Mo Lin understood Liu Feng's desperation all too well. A father's love for his only daughter could drive even the most composed man to recklessness when faced with her suffering.
"Who are these men?" Mo Lin asked Feng Mingyu, his voice low.
"Common street trash," Feng Mingyu replied with a derisive snort. "Idle thugs who cling to a few low-tier ghost tamers to justify their wretched deeds."
Kidnapping alone proved their depravity.
"Kneel," Zhou Tian taunted Liu Feng, his lips curling into a sneer. "Beg on your knees, and perhaps I'll consider sparing your daughter."
"Fine—I'll kneel!"
Liu Feng, driven by paternal terror, moved to drop to the ground—until Mo Lin's hand shot out, halting him mid-motion.
Zhou Tian was toying with him. Even if Liu Feng groveled, the girl would not be freed. Worse demands would follow.
Annoyed by the interference, Zhou Tian glowered at Mo Lin. "This doesn't concern you, brat. Stay out of it."
A hulking enforcer stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "One more step, and I'll break every bone in your body."
To emphasize his threat, he summoned his contracted ghost—a **Menace-class** specter. As a **Second-Class Ghost Tamer**, he expected the display to send Mo Lin fleeing.
He was mistaken.
Mo Lin's blade flashed—once, twice—before returning to its sheath.
The ghost split cleanly down the middle, its form dissipating like smoke.
The enforcer staggered, his face draining of color. "Impossible…"
A **Menace-class** spirit, annihilated in an instant.
Zhou Tian's pupils constricted. They were dealing with a true master.
"Release the girl," Mo Lin said, his voice glacial, "or none of you leave here alive."
Some lessons were best learned in the underworld: to defeat monsters, one must wield greater monstrosity.
Tension thickened the air. Zhou Tian's grip on the girl's neck tightened, but he dared not move. No human could outpace a ghost's wrath.
As a Second-Class Tamer himself, he knew summoning his own spirit would be futile.
"You think I'm easily intimidated?" Zhou Tian forced a laugh, masking his unease. "I didn't come unprepared."
His trump card emerged from the shadows—a woman in a pristine white qipao, her delicate features belying her lethal reputation.
**"Sister Hong."**
A **Fourth-Class Ghost Tamer**, a figure who stood at the pinnacle of Yun Chuan's underworld. Zhou Tian had paid a fortune for her services.
Feng Mingyu instantly shifted into a defensive stance. Even Liu Feng's expression darkened.
Zhou Tian smirked. "With her here, who dares touch me?"
Yet the moment Sister Hong's eyes met Mo Lin's, she averted her gaze—as if hoping to go unrecognized.
Mo Lin, however, brightened with recognition. **"Hong Yanxun?"**
The woman from the **Silhouette Pavilion**, his first customer when he'd last auctioned ghost artifacts.
Silence.
Trapped between professionalism and prior acquaintance, Hong Yanxun hesitated. She'd taken Zhou Tian's money. To side with Mo Lin now would be a breach of contract. To fight him? Absurd.
Pretending not to know him seemed the wisest choice.
Mo Lin, ever oblivious to social nuance, shattered the charade. **"Have you forgotten me already? I sold you that Bone-Thread Parasol just last month!"**
Hong Yanxun exhaled through gritted teeth. **"...Mn."**
"Since we're acquainted," Mo Lin said cheerfully, "I'll spare you the trouble. You may leave."
Hong Yanxun blinked. **"I—what?"**
That was *her* line. *She* was the Fourth-Class Tamer. Why did this upstart act as though *he* held the authority?
"I'm under contract," she protested weakly.
"How much?"
"Two thousand hellnotes."
Mo Lin waved a hand. "Return Zhou Tian's money. I'll give you three thousand to walk away."
A beat of stunned silence.
The sheer audacity left her momentarily speechless. Yet logic prevailed—profit, combined with Zhou Tian's vile reputation, made the choice simple.
"...Fine."
She accepted Mo Lin's notes, tossed Zhou Tian's payment back, and turned to leave.
"Lucky we're friends," Mo Lin called after her. "Otherwise, today would've ended badly for you."
Hong Yanxun nearly tripped. **"You—!"**
That was *her* parting threat!
Shaking her head, she vanished into the gloom.
Zhou Tian's scream echoed uselessly behind her. **"Sister Hong! You can't abandon me!"**
Feng Mingyu whistled, impressed. **"Damn. You've got connections."**
Not just knowing Hong Yanxun, but making her *retreat*? Unheard of.
Mo Lin, however, was already moving—his foot connecting with Zhou Tian's face in a brutal kick.
**"You *dared* take my hellnotes?"** He snatched back the two thousand notes Hong Yanxun had returned. **"Know your place."**
Every coin counted, after all.