He'd actually come down. Step by step, slowly approaching.
His gait was strange—not the rhythm of a normal person walking, but halting and jerky, like someone remotely controlling a puppet. Or a teenage girl wearing high heels for the first time.
Ling's system finally recovered. She looked up at the boy. A line of red warning text automatically popped into her vision:
?? [ Warning: Deep Mental Interference Detected ]
▌ Status:
Host consciousness being forcibly synchronized
████████████?????? 68%
▌ Interference Source:
Hungry Ghost Realm · Dharma-Devouring Ghost
（Karmic Weight: Analyzing ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?）
▌ Threat Level:
?? [ CRITICAL ]
The boy stared silently at their position, that sinister smile hanging at the corner of his mouth.
Wynn, half-dead as he was, still managed to comfort his new colleague: "It's fine. He can't see us, can't touch us. Don't be scared."
Ling thought.
The boy adjusted his glasses, eyes fixed on where Ling and Wynn were positioned, continuing to close in.
Ten meters… eight meters… five meters…
Suddenly, the boy stopped. With a , he dropped to his knees and began chanting in an eerie cadence.
She could vaguely make out pompous phrases like "Lord of the Endless Night" and "Ghost-Eye General."
Ling rolled her eyes.
Titles like that? Every patron at her tavern back home loved to brag about theirs. They'd even get into brawls over who had the cooler-sounding epithet.
Still, hearing it here felt strangely familiar.
Wynn, however, forced himself upright, sensing the increasingly dense aura of malevolent yin. This was bad.
"This guy's no joke," he whispered urgently to Ling. "Quick—run while you still can!"
But Ling just patted his shoulder, then leaned back against the car window, arms crossed, watching the boy's confident performance with genuine interest.
The kneeling boy's pupils began to change, as if ink were slowly filling them from the inside.
Then the system blared another glaring red alert:
?? 【 SYSTEM MANDATORY WARNING 】
● Detection: High-risk karmic entity
● Assessment: Current combat capability: ??
● Analysis: Salvation feasibility [ <0.005% ]
?? Recommended Action:
?? [ RUN ] ??
● Status: "Survival Mode" activated
Switching to host lower-body view…
Please mind your escape route…
Loading complete:
? Adrenaline maxed
Ling felt this useless celestial maiden shell suddenly stiffen. Then a surge of burning impulse exploded from her heart, forcibly dispersing her earlier fatigue.
Her vision lurched violently, as if someone had ripped away a filter.
The boy before her—no, that wasn't a boy anymore.
It was a massive, writhing thing that resembled an eyeball.
Its entire surface was covered in dense protrusions. At first glance they looked like disgusting blisters—but on closer inspection, each one was a tiny eye.
Every single one bloodshot, spinning frantically, scanning in all directions.
Ling's scalp went numb.
The thing began shuffling forward.
With each step, it paused in that uncanny way. Even though nothing lay ahead, it would extend a few eyes toward the empty space, pressing close to the void and probing repeatedly. Like a hound sniffing. Like a blind man feeling his way. Like… some creature desperately lacking any sense of security.
Finally, it crept to within thirty centimeters of the car.
The mass of eyeballs slowly "unfolded," stretching upward, its shadow engulfing the car's roof.
Then it spoke. The voice squeezed out from the gaps between those eyes, like hundreds of people whispering at once:
"Ha ha ha… I knew it…"
"Would land right here…"
"How convenient… for this king's… meal…"
All its eyes narrowed simultaneously, fixing on Wynn sprawled across the car roof. They radiated a sickly ecstasy.
"Once I consume you… this king shall pierce the secrets of the Nine Heavens…"
"Become the true—Ghost-Eye General—"
"Let's see which of those fools dares defy me then!!"
"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!"
Ling watched this psychotic episode with a blank expression.
But then again, wasn't this what those things in the Hungry Ghost Realm obsessed over every single day? If they weren't chasing something, fixating on something, they'd soon crumble like dried sand in that desolate wasteland.
