Though envy flickered in her eyes, it was clear—Mo Lin had earned every spirit coin with his own true strength.
Suddenly recalling the talisman he'd acquired that morning, Mo Lin retrieved it from his robes and held it up to Feng Mingyu.
"Do you recognize this?" he asked.
Feng Mingyu took the talisman, and as her eyes scanned it, her pupils dilated in shock. She quickly returned it to him.
"You… did you kill the Thunder Talisman Celestial Master?" she asked, voice low, gaze sharp.
"What if I told you I found it lying on the ground? Would you believe me?"
"Do you think I would?"
"Why couldn't I have found such a rare treasure? What makes you so sure only you could stumble across it?"
"That convenient?" she scoffed, clearly unconvinced.
"Put it away, now. I didn't see anything." Her tone dropped, wary.
"Is this thing that serious?" Mo Lin frowned.
"Serious? This thing is monumental," she replied, her face grave. "Do you even understand what a Celestial Master is?"
"Not really…" Mo Lin admitted honestly.
"Three years ago, the Thunder Talisman Celestial Master fell gravely ill and intended to pass the talisman to his daughter. But before he could, someone launched an assassination, stole the talisman, and left him for dead."
"The entire spiritual world erupted in uproar," Feng Mingyu explained. "The Two Talismans, Three Swords, and all Five Houses of the Celestial Master's Court were mobilized. But they never found it. The case was eventually abandoned—too much risk, too little trace."
"There's no doubt those who searched had their own motives. But in the end, no one succeeded."
"So listen to me," she warned, her tone serious. "Never take that talisman out in public again. If someone sees it, chaos will follow."
"The consequences are far beyond what you can imagine."
"When the Thunder Talisman reappears," she said, half grim, half theatrical, "rivers of blood will flow."
Even if she exaggerated, it wasn't far from the truth.
"What do you plan to do with it?" she asked, suspicious.
"You just said it was a treasure, didn't you?"
"Of course it is!"
"Then why would I get rid of it? I'll keep it for myself," Mo Lin said with an unwavering smile, already treating it as a future trump card.
Feng Mingyu rolled her eyes, exasperated. He hadn't heard a word of her warning.
And he didn't seem the least bit afraid of provoking trouble.
"Tsk, tsk…"
Mo Lin studied the talisman closely. "What luck, to have such a treasure fall into my hands."
Feng Mingyu wanted to explain further—the forces tangled behind the talisman, the political weight it carried—but seeing Mo Lin's entranced expression, she swallowed her words.
He clearly wouldn't listen.
Unfortunately, Mo Lin didn't yet know how to wield the Thunder Talisman, so for now, it was nothing more than a decorative piece.
Ring ring—
Mo Lin's phone rang suddenly. The caller ID showed Liu Feng's number.
He answered, and Liu Feng's trembling voice came through.
"Brother Mo… please come to Wanhai Square. Quickly."
"What happened?" Mo Lin asked, brows furrowing.
Before Liu Feng could answer, a harsh voice snapped from the background.
"Shut up! End the call!"
The line went dead.
Mo Lin's expression darkened instantly—something had happened.
"Has your uncle offended anyone recently?" he asked Feng Mingyu.
"No…" She paused, thinking. "Unless you count that time we killed Zhou Tian and took his daughter. We did kill Zhou Tian."
"What's going on?"
"Trouble," Mo Lin replied curtly, heading for the door.
"My uncle? Something's happened to him?" she called after him, chasing.
Mo Lin nodded gravely.
If this was tied to Zhou Tian, then it involved him as well.
He had been part of that conflict, and more importantly, he had promised to keep Liu Feng safe.
Now that Liu Feng was in danger, he wouldn't stand idly by.
Without hesitation, he started the car.
"I'm coming too," Feng Mingyu said, climbing into the passenger seat.
The two of them drove in silence. The air inside the vehicle grew heavy with tension.
Wanhai Square.
Once a peaceful plaza over a thousand meters wide, it used to be filled with elderly people dancing in the evening.
But after the horrors descended, most stayed hidden in their homes.
Today, however, Wanhai Square was packed.
A crowd gathered, surrounding the center.
At the very heart knelt a middle-aged man, tied up and bloodied. His face was smeared with fresh crimson. Wounds covered his body, and his nose bled freely.
A black-clad man stood over him, one boot crushing his head against the pavement.
"Liu Feng…" Yuan Cao hissed. "If that bastard doesn't show up soon, I'll kill you right here."
Liu Feng didn't struggle. Didn't beg. He was like a corpse with a pulse—silent, still, and unfeeling.
Blood streaked his cheeks, but he made no sound.
"Fucking corpse," Yuan Cao spat. Enraged by Liu Feng's silence, he kicked him hard in the ribs.
A dozen ghost tamers watched from the sidelines, waiting for the show.
Yuan Cao had gone all-out for this.
His cousin, Zhou Tian, was dead. And he had come for vengeance.
He didn't care why Zhou Tian had died—only that he had.
All that mattered was finding the culprits and killing them.
Ten minutes later, a Rolls-Royce rolled up to the square.
Mo Lin and Feng Mingyu stepped out, drawing everyone's attention.
Yuan Cao immediately spotted him in the crowd.
"You bastard. Get over here!" he shouted.
Mo Lin walked calmly to the center, casting a brief glance at the beaten Liu Feng.
Then he turned to Yuan Cao.
"You called me out here. I assume there's a reason?"
"There's a reason, alright. You killed my cousin. I'm here to settle the score," Yuan Cao said coldly.
"It was Zhou Tian who came after us first—he kidnapped—" Feng Mingyu began, but Yuan Cao cut her off with a snarl.
"Shut up! I don't care what he did. Someone has to pay for his death."
Simple. Arrogant. Ruthless.
"So someone must die for this to end?" Mo Lin asked, voice like frost.
"Exactly," Yuan Cao sneered. "Unless you kneel before me. Beg for mercy. If I'm in a good mood, I might let you live."
"I'll break your legs," he continued, eyes gleaming with cruelty, "and let you crawl like a dog."
Mo Lin almost laughed aloud.
Vengeance required strength.
And Yuan Cao had none.
He swept his gaze across the gathered enemies—nine second-rank ghost tamers, three third-rank.
A pitiful formation.
"I'll give you two options," Mo Lin said, his tone sharp and glacial."Let him go—Or die."