"If only I could get this on credit..."

  John sighed, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face.

  "Hunting ghosts is risky enough as it is—unless I can track down some weak-ass ghosts."

  Sure, his luck with stumbling into supernatural crap was way higher than the average person’s. But scoring a ghost that was actually an easy target? That was easier said than done.

  "Guess I’ll just have to take it slow..."

  He knew better than to rush things.

  Lay low and grind—that was the way to go.

  After all, nothing was certain right now. Did the authorities have any way to handle this? How far would these paranormal incidents escalate? Were there really hidden masters or secret organizations out there in the civilian world? John had no clue.

  The next day,

  John was dead asleep when his phone blared, jolting him awake.

  "Boss John! I found a lead on those fighting roosters!" William’s voice crackled with excitement.

  "Huh? Already?!"

  John had been half-asleep, but those words snapped him fully awake in an instant.

  "Wait for me!"

  Soon enough, the two met up at a diner.

  After a hearty brunch, they hopped in a ride-hailing car and headed straight for their destination.

  "Huangtu Village?"

  John stared at the map on his phone. The place was practically on the outskirts of Blackwater Town.

  "Will, how’d you even find this spot?"

  "My family’s hometown is the village next door."

  William scratched the back of his head. "I asked my parents to check with the folks back home, and turns out they have rooster blood ready to go. The roosters in their village are total badasses—legendary around these parts. Figured they’d be exactly what you’re looking for."

  "For real?"

  John blinked in surprise. A village famous for its tough roosters? That was a new one.

  "Pretty sure."

  William nodded emphatically. "I visited when I was a kid, and those roosters chased me all over the place. Total nightmare fuel."

  "..."

  John twitched at the corner of his mouth, but a spark of anticipation lit up inside him.

  Two hours later,

  The ride-hailing car pulled over by the side of the road. "Sorry, guys—can’t drive any further. The rest is all dirt roads."

  "No problem," the two replied in unison. They’d known this going in, so they climbed out without a second thought.

  A dirt path stretched ahead of them, flanked by farmland. In the distance, clusters of village houses dotted the landscape, wispy tendrils of smoke curling up from their chimneys.

  "Let’s go."

  They exchanged a look, then set off toward the village.

  After a ten-minute walk, they reached their destination.

  Huangtu Village.

  A group of villagers had gathered at the entrance, chatting idly as if they were waiting for someone.

  The second John and William stepped into view, an elderly farmer spotted them first.

  "They’re here! The boys are here!"

  At his shout, all the villagers turned to stare.

  William’s parents had been tied up with work and couldn’t come, but they’d called ahead to make arrangements. All the boys had to do was show up.

  "You’re the ones here for the rooster blood?"

  An old man with cloudy eyes eyed them up and down. Their city clothes made them stick out like sore thumbs.

  John nodded, his gaze drifting to a large plastic basin the villagers were gathered around. A faint metallic tang of blood hung in the air.

  "Boss William already paid the full amount. You can take the blood right now."

  The old man glanced at their empty hands. "I’ll have the folks here pack it up for you in bags."

  "Thanks, sir."

  John smiled and nodded. He’d totally forgotten to bring containers.

  The villagers sprang into action, quickly portioning the rooster blood into plastic bags.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  John asked casually, "Did you folks slaughter all those roosters yourselves?"

  "Are you kidding?"

  The old man shook his head. "We’d never kill all of ’em—maybe one or two, sure, but not the whole flock. We’d never bear to part with ’em."

  "Then where’d all this blood come from..."

  "Actually, these roosters died a few days back. We saved the blood just in case, and then your call came right out of the blue."

  "Died?" John’s brow furrowed.

  "Boss John, I swear I didn’t know about this!"

  William had overheard the conversation, and his eyes went wide. He’d had no idea the roosters were dead.

  "You’re not gonna back out of the deal now, are you?"

  The old man looked suddenly anxious, realizing he might’ve said too much.

  "We made a deal—we’re buying it."

  John reassured him, then leaned in. "Mind telling us exactly what happened to the roosters?"

  The old man let out a sigh of relief, then launched into the story.

  "Honestly, it’s been mighty strange.

  "The roosters were perfectly fine during the day, but every night, one or two would just drop dead out of nowhere—squawking like crazy right before they kicked the bucket. No wounds, no signs of a struggle. We’ve got no clue what killed ’em."

  "..."

  John’s brow tightened as he mulled this over.

  The villagers finished packing the blood in record time, sealing each bag tightly.

  "Let’s go."

  John wasted no time, grabbing the bags and heading for the exit.

  The two walked side by side along the dirt road.

  "Boss John, what are you thinking about?"

  William noticed John’s pensive expression and asked.

  "I was just wondering..."

  John paused, then said, "If a walnut’s been crushed by a door, can it still boost your brain?"

  "Huh?"

  William blinked, completely lost.

  "What’s that supposed to mean?"

  John explained slowly, "Those roosters’ deaths... they might’ve had something to do with ghosts."

  "You’re saying Huangtu Village is haunted?!"

  "It’s not out of the question."

  All the roosters had died at night, with no visible injuries—and their bodies had been left untouched.

  If humans or wild animals had been responsible, they never would’ve left the carcasses behind.

  "So they scammed us?!"

  William’s face flushed with anger. "I’m gonna go back and give ’em a piece of my mind!"