The "General" didn't spare Ling a single glance. In his view, she was nothing but a worthless shell with zero spiritual energy fluctuation.
She had to admit—this celestial shell's concealment was genuinely impressive. Back in her hometown, those creatures would spot her from a distance and scatter. So boring. But this one… now this was refreshing.
The hungry ghost seemed well aware that "villains die from monologuing." Without further preamble, he seized Wynn by the throat, poised to tear in—then found Ling still standing there like an eyesore. He shoved her aside with one hand, sending her stumbling.
Ling's eyes flew wide. Her long lashes fluttered furiously with rage. Without thinking, she swung her palm in a slap—
That was the plan.
But the instant her palm grazed the possessed boy's cheek, an icy, absolute vibration shot through her fingertips. The force behind her blow slammed into an invisible wall of steel.
In a fraction of a second, her entire right arm's nerves felt pierced by countless frozen needles. The muscles that had been tensed for the strike spasmed in reverse, wrenching her arm back so violently her elbow nearly bent the wrong way—saved only by this frail body's pathetic lack of strength.
As a bone-deep weakness flooded through her, the system notification tolled in her mind like a funeral bell:
?? Abnormal kinetic conflict detected: Target identified as "Protected Mortal." Right palm resistance exceeded threshold. Force discharge in progress.
?? Motion correction in progress…
?? Activating "Love's Gentle Touch" module]
Her palm went soft against her will, fingers tracing an impossibly graceful arc, until what should have been a slap transformed into a gesture brimming with compassion and tenderness—
A caress.
Those slender, pale fingers came to rest ever so gently against the possessed boy's cheek. As if brushing away a speck of dust from the corner of his eye.
Ling's hand froze there, the sticky reality of a mortal’s body temperature seeping into her palm. Disgusted and furious, she had a sudden urge to chop her own hand off.
But the Heavens weren't done with her. Under the system's compulsion, her expression melted into something teary-eyed and saintly. Her mouth opened of its own accord, and an ethereal, compassionate voice emerged:
"Drop your weapon, and earn your redemp—"
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Before she could finish, a foot slammed into her chest.
Ling went flying, crashing hard against the wall.
"Where'd this crazy priestess come from? Pah. Ruined my appetite." The ghost spat in disgust.
Wynn shouted: "Ling!"
Then his own soul was savaged by the ghost's frenzied biting, and he fell silent.
Ling lay sprawled face-down on the ground, seaweed-like hair exploding around her head, her entire body screaming with pain.
But what hurt more was her pride. She could practically hear it shattering, piece by piece.
When had she ever suffered such humiliation?
If this garbage "General" had set foot in her tavern back home, he'd have sat there obediently, too terrified to even fart.
Now here she was, a tiger fallen from the mountain, getting kicked around by dogs.
She gritted her teeth and pushed herself up from the ground.
Before she could even dismiss the notifications, another popup forced its way in.
A massive, nearly opaque advertisement, flashing obnoxiously:
?? Facing a possession problem? ??
?? Call now: 0394-8260-766
? Zhao Family Exorcism · A Thousand Years of Heritage ?
Free on-site inspection! Merit Burns at sweet prices!
Beneath it, a scrolling marquee:"Oops, too late? Don't worry! Zhao Family Exorcism offers full-service packages—sutra chanting, soul liberation, peaceful rest guaranteed, no vengeful spirits bothering you~ Call now!"
A vein throbbed at Ling's temple.
A line of cold text floated in the corner of her vision:
(This ad can be manually closed in 10 seconds)
(9… 8… 7…)
"…"
Ling felt her profanity reserves—not even half a day in the mortal realm—were already critically depleted.
She finally survived the countdown and dismissed the ad.
Looked up—Over there, the feast had already happily commenced. Ling took a deep breath and shook her head.
"Hey," she called out, her voice carrying a teeth-grinding smile. "General Whatever-Your-Name-Is, right?"
