Chapter Thirty-Eight: Leverage

The old mystic Sun Yiyuan parked his car in the lot and then led Shen Chang’an into the residential complex.

“The deceased was a resident here, had lived in the community for two or three years. The people around here still remember him…” Sun Yiyuan quickly briefed him on the situation, but Shen Chang’an frowned deeply.

“Daoist Sun…”

“Just call me Old Sun,” Sun Yiyuan said with a smile.

Shen Chang’an let out a sigh and replied, “Old Sun, solving cases really isn’t my job. I’m not a professional. If you want me to find the murderer, that’s a bit much for me.”

Sun Yiyuan nodded. “I know, but I really have no other choice, so I have to turn to you.”

Shen Chang’an’s frown deepened, his tone puzzled. “I don’t get it—what exactly do you want from me?”

Sun Yiyuan glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Mr. Shen, just stay in this county for a few days. All expenses are on me, all right?”

Shen Chang’an looked at him, a bit perplexed. “You want me to stay here… Is there someone you want to protect?”

Sun Yiyuan’s face showed a touch of embarrassment, but he nodded. “Yes. If it were a normal situation, I’d… Sigh, Mr. Shen, I’m begging you. I’ll give you a hundred thousand—no, two hundred thousand—just for these few days. Please, you must stay until the Bureau of Paranormal Affairs can spare someone.”

Shen Chang’an waved his hand. “Enough. We agreed earlier on fifty thousand, and that’s what it’ll be. I don’t do price gouging. But if there’s anything you’re hiding from me, I’ll walk away and not take your money.”

“Of course, no problem. Come, let’s go to his place first, and I’ll fill you in on the details later.”

Shen Chang’an followed Sun Yiyuan to the building where the victim had lived. The two of them climbed up and soon arrived at the very spot the man had died.

“Mr. Shen, take a look?”

Shen Chang’an frowned. The corpse had already been removed, but the bloodstains remained, uncleaned. There were no other obvious traces, and it was clear no one else had been here since.

Seeing little from the scene, Shen Chang’an simply pulled out the Jade Dragon Talisman, bringing it close to his nose for a sniff.

His sense of smell was swiftly heightened. Scents flooded in: blood, an overwhelming tang of blood, and… a faint trace of something ghostly.

“Old Sun, you were right. There’s something strange in the air here,” Shen Chang’an said quickly, shutting off his enhanced senses—the stench was truly nauseating.

“I knew it,” Sun Yiyuan said nervously. “So what now? Mr. Shen, can you figure out anything else?”

Shen Chang’an shook his head and sighed. “All I can say is that it was the work of some ghostly being. As for exactly what kind of ghost… only the ghost itself would know.”

He couldn’t help but wonder if he should bring one or two from his own household of spirits to help investigate. Their perspective would surely be more effective than his own.

But alas, he had no way to keep ghosts with him for long. Without something to anchor them outside the house, they would soon dissipate. So this idea could only remain a thought.

As he pondered, a stern voice suddenly sounded from outside the door: “What are you doing here?”

Shen Chang’an turned to see a striking policewoman standing in the doorway, frowning at the two of them.

She looked to be in her early thirties: sharp, capable, her movements radiating an air of authority and efficiency.

Shen Chang’an glanced at her, but didn’t pay much mind. After all, Old Sun was an officially recognized agent—such matters should be handled by him.

“Xia, we’re just here to have a look, nothing more,” Sun Yiyuan said nervously, almost ingratiating.

Shen Chang’an found this a bit odd. Was this old mystic really an official agent? Or was he bluffing?

“Just having a look?” The policewoman’s expression darkened, her voice sharp. “Do you know where you are? This is a crime scene!”

Sun Yiyuan hurried to explain. “Xia, don’t worry—your boss has already put me in charge of this case. I just brought a friend along to see if we could come up with some ideas.”

“Come up with ideas?” Her face grew colder, seemingly about to scold them, when her phone rang from her pocket.

Face still stern, she answered, said a few words, then looked back at Shen Chang’an and the old mystic, her tone still annoyed. “Fine, look all you want! Just don’t disturb the scene!”

With that, she stormed out, not sparing them another glance.

Shen Chang’an was left bewildered, faintly sensing that this woman and Old Sun didn’t get along—and in fact, Old Sun seemed rather afraid of her.

Seeing her leave in a huff, Sun Yiyuan looked as if he wanted to chase after her but didn’t dare, and could only stand there, frowning dejectedly.

Shen Chang’an couldn't help but ask, “Hey, Old Sun, aren’t you with the Bureau of Paranormal Affairs? Why do you let her boss you around? She’s got something on you?”

Sun Yiyuan said nothing, just lowered his head.

Shen Chang’an was taken aback, then exclaimed in surprise, “No way—she really does have something on you?”

Sun Yiyuan’s expression was complicated, tinged with embarrassment, but in the end he nodded.

Now Shen Chang’an was truly curious. Old Sun was a wily old hand, able to deceive even tycoon Chen Siyang without batting an eye. How could someone else have dirt on him? Was there a story here?

“Come on, Old Sun, mind telling me? Who is she? How did she get the upper hand on you?”

After a few moments of bitter laughter, Sun Yiyuan finally answered, “Who else could she be? She’s my own daughter.”

Shen Chang’an stared in shock. “What? Your daughter?”

Sun Yiyuan nodded miserably, looking defeated. “What else could I do? If she weren’t my daughter, would I be willing to spend two hundred grand to keep you here? What can I do? I told her to stay out of it, but she just won’t listen.”

“You can’t even control your own daughter?” Shen Chang’an was baffled.

Sun Yiyuan looked even more embarrassed. “I only found out I had a daughter when she turned twenty.”

Shen Chang’an paused, then rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Serves you right!”