Pan Huilian truly was a breathtaking beauty.
She stood there quietly, eyes like they held a pool of spring water, and without meaning to, Song Yinjian felt ripples stir in his heart.
He steadied himself at once and asked, "Madam Pan, how do you plan to handle Mister Zhang's funeral arrangements?"
A look of grief flashed across Pan Huilian's face. Her voice trembled, thick with a choked sob.
"I have no other wishes now… I only hope my husband can be laid to rest as soon as possible, so his soul may find peace sooner."
"Rest assured," Song Yinjian said with confidence. "My service is a full package—fast and thorough. I guarantee Mister Zhang will depart in peace."
Pan Huilian's eyes lit up with surprise. She stepped forward and seized his hand with her pale, jade-like fingers.
"Boss Song, thank you so much."
As she spoke, she blinked those alluring eyes at him and gave a look full of implication. Yet to her surprise, Song Yinjian calmly withdrew his hand, his expression all business.
"Madam Pan, let's discuss the fees first. My senior sister and I are disciples of the adepti. The mora we earn is used to support adeptal matters, so the cost may be high. I hope you can understand."
A barely perceptible trace of disdain flickered in Pan Huilian's eyes.
"Boss Song, as long as my husband can be buried quickly, I'm willing to pay no matter how much mora it takes."
"Five million mora," Song Yinjian said. "Two million as an advance deposit."
The moment the words fell, the handsome steward standing nearby couldn't hold back and blurted out, "Five million mora?! Why don't you just rob us? Wangsheng Funeral Parlor only charges one million for this!"
Song Yinjian replied blandly, "Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is indeed a top choice with an excellent reputation. Director Hu Tao is especially capable—she can even personally escort a deceased person's soul to the afterlife."
Pan Huilian's brows shot up. She turned and snapped at the steward, "Zhang Feng, shut your mouth! I'm discussing important matters with Boss Song—since when is it your place to interrupt?"
Zhang Feng didn't dare say more, but he glared at Song Yinjian with resentment.
After scolding him, Pan Huilian instantly switched back to her soft, delicate demeanor, her voice turning gentle again.
"Boss Song, my husband always respected the adepti and the gods. If he knew that his funeral would be handled with such care by adeptal disciples, he would be more than willing. Mora isn't something we need to consider."
She paused, then instructed Zhang Feng, "Go to the storeroom and bring two million mora. Quickly—don't delay Boss Song in arranging my husband's affairs."
Zhang Feng was unwilling to the core, but he could only turn and obey.
At that moment, Song Yinjian angled his body slightly and spoke softly to the silent Shenhe beside him.
"Senior Sister, I'll be relying on you next."
Shenhe gave a small nod, then walked to Mister Zhang's body. She raised her pale hand and flicked her fingers lightly.
In an instant, Cryo gathered from the air as if summoned by an unseen force, rushing toward her palm. The ice elements intertwined and fused, and before long, a crystal-clear ice coffin formed—transparent like polished crystal—sealing Mister Zhang's body inside.
Cold mist threaded through the air, yet the ice coffin carried a solemn, dignified stillness.
Pan Huilian couldn't help but exclaim from the heart, "As expected of adeptal disciples—extraordinary methods!"
Not long after, Zhang Feng returned, hauling a heavy bag brimming with mora. He wore a stiff, dark expression as he shoved it toward Song Yinjian.
Song Yinjian took it, then immediately handed it to Shenhe. Leaning closer, he whispered a few words by her ear.
Warm breath brushed the shell of her ear like a feather, ticklish enough to make Shenhe's fair cheeks flush faintly—so subtle it was almost imperceptible.
When Song Yinjian finished speaking, Shenhe lifted the bag of mora and left the main hall with light, swift steps.
Pan Huilian waited—expecting Song Yinjian to begin the next steps of the funeral rites. But Song Yinjian did nothing of the sort.
He unhurriedly sat down in a chair, closed his eyes, and began resting as if he had all the time in the world.
Time passed.
Seeing he still hadn't moved, Pan Huilian finally couldn't hold back her anxiety. She walked up to him and urged softly, "Boss Song… please, let my husband be laid to rest as soon as possible."
Song Yinjian opened his eyes, waved a hand, and said leisurely, "No rush, Madam Pan. Mister Zhang has already been placed in an ice coffin. Even if he stays here for ten days or half a month, the body won't rot in the slightest."
Pan Huilian's anxiety flared instantly. Her voice rose without her noticing.
"My husband gave special instructions before he died—he only wanted to be buried quickly. All the complicated rites can be reduced as much as possible. Boss Song, please begin at once!"
Song Yinjian merely shook his head again, his gaze carrying a meaning that sank slowly into her bones.
"If Mister Zhang truly passed away today, everything could naturally be handled according to your wishes."
He paused.
"But he died yesterday."
Pan Huilian's face changed violently. The color drained from her cheeks, leaving her as pale as paper. Panic flickered in her eyes.
"Boss Song… what… what do you mean by that?"
She tried to hold herself steady, but her darting gaze betrayed her fear.
Song Yinjian looked at the young widow before him, beautiful as a flower in full bloom. Regret crossed his eyes, and he let out a soft sigh.
"You should have been a fine woman… why become a thief?" The words were light—yet they struck like a hammer.
Pan Huilian's body trembled.
"Boss Song… as long as you help this humble woman, you can do anything you want to me…"
Her voice turned soft and clinging, drenched in temptation, as if she were trying to scatter a sweet, intoxicating haze through the air and lure him into it.
Song Yinjian examined her for a moment, and quickly reached a conclusion.
This scenery, no matter how lovely, was still far from comparing to his two senior sisters—and his master.
He shook his head with a trace of pity, his expression calm. "Madam Pan, I can't afford such 'fortune.'"
Pan Huilian's eyes reddened as she cried out pitifully, "My lord… why must you be so heartless? Do you truly feel not even the slightest pity for me?"
As she sobbed, she secretly shot a glance behind Song Yinjian.
Zhang Feng received the signal. A vicious smile curled on his lips as he quietly reached toward his waist and drew a razor-sharp dagger.