The ghost paused mid-bite and turned to look at her. Every single eye radiated naked contempt, mouth still smacking with every rhythmic chew.
Ling steadied herself, face wearing a hauntingly beautiful smile while her consciousness frantically invoked commands.
"Don't you want an appetizer first—Celestial Maiden Scatters Flowers! Come taste some concentrated love!"
A torrent of golden-pink petals saturated with "love" erupted from her palms, cascading toward the ghost in an overwhelming wave.
The ghost's movements froze. The next second—
"AAAAHHH—!!"
He thrashed like he'd been scalded, rolling frantically on the ground. Where those petals touched the possessed skin, they sizzled like red-hot branding irons pressed against flesh. On his true form, countless eyes wept tears in a frenzy.
Ling watched coldly.
The boy's face flushed crimson, veins bulging. Though not seriously injured, he was definitely enraged. His true form—originally semi-translucent like jelly—seemed to compress under invisible pressure, shrinking significantly but hardening like an iron ball.
He temporarily released Wynn and charged at Ling.
"You're asking for death!"
Ling stood her ground.
The "General" had no idea what he was lunging toward.
All he knew was—
When his starving, screaming soul dove forward, passing through this worthless flesh to quickly dispatch the annoying thing inside—
Like slamming into solid iron. A violent shockwave rippled from the depths of his soul, pain so intense he nearly fell apart. His eyes burst like overstretched bubblegum——exploding across his form.
Sensing danger, he tried to retreat back into the boy's shell—
But then came a delicate, coquettish laugh.
This wasn't Ling's intention. She'd meant to give a fierce, triumphant snarl. But this broken body automatically beautified every expression into "Celestial Maiden Mode."
"Hee hee, you came here all by yourself."
Her voice was soft and sweet, like coaxing a child.
"Now that you're here… don't leave."
The hunter had become the hunted.
The "General" plunged into endless darkness. He found himself wrapped in something, unable to move, suffocating pressure pressing in from all sides.
Then he heard an ice-cold voice— Not the coquettish maiden tone this time, but something hauntingly familiar, carrying the scent of blood:
"Well, well. If it isn't General What's-His-Face."
The "General's" soul began to tremble.
"You—you're—"
Memories surged up from the depths.
That legendary existence from the bottom of the Abyss—the one even the old ghosts dared not provoke—
"You're that Tavern Master from the Abyss depths—"
Before he could finish, Ling ignored the corrosive black miasma and, like peeling an onion, began tearing away the crimson tendrils wrapped around the ghost-eye's core, one by one.
"AAAAAAAHHH—!!"
The General let out a blood-curdling shriek. The agony of a soul being dismantled.
"Deal with it."
"Ptooey ptooey ptooey!!" He screamed while frantically changing his tune. "Sister Ling! Boss Ling! Ancestor Ling! Mercy! This little one was blind!"
Ling was usually a hunter who observed proper martial ethics. If this idiot hadn't dared to kick her today, she would have let him go peacefully.
Her tavern patrons always speculated about what made Ling's Tranquil Spirit Wine so special—how even the most berserk evil spirits would quiet down after a single sip.
The answer was simple—
The secret ingredient was herself. That tiny bit of energy that leaked from her could make any fluctuating soul instantly "crash." No logic to it. Even the slightest leak was enough to give those poor wretches a moment's peace.
In the Hungry Ghost Realm, there was common knowledge: devouring came with a price.
Consume a powerful evil spirit, and you'd have to endure its emotional noise—bone-deep hatred, resentment, unwillingness—all seeping into your soul along with the energy.
That's why most high-tier evil spirits were half-mad, split personalities standard issue, suddenly wearing someone else's face in the middle of the night not unusual at all.
But Ling was different. When she ate, her prey simply didn't struggle. Personality, memories—all entered deep sleep.
She didn't need to "immerse herself" in their melodramatic life stories. She'd only extract a bunch of dry, neutral data during digestion. Like reading an accounting ledger.
Boring, but hassle-free. Like right now.
