Beyond the door lay an enormous CEO's office.

  A floor-to-ceiling window faced the skyline of Longjiang. The leather sofas were understated grayish-brown; the bookshelves were heavy aged sandalwood; a few calligraphy scrolls hung on the walls in raw wood frames with small, unobtrusive signatures. But each painting was shrouded in a faint spiritual glow.

  A well-dressed, well-preserved man in his forties was currently standing on top of the luxurious executive desk. His legs were shaking, his face drained of color, utterly at a loss.

  The moment he saw Ling enter, his eyes lit up. He called out, voice cracking:

  "Where's Dax?! Why isn't Dax here yet?!"

  He waved frantically and stomped his feet toward one corner of the room.

  "Get him here! Hurry!!"

  Ling followed his gaze. Ghost-Eye adjusted its frequency slightly. A hideous female ghost materialized before her eyes.

  

  Whoa, gave me a start. It was so blurry just now, thought it was a janitor mopping the floor.

  The thing was sprawled on the ground, a tangled heap. Its limbs twisted at impossible angles, joints bent back and forth until you couldn't tell which end was the head and which was the tail.

  She had almost no hair left. Her scalp looked like it had been ripped off alive—mottled and gruesome, with only a few strands of scorched black hair hanging limply, revealing the ghastly white, scratch-covered skull beneath. Her face was fully exposed under the lights, eyes more white than black, fixed unblinkingly on the man atop the desk.

  She was crawling forward. Slowly, relentlessly, inch by inch. Those twisted joints made crackling sounds, like someone snapping dry twigs.

  Every small advance—

  The man on the desk shrieked.

  Another inch forward—

  His voice climbed another octave.

  By now he was hitting notes only dolphins could hear. The system finally loaded a prompt:

  ?? SYSTEM CRITICAL ALERT

  ?? Vengeful Spirit Interference Detected

  Initiate [Celestial Maiden's Redemption.exe] for deliverance?

  ? Estimated deliverance time: 7 hours 45 minutes

  ? Estimated energy cost: 282% of current reserves

  ?? Warning: Insufficient energy. Recommend maintaining charge during deliverance.

  [Confirm][Cancel][Remind Me Later]

  "…"

  Ling had grown numb to this system by now. She swiped the prompt away without even bothering to tap "Remind Me Later."

  Deliverance my ass. Who asked you.

  The Ghost-Eye on her face was practically drooling into her eye sockets.

  In the cookbook of the Hungry Ghost Realm, mortal vengeful spirits were a delicacy. They hadn't yet been weathered by time into tasteless husks, weren't hardened and unchewable like purgatory prisoners from endless refinement, and hadn't fermented into reeking slop from mutual cannibalization in the mire.

  This one before her was fluffy, fresh—every wisp of spectral wind saturated with the complex flavors of an unfinished life. Like a mystery cotton candy dispensed from a coin machine, still emanating that alluring, blood-drenched fragrance before being devoured.

  The scene sparked Ling's wicked sense of amusement. She deliberately pretended not to see anything, casually stepping around the writhing ghost to reach the desk.

  She looked up, flashed a perfect eight-tooth smile under her mask, and extended her right hand.

  "Hello." Her voice was sweet enough to spin into syrup. "I'm Dax's—apprentice, Ling. He said he went to dump… um… some business in the restroom."

  Damn, couldn't even say "dump a load"？？？

  "He'll be here shortly."

  Dante: "…"

  He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the urge to curse.

  Restroom? That old bastard picks NOW to use the restroom?

  He straightened his suit with some awkwardness, gave a slight bow, and reached out to shake her hand.

  "Hello. Li Dante. Pleased to meet you."

  His tone was composed, his manner refined. If you ignored the fact that he was currently standing on his desk, it would have been impeccable. Unfortunately, the elegance lasted exactly one second.

  The female ghost on the floor suddenly lurched forward another half inch.

  Dante jumped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, letting out a yelp. He started stomping frantically again. The calendar, notebooks, and pens on his desk went flying, scattering across the floor.

  "Stay back! Stay back!!"

  As the ghost crawled closer and closer, about to claw her way onto the desk—

  Dante thought fast. He yanked off his suit jacket and waved it at the ghost like he was swatting flies.

  "Shoo! Shoo shoo shoo!"

  Strangely enough—

  The ghost actually stopped advancing. She just lay there, letting out a low hiss, as if something was holding her down.

  Not daring to stop his waving, Dante shouted at Ling mid-swing:

  "Uncle Jiang's apprentice? You must know how to exorcise ghosts, right?!"

  "Quick—get this thing away from me!!"

