If that ghost were exorcised, wouldn't all of Mo Lin's recent efforts have been in vain?
For what, exactly?
It felt just like preparing a delicious meal, only for someone to barge in and flip the pot at the last second.
How could he possibly accept that?
"Brother, why are you so worked up?" the man asked, puzzled by Mo Lin's agitation.
"They're about to flip the pot—I'm supposed to stay calm?" Mo Lin shot back.
"What pot?" The man stared blankly at him, clearly baffled.
He had no idea what Mo Lin meant.
Mo Lin didn't bother explaining. Instead, he turned and made his way up the mountain to assess the situation for himself.
Atop the mountain, a group of people was sprinkling white lime powder across the ground. Others were painting strange symbols onto the tree trunks. Mo Lin didn't recognize any of it.
They were all dressed in matching blue robes, with a bold, striking character—"雷" (Thunder)—emblazoned on their backs.
The moment he saw them, Mo Lin knew—they were here to catch a ghost.
"Little brother, this is no place for you. You should leave," a young man said, gesturing for him to go.
"Who's in charge here?" Mo Lin asked.
"No idea. The overseer hasn't arrived yet," the man replied slowly.
Mo Lin paused, contemplating how to stop these people from meddling.
As he mulled over his options, a woman with her hair neatly tied up caught his eye. She stood out starkly from the others—dressed in a sleek black coat and issuing quiet instructions to those around her.
Before long, the woman noticed Mo Lin as well.
"Handsome, it's dangerous here. You should leave," she warned.
From the very first glance, Mo Lin could tell—this woman was the linchpin of the group.
She had to be the one in charge of the operation.
"You're here to catch a ghost?" Mo Lin asked her.
"Mm," she nodded. "There's a powerful spirit here. It could hurt you. Best if you leave now."
"You're the one trying to capture it?" he asked again.
"Yes, I am."
"Good," Mo Lin breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Zhuge Mingyue frowned, sensing a hint of disdain.
"That ghost is formidable. You're no match for it. I'd advise you not to try," Mo Lin said.
It wasn't that he looked down on her—it was simply that the ghost had nearly broken through to a new level. Zhuge Mingyue would likely be outmatched.
"Heh… there's no ghost I can't catch," Zhuge Mingyue dismissed his warning with a scoff.
Mo Lin didn't argue. He simply found a spot and sat down to rest.
"You're not leaving?" she asked, perplexed.
Mo Lin shook his head. "No."
He still intended to capture that ghost—how could he just walk away?
Seeing that he wasn't budging, Zhuge Mingyue stopped trying to convince him and turned her attention to orchestrating the preparations.
The team worked tirelessly. By the time everything was set, the sky had darkened—it was already seven in the evening.
A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, and the chirping of birds could still be heard overhead.
Mo Lin lay back on the grass, resting.
Then suddenly, the birdsong ceased.
At some point, a thick fog had crept in, shrouding the mountain in dense mist.
"Everyone be alert. The ghost is about to emerge," Zhuge Mingyue's voice rang across the hillside.
Mo Lin sat up instantly, eyes fixed on the thickening fog in the distance.
A shadow gradually took form—it was the figure of a woman. Her empty eye sockets were void of pupils, and her decaying, pus-weeping face was utterly grotesque.
Her horrifying visage sent chills down spines.
Zhuge Mingyue immediately snapped to attention. "Prepare to capture it!" she commanded.
With a rustle of motion, four men sprang into action, each wielding a red rope.
The ropes sprang into the air, encircling the ghost from all sides.
At the same time, a net woven from red thread descended from above.
Everything happened in an instant.
Crackle!
The net landed on the ghost's form with a sizzle, red energy crackling upon contact.
One of the men flung a handful of sacred ash toward her.
"Aaaahhh!" the ghost let out a piercing shriek—the ash clearly inflicted serious harm.
As the ash touched her decaying skin, it sparked a smoky reaction.
Their techniques were skilled and fluid.
Had this been an ordinary fierce-class ghost, she would already have been subdued.
But this wasn't any fierce-class ghost—this was a nightmare-class spirit.
With a flick of her wrist, a black light coalesced in the ghost's palm before slicing outward like a blade.
It was one of her ghost arts—Phantom Slash.
The red net tore open in a single blow.
Seizing the opportunity, she burst through the gap.
Freed from the net's bindings, her true power erupted forth.
Zhuge Mingyue's brows knitted tightly.
A nightmare-class ghost!
She hadn't known that beforehand. According to the intel, it was only a terror-class.
Clearly, the report was wrong.
"This is a nightmare-class ghost! Fall back immediately!" she shouted.
But her warning came too late.
Squelch—
Blood sprayed through the air as the ghost's arm pierced cleanly through a young man's chest.
It was the wrath of a nightmare-class entity—no ordinary human could hope to withstand it.
The rest of the group quickly retreated, hiding in fear.
Just then, the symbols they had drawn earlier on the ground began to glow with golden light.
It was a formation—a trap laid in advance. Without it, the mountain would have become a massacre.
The ghost was now caught within the golden glow, temporarily trapped.
But none of Zhuge Mingyue's team dared step into the formation.
The situation had reached a tense stalemate.
The ghost hurled black energy blades at the golden barrier, chipping away at its light.
Bit by bit, the formation weakened—the ghost could break free at any moment.
"Senior Sister, what do we do now?" one of the younger men asked.
"You all leave. I'll handle this," Zhuge Mingyue said coldly.
"But—" the man tried to argue, but she cut him off.
"Take them and go."
The young man hesitated no more. He knew there was little they could do now.
So he led the others away, leaving Zhuge Mingyue alone.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a blue talisman.
A closer look revealed it bore striking resemblance to the Thunder Talisman Mo Lin had once used.
But its material was different—this one was clearly a replica.
Whoosh—
The ghost shattered the formation and lunged at her.
Zhuge Mingyue activated the imitation Thunder Talisman—bolts of blue lightning danced across her body.
Electric arcs, like coiling thunder-dragons, wrapped around her.
Holding the talisman between her forefinger and middle finger, she charged straight at the ghost.
Their battle was evenly matched, though Zhuge Mingyue seemed to be slightly overwhelmed.
Each time the ghost launched a Phantom Slash, her lightning would barely deflect it.
But with each strike, the talisman in her hand dimmed, fading ever faster...