  They’d bought the blood to fight ghosts, for crying out loud—if the roosters had been killed by a ghost, what good would their blood do?

  Now he finally got John’s weird walnut question.

  "Relax. If a ghost did this, it’s probably a pretty nasty one. We were gonna use the blood on weak ghosts anyway."

  John waved him off. "Chances are, it’ll still work."

  William nodded, letting the matter drop.

  Just then, the roar of a motorcycle engine erupted behind them.

  "Hold it right there!"

  A helmeted man zoomed past them, then tried to pull off a fancy drift—only to skid straight into the ditch beside the road.

  "..."

  John and William stared, dumbfounded. What in the world was this guy’s deal?

  "Goddammit!"

  The man muttered curses as he pushed his motorcycle upright and climbed out of the ditch.

  He yanked off his helmet, revealing a head of neon-yellow hair, then fixed his gaze squarely on John and William.

  "You’re not taking that rooster blood anywhere."

  "The hell we aren’t!"

  William shot back, indignant. "We already paid full price!"

  "That was just a deposit!"

  The man brushed dirt off his clothes, his tone casual as could be.

  He was the village’s resident layabout—lazy, jobless, and always short on cash. When he’d heard some city boys were buying rooster blood for a pretty penny, he’d smelled an opportunity to scam them.

  And when he saw they were just a couple of students? He’d decided to squeeze them for every last cent.

  "Deposit my ass!"

  William refused to back down. "My dad paid the full amount! If you don’t let us go, we’re calling the cops!"

  "Be my guest."

  The man shrugged, looking utterly unbothered. "Either way, you’re not leaving with those bags of blood."

  With that, he grabbed a small stick from the ground, a malicious grin spreading across his face. He hurled it straight at the bags of rooster blood, clearly aiming to puncture them.

  William dodged out of the way, his face burning with rage. He couldn’t believe this guy had the gall to pull this stunt.

  He opened his mouth to retort, but John held up a hand to stop him.

  "Hey man, how much more do you want for the so-called ‘balance’?"

  John set the bags of blood on the ground, then walked toward the man with a friendly smile.

  "Twenty grand!"

  Seeing how cooperative John seemed, the man immediately demanded a ridiculous price hike.

  "Sure, no problem."

  John smiled, then kept walking until he was standing right in front of the man.

  The man tensed up, feeling a twinge of unease—but he wasn’t about to back down. Sure, he was a lazy slacker, but he was built like a brick shithouse. No scrawny student was gonna take him down.

  John stopped right in front of him, then said slowly, "I’ve got just the thing to pay you with."

  He pulled a small object out of his pocket and held it out.

  "Huh? What the hell is this?"

  The man stared dumbfounded at the tiny good luck charm in his hand.

  Was this guy serious?

  "This’ll keep you safe. You’d better hold onto it tight!"

  Before the man could react, John’s right hand curled into a fist and slammed straight into his gut.

  The man’s eyes went wide with shock, but he was too slow to dodge. The punch hit him square in the stomach.

  "Ugh—!"

  He doubled over instantly, feeling like he was gonna hurl up his lunch from three days ago.

  "You thought you could shake down me?"

  John still wore that friendly, next-door-neighbor smile, but his fists were flying with brutal efficiency.

  The contrast between his pleasant expression and his vicious attacks was jarring, to say the least.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  After just four or five punches, the man collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain and begging for mercy. "I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll leave you alone!"

  He’d never in a million years thought a scrawny-looking student could hit this hard.

  This guy had to be on something...

  "Don’t apologize yet. I haven’t finished paying the ‘balance’!"

  John didn’t let up, landing punch after punch.

  The yellow-haired man could only lie there and take it, howling in agony.

  He tried to fight back, of course—but John’s strength was on a whole different level.

  Minutes later,

  John knelt down and snatched the good luck charm back from the man’s trembling hand, sighing. "I even gave you a charm to keep you safe before beating you up. I’m way too nice for my own good."

  "..."

  The man’s mouth twitched. Nice? Was this guy insane?

  "Now—we square?"

  "Y-yes! We’re square, boss! Totally square!"

  "Good."

  The man nodded frantically, but as John stood up, his eyes darted to a rock lying nearby. A flash of malice flickered in his gaze.

  But just then, a piece of paper fluttered out of John’s pocket and landed on the ground.

  The man froze, all thoughts of revenge vanishing instantly.

  The paper bore five clear words:

  Blackwater Town Psychiatric Department.

  "Oops—dropped something."

  John knelt down again, picked up the paper, and tucked it back into his pocket as calmly as you please.

  "Will—let’s go."

  John grabbed the bags of rooster blood and walked away from the dirt road without a backward glance.

  "..."

  The yellow-haired man lay on the ground, all traces of defiance gone. He wanted nothing more than to slap himself silly.

  Why the hell did he have to go and pick a fight with a psych ward patient?!

  "Will, how much did the rooster blood cost total? I’ll split the bill with you."

  "No need, Boss John."

  William shook his head, his eyes practically shining with admiration.

  This guy wasn’t afraid of ghosts or thugs—he was the ultimate ride-or-die!

  "If anything weird happens again... I’m counting on you to have my back, Boss John."

  William still hadn’t forgotten about that coffin in his dreams.

  If that thing ever decided to crawl out for real, John was the only one who could save him.

  "Sure thing..."