you around, I’m never short of business.”

Pausing, I added, “As for teaching, many things come from daily practice.”

Just then, my phone rang. It was Song Baoguo. Glancing at Song Zhong, I answered, “Hello, Mr. Song.”

Baoguo’s voice was urgent, almost incoherent. From his words, I gathered someone was missing—Song Chao. He asked me to come to his home immediately.

I wanted to say that looking for a missing person was no use contacting me—better to seek Prince Hao. But judging by his tone, this was no simple disappearance.

Hanging up, I packed my things and said to Song Zhong, “Business is coming. Are you coming?”

Before Baoguo could speak, I continued, “Your brother’s missing. Your dad called me.”

“Missing people should be reported to the police. What use is coming to our shop?” Song Zhong’s words resonated with me, but I couldn’t pass up a chance to make money.

“I’m going with you. This is business—no family sentiment.”

Smiling, I grabbed the electric scooter keys and tossed my backpack to Song Zhong. After he locked the door, I wheeled the scooter out. Song Zhong sat behind me, still insisting I get a driver’s license. He offered to buy a vehicle for the shop if I was short on money.

“I’ll wait outside. You go in,” he said.

Once we arrived at Song’s house, I was surprised Song Zhong wouldn’t enter. I glanced at him and didn’t push. “Alright, call me if anything.”

Taking back my backpack and handing him the keys, I strode into the house.

Song Baoguo looked at me anxiously, frequently glancing behind me. I understood what he meant but said nothing. “Uncle Song, stop looking around. Tell me what happened. How did Song Chao go missing? Why haven’t you called the police?”

His face was full of sorrow, eyes moist. “Why is my Chao so unlucky? He just survived one disaster.”

At that moment, Baoguo pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to me.

Curious, I took it and emptied its contents. Inside were a series of photographs.

As I examined each one, my eyes widened. They showed me fighting Zhang Sheng, facing He Chuan with Captain Cui, standing beside Uncle Li’s corpse—photos from every incident I had handled afterward.

Most importantly, there was one of Yu Nie, battered and bound to an iron chair.

Chapter 107: The Photos in the Envelope—free reading provided by Master Shuoshuao Nanfang’s “Those Years I Worked in Funeral Services,” updated fastest for your convenience. Be sure to bookmark to catch the latest chapters!