  But Ling didn't move. She just tilted her head, studying him. More precisely, studying all the shiny goodies on his person.

  This man was decked out in gold from head to toe. Around his neck hung an exquisite mutton-fat jade protection amulet, its texture warm as frozen cream, faintly radiating Buddhist light. On his chest was pinned an unassuming brooch that, on closer inspection, was shaped like some ancient talisman script. Even the buckle on his belt emitted a soft spiritual glow—clearly no ordinary item.

  Armed to the teeth with artifacts, he was basically a walking display rack for magical items.

  "How strange." Ling clicked her tongue in wonder. "You're covered in premium gear—how can you not handle a mere vengeful spirit?"

  She glanced again at the ghost on the floor, still struggling to rally.

  Seething with resentment, consumed by obsession. Crushed under the weight of so many artifacts until she could barely hold her form, yet still she pressed forward.

  What kind of obsession drives someone to throw themselves into the flames like this?

  She looked back at Dante's suave, handsome face, one eyebrow slightly raised, thoughtful.

  Tsk.

  Don't tell me this is about a romantic debt.

  Ling suddenly missed Mouth-Granny. If that old gossip were here, she'd definitely spin this into quite the drama.

  Dante was beside himself:

  "Exactly! That's what I want to know! I'm wearing all this expensive stuff—why does this ghost still dare to harass me?!"

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  "It's definitely that cheapskate Dax scamming me again!"

  "Ring ring ring—" The phone on the desk rang.

  Dante flinched, crouched down, one hand still waving his jacket at the ghost while the other fumbled for the receiver.

  "Hello… they're here already?"

  "Y-you have them wait next door for a moment. I've got a small emergency here. I'll be right over."

  After hanging up, he looked up—and froze.

  The unremarkable woman in white had somehow crouched down right next to the ghost. She had one eye half-closed, holding her gold-rimmed glasses, using the temple to poke the ghost's face, then flick at what little hair remained.

  Like a heartless brat tormenting a grasshopper, having the time of her life.

  And the ghost—that ferocious, relentless, death-defying ghost—was now trembling on the floor like a leaf in the wind. Every time those glasses touched her, her whole body would seize up, letting out thin whimpers.

  Each time this happened, the woman in white would let out a sweet, delighted giggle.

  "Hehe. She looks like a kappa."

  "So cute."

  Dante rubbed his eyes. For a moment, he couldn't tell which one was more like a demon. He steadied himself and held out the suit jacket to Ling, his voice now pleading.

  "Young master, you… take this—don't hold it inside-out, keep the lining facing out."

  "The lining of this jacket is Purple-Gold Kasaya. Same style as Fahai's."

  "Please use it to wrap up that ghost and take her away!"

  Ling took the jacket and blinked.

  Purple-Gold Kasaya? Same as that bald monk? Did he really ride that robe through a career of demon-slaying just to snag a promotion in the Court?

  She remembered the old stories Mouth-Granny used to brag about.

  Said that when she was young, she'd once seen Fahai's kasaya with her own eyes, and nearly got rolled up inside it. Supposedly, that thing could wrap up any demon, monster, or evil spirit in the world—even wicked thoughts and dark intentions.

  Huh. Interesting.

  She turned the jacket over, examining the dark purple lining.

  But the moment—the ghost on the floor touched a corner of the jacket, recoiled like a live wire sparking in the rain!

  "HSSSAAAAAAHHHH—!!"

  The ghost let out a shriek. Her previously prone body suddenly shot upright. Her head snapped around with a crack—one hundred eighty degrees backward.

  A gray, gruesome face now pointed directly at Dante—eye sockets sunken, skin rotting, mouth stretched to her ears, revealing blackened gums. Her limbs twisted like broken branches, trembling as they supported her body. She looked like a giant cockroach springing to life, skittering toward the corner with rapid tap-tap-tap sounds.

  Dante watched this scene unfold. Every hair on his body stood on end, goosebumps erupting everywhere. His head buzzed. His stomach churned.

  At this moment, he really wished he were an ordinary person.

  At least… he wouldn't have to see these nightmarish images.

  Ghost-Eye was bouncing frantically inside the frames, shrieking:

  "Sister Ling! My food!!"

  "My food's getting away!!!"

  It took matters into its own hands and activated auto-tracking mode. The field of vision lurched wildly, following the ghost. Ling was hit with a wave of motion sickness so bad she nearly threw up on the spot. Luckily she'd just topped up her energy—her core could barely keep up with the refresh rate.

  This goddamn piece of junk…

  She suddenly remembered what Dax had said about merit.

  If… I catch something for some brain-dead ghost to eat… would that count as kindness?

