The arrogance from moments ago had vanished—now replaced by deference.
Noticing that Mo Lin hadn't poured himself a drink, Zhuang Ruo swiftly stepped forward and filled a glass of water for him without hesitation.
From the side, Wang Bing couldn't help but call out, "Old Six!"
That old fox—his eagerness to curry favor was unmatched.
Though he grumbled inwardly, Wang Bing's thoughts were more of surprise than sarcasm—surprised by how deferential Zhuang Ruo was being to Mo Lin.
"Would you like to join us for the meal?" Mo Lin asked, glancing at Zhuang Ruo.
"No, no… I'm good," Zhuang Ruo waved his hand, declining politely.
Even Wang Bing hadn't sat down to eat. For Zhuang Ruo to do so now would be entirely inappropriate—from any perspective.
"Brother Mo, please enjoy your meal. I won't disturb you further," Zhuang Ruo offered courteously, then turned and left.
"Mo-ge, do you know Zhuang Ruo?" Wang Bing asked.
"I do. You could say we're acquainted." In truth, Mo Lin had once saved Zhuang Ruo's life.
As time passed, the number of people Mo Lin knew continued to grow.
Just then, Lin Xi, who had been quietly eating, paused mid-bite. Her expression tensed slightly as she looked at her phone and turned to Mo Lin.
"Something's happened."
Mo Lin glanced at the messages in the Ghost-Taming chat group.
Zhao Fei: "Help… I'm trapped in Wanlin Mountain by ghosts… The other Ghost Tamers in my team are all dead."
Yun Ling: "What happened? Weren't you just on a routine ghost-hunting mission?"
Zhao Fei: "Wanlin Mountain is cursed. There are several malevolent spirits here I can't suppress. I need backup, fast!"
Yun Ling: "Hold tight, I'm on my way."
Mo Lin was very familiar with Wanlin Mountain—it was the place he had reappeared when he returned from the underworld.
"Should we go?" Lin Xi asked him softly.
"Yes, of course."
How could a ghost hunt possibly proceed without Mo Lin?
Without a moment's hesitation, the two set off for Wanlin Mountain. It was only about twenty minutes away by car.
When they arrived at the mountain's base, they found the entrance sealed with official talismans.
Men in black uniforms stood guard.
Mo Lin gazed up at the mountain. A dark mist of ghostly energy hovered in the air above—an ominous sign that many spirits lurked within.
A woman with a high ponytail, dressed in a black suit, was organizing the perimeter.
Mo Lin recognized her—he had seen her before during a ghost-hunting mission.
It was Tang Fang.
Seeing Lin Xi, Tang Fang approached and greeted her. "Lin Xi, you've arrived."
"Sister Tang, what's the situation inside?" Lin Xi asked.
"It's bad. Over a dozen Ghost Tamers are dead." Tang Fang replied grimly, her brow tightly furrowed.
She then noticed Mo Lin and nodded. "You came too."
"Mm," Mo Lin responded with a nod.
More Ghost Tamers began arriving.
Overhead, a helicopter descended slowly, its rotor blades stirring up a fierce wind. The thunderous whirr of the engine filled the air.
Yun Ling appeared beneath a white umbrella, dressed in a pristine white coat. Her entrance, as always, was strikingly dramatic.
Everyone naturally gravitated toward her presence.
From the moment she stepped onto the scene, she became its undeniable center.
It was clear that the gathered Ghost Tamers tacitly recognized her leadership.
"Sister Tang, is everyone here?" Yun Ling asked.
"All those we could mobilize have arrived—thirty-two Ghost Tamers in total," Tang Fang replied evenly.
Thirty-two Ghost Tamers—a formidable force. In the entire Yunchuan region, only the Ghost-Taming Society could summon such strength on such short notice.
"Are we going in?" Tang Fang asked cautiously.
"Yes," Yun Ling nodded and led the group up the mountain.
Barely a hundred meters in, they came upon a corpse.
The dead Ghost Tamer had a gaping hole in his chest; the blood on the ground had only just begun to congeal—he hadn't died long ago.
Lin Xi tensed, drawing her spiritual weapon for protection. With only one life to live, caution was paramount.
Mo Lin, however, didn't intend to stay with the group.
"I'll head east to take a look around," he told Lin Xi.
"Alright," she nodded.
Mo Lin veered off down a narrow trail.
No one paid much attention to his departure—after all, Mo Lin wasn't considered a crucial figure.
He moved quickly through the forest path, and within two minutes, he encountered a ghost.
It floated aimlessly through the air, its movements stiff and unnatural.
Only Mo Lin noticed something peculiar—this ghost was too rigid.
It was a low-level spirit.
The ghost spotted Mo Lin, bared its fangs, and lunged toward him like it had received some command. Its movements and attacks were mechanical, devoid of will.
When Mo Lin spoke of stiffness, he didn't mean the body—but the unnatural, puppet-like movements.
With a swift motion, he drew his translucent blue sword and cleaved the ghost in two mid-charge.
It made no attempt to dodge—just charged ahead and was sliced apart.
That brief encounter told Mo Lin all he needed to know: these ghosts had been raised.
More accurately, they were controlled—someone had deliberately released them here.
Their purpose remained unknown for now.
There was no value in capturing such spirits.
Mo Lin continued forward.
The deeper he ventured, the denser the ghostly energy became.
Soon, he spotted over a dozen ghosts huddled together, their mouths stained red.
A mutilated corpse lay at their feet—its bones gnawed clean, its flesh ripped and mangled.
The scene was revolting.
Clearly, someone was raising ghosts here—feeding them human corpses to cultivate their strength.
The horde of spirits simultaneously turned their glowing green eyes toward Mo Lin, as though they had discovered a feast, and rushed at him en masse.
They were all low-level ghosts—no threat to someone like Mo Lin.
As an agent of the underworld, his ability to suppress ghosts was unmatched.
His Soul-Scattering Technique was second to none.
With his spiritual weapons, these weak spirits were obliterated in an instant.
Mo Lin dove into the swarm, sword dancing through the air as he dispatched them with ease.
These ghosts were like walking corpses—silent even in death.
No cries. No resistance.
Just silence.
Mo Lin pressed onward up the mountain path.
Halfway up, the scenery changed.
Strange symbols appeared on the trees.
Red markings marred the earth.
These sigils were designed to channel ghostly energy into a single point.
Though Mo Lin couldn't decipher the specific runes, he understood their intent.
Someone was raising a ghost.
A powerful one.
This wasn't about ordinary ghosts—this was a "great ghost," perhaps of a formidable class.
An idea sparked in Mo Lin's mind.
He could capture it.
Of course, only if it was strong enough to be worth the effort.
It seemed he had come to the right place.
From the moment he stepped into this area, the atmosphere had grown palpably sinister.
The air was thick with malevolence.