Wang Wende stared at the flesh-and-blood urn in my hand, frozen in place, clearly not expecting me to agree so readily. He stood there for quite a while, too stunned to reach out for it.
But Wang Zhaoyang's eyes lit up the moment he saw the urn.
He knew this was the only thing that could save his life.
As long as he got his hands on the flesh, and found someone to dispel the vengeful spirits inside the urn, he could finally be free.
Back when someone had set up a family-destroying curse at Li Na's grave, they had eventually taken my suggestion and transferred the urn's backlash onto Wang Zhaoyang.
The backlash couldn't be transferred to just anyone—it had to be someone connected to the curse's arrangement.
So the feng shui master had no other choice.
Wang Zhaoyang stared fixedly at the urn in my hands, trembling all over, his face ashen. Several mangled, incomplete spirits clung to him, endlessly devouring his life force and yang energy.
For him, every moment was torture—like thousands of ants gnawing away at his flesh.
Soon, his eyes shifted from the urn to me, turning resentful.
"Wu Jie… back in school, I never realized you were this capable. I never thought you'd scheme against me."
"Wang Zhaoyang, you know exactly what you've done. You can take this, but not for free. When someone does wrong, they pay the price," I said with a smile.
Wang Wende quickly caught on, speaking excitedly.
"Master Wu, I understand the rules. I've been prepared for this for a long time."
With that, he waved his hand, and someone brought over a leather suitcase and handed it to me.
I gave Uncle Hu a subtle signal. He took the suitcase, opened it, and saw it was filled to the brim with cash—at least a million.
He glanced at me with a puzzled look; he hadn't expected me to just hand over the urn.
Once Uncle Hu had accepted the money, Wang Wende took the urn from me and cradled it in his arms.
He grinned. "So that's what all your scheming was about—just to get a bit more money? Honestly, you could've come straight to me. The Wang family is well-known in Yanbei. This amount is nothing to us. No need for all the mind games."
I simply smiled and said nothing.
Now that Wang Zhaoyang had the urn, he became even more arrogant.
"Wu Jie, all you wanted was money, right? Fine, take it. But watch yourself—don't end up dead before you can spend it. You'll get what's coming to you…"
"Watch your mouth, brat!" Uncle Hu's eyes widened, ready to strike, but I stopped him.
The father and son carried the urn toward the car waiting outside.
Just as they turned away, I called out, "Mr. Wang, be careful with that. Hold it steady—if it breaks, the consequences will be dire."
"No need for your concern," Wang Wende replied, glancing back with a cold, mocking smile.
I knew what he was thinking—that I had helped Li Na's family just to get my hands on their money, since the Li family was too poor to be worth targeting.
In truth, I had to play it this way. Without taking something from the Wang family, everything else would have looked suspiciously deliberate.
Wang Zhaoyang, unable to hold back his excitement, snatched the urn from his father's hands and hugged it tightly.
"Dad, hurry and get someone to help me! I can't stand this anymore—it's too painful!"
"Don't worry, son. Once we get home, we'll fix everything. Just hold on tight to that thing—don't drop it," Wang Wende reassured him.
Someone had already opened the car door, but as Wang Zhaoyang was about to get in, a sudden gust of cold wind swept past them, making father and son shiver.
"Wang Zhaoyang… you made me suffer so much…"
The chilling voice came from nearby.
Wang Zhaoyang turned toward the sound—and there floated Li Na's vengeful spirit, glaring at him with pure malice.
She still appeared as she had in death—soaked in blood, skin deathly pale.
Only the two of us could see her.
Her presence told me the matter was nearly settled.
I motioned to Uncle Hu to take the money inside and shut the gates.
Now that they had the urn, whatever happened next had nothing to do with me.
I climbed onto the roof to watch.
The moment Wang Zhaoyang saw Li Na again, he froze in terror, while she drifted toward him, inch by inch.
"Li Na… it's my fault. I was wrong! Please, let me go…" he pleaded, stumbling backward with the urn in his arms.
"What's wrong, son?" Wang Wende called, rushing to catch up.
But it was already too late.
Li Na's spirit suddenly surged forward, attaching itself to Wang Zhaoyang.
He shuddered, his mouth curling into a strange smile. Then, raising the urn high, he smashed it down toward the ground.
"Son, stop! You can't break that thing!" Wang Wende cried, nearly losing his soul from fright. If it shattered, his son was doomed.
His men also rushed toward Wang Zhaoyang in a panic.
Crack!
The urn hit the ground and shattered, releasing an overpowering stench.
Everyone who approached turned pale instantly. Some vomited on the spot.
Even Wang Wende had to clutch his mouth, gagging violently.
From my perch on the roof, I watched the chaos unfold, then glanced at Li Na's spirit beside me.
"Li Na, your revenge is complete."