  Hmm… it should… at least a little, right?

  No time like the present. Before Dax got back, she might as well snag a little snack for Ghost-Eye. Who knows, maybe it'd boost its IQ.

  The office erupted into chaos—

  Expensive vases shattered with a crash.

  Designer lamps clattered and toppled.

  Sandalwood bookshelves creaked and tilted.

  Dress ripped with a loud tear.

  All punctuated by the master of the office's strangled cries:

  "Ahh— Be gentle! You're tearing it!"

  And the Maiden's furious growls:

  "Hold still, you little shi-rt!!"

  Meanwhile, in the adjacent lounge. Click—the door opened from inside. Two men emerged one after the other, one old, one young.

  The elder was around seventy, leaning on a silver-topped gentleman's cane, his face somewhat puffy, his steps unsteady.

  The younger was perhaps not yet thirty, posture straight, demeanor composed, constantly hovering at the old man's elbow, never straying.

  Both were impeccably dressed—the old man in a custom gray three-piece suit, the younger in navy blue. But fatigue was written across both their faces, brows furrowed.

  The old man coughed twice and addressed the secretary holding the door: "Please convey to President Li… our sincere apologies. Urgent matters at home, we really cannot wait any longer. I hope President Li understands."

  The secretary nodded, expression apologetic: "Elder Lei, President Lei, I'm truly very sorry. I'll be sure to pass along the message."

  They were about to head toward the elevator when the young man, sharp-eared, suddenly stopped. He heard strange sounds coming from next door—

  The young man's expression darkened instantly. He turned to the secretary, tone dripping with undisguised sarcasm:

  "If President Li's personal affairs are keeping him so busy, why bother calling us over in the first place?"

  "Are we here for his amusement?"

  The old man reached out and patted his shoulder. "Teon, let it go." His voice was hoarse with fatigue. "Business comes first."

  At that moment, the inner office door also opened.

  A disheveled woman in white came scrambling out, her thick glasses askew on her face, mask hanging crookedly to one side, arms wrapped around a crumpled ball of suit jacket. Even her dress had a tear running up past her knee. She looked an absolute mess.

  As she passed the Lei grandfather and grandson, she seemed to suddenly lose her footing. The "bundle" in her arms—and her body with it—tilted toward the young man called Teon.

  He reacted instantly, nimbly sidestepping with practiced ease. His eyes were full of contempt: What trash. What a tired old trick.

  But his dodge only made Ling stumble worse. The suit jacket knocked her glasses off. She crouched to pick them up, and in that split second, instinctively glanced up at him.

  Teon was standing ramrod straight, chin slightly raised, looking down at her with disdain—then froze.

  He had fallen into a pair of eyes he would never forget for the rest of his life.

  Those eyes were utterly still, utterly clear. Shaped like distant mountains kissed by mist, the outer corners lifting slightly—not seductive, just naturally aloof. The irises were pale, the surface unrippled, still as a pool of black water with bones settled at the bottom. There was only a bone-deep cold that made your scalp tingle all the way down to your toes.

  Without the glasses filtering them, Ling's high-definition right eye quickly began to sting. She squinted instinctively—but to Teon, it looked like a deliberate wink.

  A voice pierced through that momentary daze—

  "Ah! So sorry, so sorry! Made you wait so long!"

  Dante emerged from the inner office, hurriedly dabbing at the cold sweat on his forehead with a handkerchief, bowing and nodding. His manner was impeccable—if you ignored his disheveled hair and slightly trembling fingers.

  "Somehow a stray cat got into the office. I'm not afraid of much in this world, but cats terrify me." He gave an awkward laugh. "My apologies for the spectacle. Please, come in."

  Ling put her glasses back on and stood to the side clutching the suit jacket, watching this smooth-talking uncle dig himself deeper with cold eyes.

  Looks smart enough. So why so gutless and clueless?.

  She silently passed judgment on Dax's social circle—that old fart didn't have a single normal person around him.

  Thinking of Wynn's half-dead state, she added another note:

  He must be the bane of normal people.

  But Elder Lei showed no intention of entering the office. He coughed lightly, his tone polite but distant:

  "Dante, we have appointments with several other… masters. They all come highly recommended, and we really shouldn't keep them waiting."

  He turned to gesture to his grandson: "Teon, the invitation."

  The young man produced a gold-embossed invitation card from his pocket and presented it with both hands.

  "Here's the situation—tonight at eight, we've prepared a simple dinner at our humble house. President Li and that… Master Jiang you mentioned? If you're interested, you're both welcome to come." The old man coughed twice more. "Apologies for the short notice. Please understand. You know how it is… ah…"

  He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear—I don't know if your guy is reliable or not, but I'm not putting all my eggs in one basket.

