The Nine Clans’ Eternal Life Calamity

On a rainy night in an antique shop, Qi Bai was polishing a small bronze tripod with a soft cloth. Thunder rumbled outside, and raindrops pelted the bluestone street with a sharp patter. He glanced up at the old-fashioned clock on the wall. It was 2:15 a.m. Nobody should have been visiting at this hour, yet the doorbell rang out unexpectedly.

“Who comes by this late...” Qi Bai frowned, set down his work, and headed for the door.

A middle-aged man stood outside, soaked to the skin, clutching an oilcloth-wrapped bundle tightly to his chest. Water ran down his cheeks, impossible to tell apart from sweat, but the terror in his eyes was unmistakable.