Choices

The Director noticed Harry looked a bit confused, so he led him to the sign displaying the staff rules.

"Every rule here exists for a reason—a lesson learned. Violating them may not seem serious, but if you gamble and lose, the consequences could be far worse than you can imagine."

"Do you think this situation was clearly not a coincidence? Then why did I still arrange it this way?"

Harry gave the Director a surprised look. He didn't entirely understand, yet it seemed the Director couldn't explain much here in the funeral home at this hour.

After a moment, Harry could only come up with one answer.

"Between two evils, choose the lesser one."

"Correct. I still don't fully understand why a mere corpse could move around in the old morgue. But since it only took the wooden mask and didn't cause further disruptions, I'll follow established procedures to handle it."

"My first goal isn't to solve the immediate problem—it's to prevent it from escalating."

"Also, as the Director, at least during working hours, I have an obligation to ensure your safety."

"The incident at the hospital was something you might have been able to handle, but internal issues at the funeral home? Don't take unnecessary risks with those."

"And even if I wanted to explain it all, this isn't the time or place to do so."

Harry nodded, indicating he understood.

His approach was, in truth, simpler and more direct—when there's a problem, you go and solve it.

But it was clear the Director's perspective was different. He aimed to ensure that solving one issue wouldn't trigger an even bigger one.

Harry followed the Director out of the old office building and glanced at the funeral home, shrouded in shadows.

He began to grasp that there was likely a far bigger issue here, one that went well beyond the wooden mask or an unruly client.

Together, they walked out to catch up with the client, who was still slowly shuffling along. Despite all this time, the old man had yet to make it through the middle courtyard.

At that moment, the Director's phone began to vibrate.

———

Three kilometers from the funeral home, a line of cargo trucks sat idling on the highway. Traffic had already thinned since many informed drivers had chosen to detour.

Then, a newly arrived truck in the back broke from the line, revving its engine and speeding directly forward.

Weighing tens of tons and accelerating at full force, there was no one daring, or even able, to stop it; all they could do was watch as it blasted through the checkpoint.

"Someone's breaking through…"

———

Two to three hundred kilometers away in Serene City, Kai Qiyan wore a grim expression, his gaze fixed on a distant chemical plant.

Intense gunfire sounded from afar, and occasionally, flashes of electricity lit up the darkened skyline. The potent Yang energy in the air was nearly tangible, surging.

Behind him, modified engineering vehicles crept forward. The high-powered floodlights on their roofs burned brightly, illuminating the surroundings as if it were broad daylight.

The scorching glow twisted the air faintly, and the nearby weeds looked ready to ignite.

Three Daoist priests stood further back, each maintaining a solemn expression. One stepped in the Big Dipper formation, holding a ritual sword and chanting incantations, drawing in the fierce Yang energy to bolster their forces.

Every weapon and vehicle in this place bore glowing inscriptions, and boxes of ammunition became infused with this intense Yang energy.

Two more priests gathered piles of rice, reciting passages to dispel resentment and malevolent energy. Rising incense smoke wove like a long bridge, extending toward the chemical plant.

Near the plant, in a sewage pool, waves churned as humanoid figures made of sludge began to emerge, charging forward.

But they didn't make it far before relentless firepower forced them back, and under the harsh Yang energy, the oppressive aura in the area evaporated and dispersed.

This was what the Blazing Sun Division specialized in. They feared no evil rooted in one place. If they couldn't clear it, it just meant they needed more firepower.

It was the wandering, elusive, or individually powerful entities that truly challenged the Blazing Sun Division.

Kai's face was stern as he received a fresh report over his earpiece.

"A strange walking corpse at the Decheng funeral home had somehow managed his way up from the old morgue."

"And a truck had forced its way through a checkpoint, headed in the direction of the funeral home."

Today, as they tracked down clues at the Serene City chemical plant, they'd stumbled upon records related to a Soul Devouring Beast. At the same time, a sealed sewage pool had started spilling out these ghostly creatures in massive numbers.

He'd anticipated leaks on the Soul Devouring Beast long ago. With large-scale operations, more people inevitably meant higher risks of exposure.

But in the records found at the plant today, the appearance of this intel was less than a day after he'd learned of it.

In other words, the information hadn't leaked since he came to Southward County and mobilized the workforce—it had already been leaked beforehand.

And that was the most troubling part.

Either someone present back then had betrayed them, or some individual or entity with special abilities had stolen the information.

Or there was one final, remote possibility: someone here had detected the Soul Devouring Beast upon its arrival, as it had indeed appeared within this area.

Kai suspected the records he'd found were left intentionally by the other side. But he couldn't afford to gamble on it. His primary mission in this County was the Soul Devouring Beast.

The catastrophe it caused in the Southern Hemisphere was unforgettable. Even reading the reports made it clear that the Soul Devouring Beast was in a class far beyond the Flame Demon.

The Soul Devouring Beast had to be the top priority.

For now, the funeral home's situation remained manageable, making it of lower priority.

But he could tell—those stirring up trouble in the Serenity funeral home were linked to the ones here. Even so, it had to be this way.

Others could act recklessly and gamble on the consequences. He couldn't.

———

The Director answered the call and exchanged updates on the situation.

Frowning, he glanced at the old man still heading toward the gate and quickly strode in that direction.

Just as he reached the entrance, he spotted a truck with its high beams on, barreling toward them from the left.

The truck shattered a row of barricades, snapped two trees, and roared past the gate of the funeral home, finally skidding a hundred meters off the road and into the fields.

The fully loaded truck cut through the air, leaving a fierce gust in its wake.

The Director stood rooted at the entrance, his face dark.

If the driver hadn't veered slightly at the last second, that truck would've crashed straight through the funeral home's gates.

This was an open threat.

They were being forced to either back down, or next time, the truck would crash right into the funeral home, leaving chaos in its wake.

The Director stood at the gate, quietly waiting for the walking corpse to appear.

Harry trailed beside the masked corpse, keeping a respectful distance. The corpse ignored everyone, holding the wooden mask and pressing forward with brisk steps.

When it finally reached the gate, and the wound on its neck started to mend, Harry, standing a few meters away, finally heard the corpse muttering under its breath.

"I must help my son… I must help my son…"

The moment Harry caught the words, chills ran down his spine.

The murmur was faint, but there was a resolve in it that seemed unbreakable, as if it would go to any length to achieve this purpose.

A flash of insight struck Harry's mind.

Neither he, nor the Director, nor even the Blazing Sun Division had ever considered the possibility that this might be related to the old man's son.

After all, on the very first night, the Blazing Sun Division had already investigated. The old man's three children were all ordinary people, with nothing unusual in their backgrounds, records, or behavior. There was even an eyewitness who saw the old man trip down the stairs to his death.

Yet Harry began to recall certain things.

Yesterday, he'd overheard his colleagues mentioning that the old man's youngest son worked locally as a rideshare driver.

An image appeared in his mind—a man with rimless glasses and a warm smile.

"My father passed yesterday, and the funeral's here tomorrow."

"Want me to wait for you?"

Harry took a steadying breath, 'No doubt about it—it was him!'

Scenes from the night before flashed through Harry's mind.

The man had clearly waited near his place, knowing his habit of calling a car when going out.

With few taxis running so late, and most ride-hailing drivers already off-duty, he'd be the only one able to take the call.

Even if someone else somehow took the booking, he'd surely have a backup plan.

And he likely knew much more than he let on. He didn't need to watch the funeral home himself. As long as he confirmed Harry had left for the funeral home in a rush, he'd know that something had happened there.

And after picking him up, he could just drive him here without any obstacles.