  Dante nodded repeatedly: "Completely understandable. Today really was an emergency. Sorry to have wasted your trip. I'll definitely come by tonight to make amends."

  Elder Lei seemed to be losing strength. After a few more quick pleasantries, he and his grandson left with the secretary escorting them to the elevator.

  The moment the door closed behind them—

  Ding—

  The other elevator opened, and Dax came charging out. His face was flushed, breath ragged. The moment the doors parted, he spotted Ling and Dante standing in the hallway:

  "What are you doing out here? Where's the client?"

  "Uncle Jiang! You're asking me?!" Dante shoved the invitation into his hands. "The Leis already left. Here—they said they've invited several masters over at eight tonight. You going? I'm definitely bringing something to apologize."

  The moment Dax heard "masters," his expression darkened. "Not them!" He lowered his voice: "Someone's already died over this. If they bring in more charlatan hacks, they'll push That One over the edge!"

  "Well, you didn't show up, I couldn't stop them." Dante pointed at the crumpled suit jacket in Ling's arms. "This vengeful spirit actually tracked them down and came to me first—I don't care, you need to see this through. One more incident and I'm having a nervous breakdown."

  Dax reached out to take the jacket for a look. Ling spun away, clutching the bundle tight: "Back off! I did the dirty work—this is mine!"

  "You two chat." She turned without looking back. "I'm going to find somewhere to feed."

  Dax rubbed his nose but didn't stop her, tacitly approving. He pulled Dante into the office, and the two began muttering about who knows what.

  Ling made her way to the rooftop terrace.

  Open view, gentle breeze, warm sun on her skin. She looked around, found a sheltered corner, and sat down cross-legged—a perfect spot for lunch.

  The suit-jacket bundle in her arms had gone still. The Kasaya must have completely smothered it.

  Ghost-Eye was beside itself with impatience, spinning in the glasses: "Give it to me! Give it to me! Starving starving starving—"

  Ling held it down: "Wait."

  "How come！"

  "No more eating raw from now on."

  "How come again?!"

  "I'm worried you'll mutate again." Ling was merciless: "You're already smelly and stupid enough."

  "Then—then how am I supposed to eat?!"

  "Hold on. Let me munch it up for you first."

  "Ugh… I'm not a baby bird…"

  Ling opened a corner of the jacket, like peeling back the wrapper on a rice ball, revealing the curled-up, barely conscious ghost inside. She opened her mouth, ready to stuff it in.

  The human body has nine orifices—the meeting points between body and soul. For a spiritual entity, eating through the mouth was the same as eating through any other opening, but she wanted to try the human way.

  Suddenly, a burning sensation behind her ear. Little Ears was heating up. Ling paused.

  "She… has something to say…" Little Ears' voice was muffled.

  "It's fine, it won't hurt. Just a second." Ling brought the ghost closer to her mouth again.

  A sharp sting behind her ear. Little Ears repeated stubbornly: "She says… fox-Yao… hurt her… she wants to… save her son…"

  Ling's movements froze.

  "Fox-Yao? Soran?"

  She looked down at the nearly lifeless thing in her arms. The ghost's form was blurred like crumpled rice paper, on the verge of dissolving. But on that gray, ruined face, a trace of near-manic obsession still lingered.

  Ling tapped her glasses frame: "Alright, I'll find you something to eat later. I need to figure something out first."

  Ghost-Eye felt its world collapse: "Seriously?! Every damn time! The food's on the table and then you kick me out!!"

  Ling stood and walked to the edge of the terrace, hands braced on the railing. She needed to sort through her thoughts.

  She happened to see the old man and the young man getting into a black business car on the driveway below.

  The young man seemed to sense something. He paused mid-step and looked up toward the terrace. At this distance, of course he couldn't see clearly—just a vague glimpse of a white figure.

  But the ghost in Ling's arms suddenly seemed to rally, as if experiencing a final surge of life force. She struggled violently, clinging to Ling's arm with her broken body, draping herself over the railing, desperately gazing down.

  Those clouded eyes locked onto the young man about to get into the car.

  The viciousness in them slowly, slowly melted away. Softened into water.

  A sorrow so deep it killed even Ling's appetite.

  "Fine," Ling sighed, stuffing the female ghost back into the suit and bundling it up.

  She watched the car fading into the distance below, a cold smirk playing on her lips.

  "Since this involves Soran, I can't just let it slide."

  "Jiang Dax! Where the hell are you? Get the car ready—we’re going to the Lei residence!"