This thing had gone completely quiet, lying there like a deboned pork belly, waiting to be enjoyed.
Normally, she'd browse through this garbage data while eating, see if she could dig out some gossip as a side dish. But today, she wasn't in the mood. She just wanted to focus on soothing her wounded soul.
That's when the system popped up a notification:
External data source detected
Read? Y/N
Ling raised an eyebrow.
The words had barely formed before she wanted to slap herself—
But it was too late. The command had been sent.
Loading.
Loading.
Loading.
Ling had already braced for a system crash.
But this time, the system actually cooperated. It shuddered and spat out results:
● [System Core Log: High-Dimensional Memory Data Decryption Report]
[Data Source]:
[Status]: Decryption FAILED.
Holographic data packet discarded. Only "linguistic-logical layer" and "intense consciousness fluctuations" extracted.
[High-Frequency Decoded Content Extraction]:
"…Off by a millimeter is still failure… You got the punctuation wrong, you're as blind as your teacher…"
"…Anti-blue-light coating adds a thousand, ultra-light frames another thousand… Your parents work themselves to death, and isn't it all for you?…"
"…Where are my glasses? Where are my glasses?… It's over, I'm going to bomb the exam, completely over…"
"The wind… so strong… Your kindness… I'm returning it to you…"
Closely followed by a summary report:
【 SCAN TARGET: EVIL SPIRIT INFO 】
● Evil Spirit Tier: Third Layer (Obsession Nascent)
● Core Logic Loop: "See clearly"
● Anchor: Gold wire-rimmed glasses
● Notes:
1. Highly compressed emotional residue
2. Suspected long-term repressed personality
? SYSTEM ALERT:
This vessel possesses high psychic permeability. Do not attempt prolonged direct eye contact with lenses.
Ling stared at that line——and fell silent for a second.
Boring. The most common variety back home.
Souls in the Hungry Ghost Realm were never "whole"—more like crumbs. The vast majority of newly fallen spirits and vengeful ghosts were so thin they seemed ready to dissipate at any moment, like mist.
Without some ironclad obsession, they'd scatter within three days, dissolving into part of the Realm itself.
Those that managed to take form all had one thing—an "anchor." Maybe a knife that pierced through a heart. A car that crushed bones. A scrap of paper covered in debts.
This physical object was their "stabilizer." With an anchor came the boundaries of "self," and only then could they begin that endless game of devouring.
It was all insane arithmetic. You swallow my desire, I absorb your fury, and eventually you sprout a jumble of mismatched parts. Most hungry ghosts became rabid beasts through this "genetic contamination."
Only a rare few freaks—who'd been through god-knows-what—could devour countless chaotic fragments and still desperately cling to that faint flame called "the illusion of individuality"—
As long as I believe I am me, then I am me.
For these advanced evil spirits who'd preserved partial sanity and stable "personalities," the mortal realm was one giant fish pond. Souls here were fat and tender, naive to an infuriating degree. Most importantly, there was far less competition, and oversight leaked like a sieve. To hungry ghosts, it was basically a premium seafood market.
And this self-proclaimed Ghost-Eye General was exactly such a lucky bastard who'd tumbled into the pond. Through some twist of fate, he'd found his "way back."
Through those gold wire-rimmed glasses, he'd achieved frequency resonance with another boy. Too bad his first attempt at scoring big had kicked an iron plate, and now here he was—done for.
Another kid who was unlucky in life, even unluckier in death…
Maybe the adrenaline had burned out. Ling suddenly couldn't muster the energy to digest this eyeball-thing.
It lay there now with eyes closed, quiet and still, all that crimson malice from before completely gone. Like an ugly cat sleeping.
Ling looked down at herself. Those decrepit "pipelines" inside her body trembled and shook, barely still functioning. The gorgeous, strangely familiar black crystal at the center, though—that sat steady as a rock.
She weighed the pathetic "little General" before her—
A bold idea surfaced…
This piece of gristle—her true self had no use for it. But this pitiful shell of hers was genuinely starving.