Mo Lin's simple words, in Yuan Cao's ears, sounded nothing short of a joke.
In fact, it was the funniest joke he had ever heard in his entire life.
"What? What did you just say?"
Not only did Yuan Cao not take Mo Lin seriously, he even began to mock him.
"Did anyone else hear what this guy just said?"
"He actually said he's going to kill us?"
"Bro, I didn't mishear, did I? He really said he's going to kill us."
"This is, without a doubt, the funniest thing I've heard in my entire life," a man burst into laughter.
"A dog dares to bark so wildly? What is he, rabid?" another chimed in, his voice dripping with ridicule.
None of them regarded Mo Lin as a threat in the slightest.
Mo Lin's eyes narrowed slightly. He drew a long blue sword and planted its blade vertically into the ground.
Seeing him assume a combat stance, Yuan Cao and the others finally shed their casual attitudes. One by one, they summoned their contract spirits.
More than a dozen men encircled Mo Lin, their summoned ghosts glaring at him with deadly intent.
At Yuan Cao's command, these spirits would pounce upon him.
"Leave, unless you want your souls scattered to the wind," Mo Lin spat, his voice cold as death.
A tremendous surge of ghostly energy burst forth from within him.
For the first time, Mo Lin didn't suppress his aura.
The heavy ghostly qi spread like a storm, engulfing the entire square.
A look of panic crossed the faces of Yuan Cao's contracted spirits.
Yes—panic.
Though Yuan Cao and the others couldn't see the ghostly energy, their contract spirits could.
And though Mo Lin wasn't wearing his Underworld robe, the aura he emitted was unmistakably that of an emissary of the Yin Division.
Terror bloomed in the eyes of every contracted ghost.
"Kill him," Yuan Cao ordered his ghost.
But the spirit didn't move, as if it hadn't heard a word.
Thinking it a misunderstanding, Yuan Cao barked again: "Attack!"
Still, nothing.
Worse—his ghost began to emit an aura of resistance.
"Breaking the contract?" Yuan Cao froze in disbelief.
His spirit was actively dissolving their bond.
A contract wasn't so easily broken—it came with a steep price. And yet, his spirit insisted, severing the tie unilaterally.
Its power plummeted, but the contract was truly gone.
Yuan Cao stood stunned, unable to believe what he was seeing.
A contract broken—just like that.
It was the first time he'd even heard of such a thing, let alone witnessed it.
Then something even more surreal occurred.
His spirit knelt.
Kneeled—on the ground.
And the one it knelt to... was Mo Lin.
Not only his—every single spirit summoned by the others had also broken their contracts.
Each had chosen to weaken themselves rather than face Mo Lin.
"My... my contract ghost?"
"Why would you dissolve the contract?"
"I fed you, clothed you, spent nether coins to keep you strong—why would you betray me?"
"Why?"
The crowd shouted in frustration.
But there was no answer.
The spirits refused even to acknowledge them.
None of them could comprehend why, without warning, these spirits would pay such a heavy price to sever their bonds.
Feng Mingyu stood aside, eyes wide in astonishment.
Other than staring, she had no way to express her shock.
All it had taken was a single gesture from Mo Lin.
And in an instant, more than ten contracted ghosts had abandoned their masters.
And these weren't mere weaklings—some were high-threat entities.
Yet even such formidable ghosts chose to break free at any cost.
Because they understood something their summoners didn't.
They knew what Mo Lin was.
They felt it in his bones—the presence of the Yin Division.
To spirits, the Yin Division was not merely authority—it was fear, etched into their very souls.
To them, encountering Mo Lin was like a commoner meeting a provincial magistrate.
Fear—pure and visceral—took hold.
Then came a sight that would leave all who witnessed it breathless:
A dozen ghosts dropped to their knees.
One after another, they bowed.
To Mo Lin.
He stood alone in the square, his clothes fluttering gently in the breeze, silent as the spirits prostrated themselves before him.
The entire crowd was stunned.
Feng Mingyu's eyes nearly popped out of her head.
Was this for real?
Was it really this insane?
Ghosts... kneeling to a human?
What kind of logic was this?
From the moment Mo Lin appeared to the point these ghosts knelt, he'd only made one simple movement.
Just one move—and it reduced them all to trembling submission?
This wasn't supposed to happen. It shouldn't have been possible.
Ghosts had their pride. Even when facing obliteration, many would never bend the knee.
Under normal circumstances, this was unthinkable.
But this scene—was anything but normal.
Could it be that science truly ended where mysticism began?
Because this—this was mysticism, through and through.
Was Mo Lin born to command spirits?
Was he destined to hunt ghosts?
Only that explanation could begin to justify what had just occurred.
Yuan Cao couldn't utter a single word. His face looked as if he'd swallowed dog shit.
That ghost—his own contract spirit—had never even spoken to him.
Every day, Yuan Cao had worshipped it with offerings, afraid of the slightest offense.
And yet, that lofty, untouchable spirit now knelt before a man.
Its former pride and coldness crumbled to dust.
I don't understand... I don't get it...
Had this happened to only him, maybe he could have dismissed it.
But every single one of his comrades was experiencing the same.
"Boss, what's going on?" one of his men asked, eyes wide.
"How the hell should I know?!"
Yuan Cao snapped, voice cracking with fear. "It's that brat! He's the problem!"
His heart pounded like a drum.
Only now did he begin to realize—he'd provoked someone he never should have.
Feng Mingyu quickly snapped a photo of the scene and uploaded it to the Ghost-Tamer Society group chat.
Feng Mingyu: "Picture. Can anyone explain how I'm supposed to feel right now?"
Yun Ling: "Wait, what? Are those ghosts... bowing to Mo Lin?"
Lin Xi: "Holy crap... that's majestic."
Zhao Fei: "That guy's Mo Lin? He's the one who saved me back in Wanlin Mountain. Damn, he's terrifying."
Yun Ling: "Mo Lin? He's that powerful?"
Yun Ling had met Mo Lin before, but she had never seen him in action—never known the extent of his power.
Feng Mingyu: "Whatever you do, don't mess with Mo Lin. I'm not sure you'd survive the emotional trauma."
Yun Ling: "???"
Feng Mingyu: "Never mind. Go back to what you were doing."
She hadn't posted the picture for any real reason. She just wanted to share it—to let them all be stunned.
Yun Ling: "Where'd she go? Why isn't she replying?"
Lin Xi: "What's happening?"
Yun Ling: "This is so frustrating, say something!"
The group buzzed with questions, but Feng Mingyu had already turned off her screen.
She had no intention of replying.
Let them stew in curiosity.
Back in the square, Mo Lin stood unmoved, the depths of his eyes simmering with fury.
Yuan Cao and his group had clearly pushed him too far.