Tiger scratched his head. "On TV, they always mention executions at 'midday,' but I don't really know what time that is exactly."
"Midday, or 'wu shi san ke,' is what we now know as 11:45 a.m. Think about it—wasn't that the time when the wailing voices appeared today?" Lu Fei's eyes glimmered with realization.
"Hey! You're right!" Tiger's eyes widened in surprise.
"In ancient times, executions were held at this hour because it was when the sun's yang energy was at its peak, which would prevent the executioner from being haunted by spirits," Lu Fei explained calmly.
"But this blade is a dull knife. The condemned suffered greatly during their prolonged deaths, and though their spirits dissipated, their resentment lingered on the blade."
"Over time, the accumulated resentment would surge forth at midday. The spirits themselves feared the sunlight and couldn't appear during the day, but their resentment was unaffected."
Tiger asked, "Then why does Little Qiang's spirit appear at night?"
"Because he died at night. But the blade's killing aura doesn't differentiate between day and night, which is why Liang the shopkeeper fell victim even during the night."
"Ah, I see!" Tiger finally understood and broke into a grin. "Now that you've figured out the blade's harmful pattern, does that mean there's a better way to deal with it?"
"Yes, there's a simple method. But we need to find the farmer who sold the blade to Liang. Tiger, can you head to the detention center again?"
"No need. Liang kept a ledger with the address and phone number of his acquisitions. I'll go get it."
At this point, Tiger was no longer afraid of the supposedly haunted Duobao Pavilion. He rushed over, found Liang's ledger, and located the address and contact information for the farmer who sold the blade.
Lu Fei immediately called for a car.
Braving the drizzle, the two took three hours to reach the farmer's house.
Lu Fei paid the farmer three thousand yuan in exchange for three drops of blood from his middle finger, which he then smeared onto the Ghost-Headed Blade.
The farmer had no idea what they were doing, but he was happy to earn the money and cooperated willingly.
"Thank you, sir!"
On the return trip, Lu Fei held the blade confidently.
Clearly, the threat posed by the cursed blade had been nullified.
"Boss, what's the story behind this? Why does smearing some blood work?" Tiger asked, still bewildered but amazed.
"It's called bloodline suppression! Think about it—why was the blade dormant when it was with the farmer but turned deadly in Liang's hands?"
"It's because the farmer is a descendant of the executioner, carrying his bloodline. Ghosts and lingering resentment fear those who killed them. With the bloodline of the executioner to suppress it, the blade dared not act up."
"The principle of all things having their counterbalance applies here."
Hearing this, Tiger felt as though his head was tingling, swelling with newfound knowledge.
The lore and taboos surrounding cursed objects were indeed vast and profound.
Back at the pawnshop.
Whether day or night, the Ghost-Headed Blade remained silent, and neither Lu Fei nor Tiger heard the wailing of resentment again.
Once the weather cleared up, they set up the mirrors in the courtyard to let the blade bask in sunlight.
In less than half an hour, all the killing aura had dissipated.
The cursed blade was finally subdued.
That evening, Lu Fei and Tiger took the blade and some ritual offerings—incense, candles, and paper money—to Duobao Pavilion.
"Madam, Little Qiang has found peace. Please rest in peace as well."
Lu Fei laid the blade on the ground, lit the incense, and burned the paper money, bowing solemnly toward the courtyard.
"Madam, I'm burning extra paper money for you, hoping you and Little Qiang can live well in the afterlife," Tiger said, eyes misty as he fed more paper into the flames.
Back when he worked at Duobao Pavilion, the madam had always treated him kindly.
Little Qiang, though mischievous and fond of playing pranks on him, was endearing in his own way and would often share his favorite lollipops.
Fortunately, with the cursed blade now tamed, they could at least do something for the mother and son.
In the shadowy corner of the courtyard, the faint figure of a headless woman appeared. She bowed deeply to them before fading away.
This was how Evil Pawnshop conducted business with the dead.
The dead would pawn their possessions to the shop, which in turn helped fulfill their last wishes.
Lu Fei felt a warm surge in his lower abdomen.
Could the gratitude of ghosts boost one's spiritual power?
He was genuinely surprised.
He had taken on this task out of compassion, never expecting it to come with such a reward.
Who knew when the next night customer would appear.
Afterward, Lu Fei and Tiger made another visit to the detention center.
When Liang learned that his wife and son had found peace, he wept uncontrollably.
It seemed the cursed blade had caused the tragedy, but wasn't it also his greed that had brought doom upon his family?
He offered to transfer all his assets to Lu Fei, but Lu Fei refused.
The madam was now at peace, and the Ghost-Headed Blade belonged to Evil Pawnshop. The transaction was complete; there was no need for more.
Yet Liang insisted.
Through tears, he said, "All my life, I chased after money! I even engaged in shady deals for it."
"The farmer had warned me that his ancestors said the blade should only stay in the family for protection and should never be sold, as it could bring misfortune to outsiders."
"I didn't listen and forced the sale for a bit of money, only to ruin my own family."
"It's too late for regrets now. I only wish to atone when I meet them in the afterlife. Please, accept this token of my gratitude. Don't refuse."
But Lu Fei still declined, and when Liang offered it to Tiger, Tiger hesitated but also refused.
In the end, Lu Fei suggested that Liang donate it to those in need.
It would be an act of goodwill, perhaps granting his family peace in the next life.
As they left the detention center, Tiger felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted. His steps were noticeably lighter.
"Boss, today I feel like drinking."
"Then let's drink! We'll drink together."
Back in the city.
They found a food stall near the antique street, ordered some snacks to go with their drinks, and sat down to relax.
The rain pattered outside.
There weren't many people at the food stall, and the TV was playing news of recent disappearances.
"Tiger, Liang must have made quite a bit over the years, right?"
Sipping his drink, Lu Fei looked at Tiger with a smile.
"I don't know the exact amount, but it should be at least over a million," Tiger replied.
"That's no small sum. Don't you regret not taking the money?"
"Boss, funny thing is, I do regret it a little. Honestly, I've never seen that much money in my life," Tiger laughed at himself.
"But if I had taken it, I'd probably never sleep soundly again. I want to make money, sure, but I want it to come from my own hard work, not from taking advantage of a tragedy."
"Cheers."
Lu Fei said no more and shared a good meal and drink with Tiger.
Back at the shop.
Lu Fei recorded the transaction in his ledger and stored the Ghost-Headed Blade in the storeroom.
With its killing aura and resentment dispelled, the blade could no longer harm anyone. It was now a talisman that could be used for protection.
Some wealthy collectors liked to have such items in their antique rooms.
Antiques often carried residual energy, and having a blade like this on hand could ward off misfortune and ensure safety.
The day after storing the blade, a mysterious man in sunglasses showed up at the shop.
He opened with a direct request to buy the Ghost-Headed Blade.