"Indeed, we once served Yedou."
The old crone spoke in a hushed tone, rising slowly to approach the crimson wooden table before her. She lit three incense sticks once more.
This table, lacquered a deep vermilion, bore an incense burner at its center, and directly ahead stood a carved likeness of King Yama, Lord of the Underworld.
"Seven years ago, when the specters first descended upon the mortal realm, we still maintained channels with Yedou. A few offerings of spirit–money to King Yama would summon his emissaries to attend to even the smallest matters."
Suddenly, the crone's voice shifted, heavy with regret. "But a year later, everything changed. No matter how we reached out, Yedou fell silent."
At that time, the ghostly invasion rendered those of us who dabbled in the nethermost arts most vulnerable to possession. To protect ourselves, many of the spirit–wives followed my example and sought communion with the denizens of the ghost realm; others allied themselves with the Order of the Naihe Bridge.
The crone recounted to Mo Lin the full history: their betrayal of Yedou sprang solely from his inexplicable quietude.
"Stop lighting them…" Mo Lin, growing impatient as the crone kindled a fresh set of incense, chided her. "Your spirit–dulling incense does nothing for a mortal like me."
Since his arrival, Mo Lin had watched her perform the ritual: harmless to humans, yet lethal to ghosts—a cunning trap indeed, but ineffectual against one who was flesh and blood.
The crone stiffened, her deception laid bare, and an awkward silence settled.
"Demonstrate your method of summoning Yedou. I'll observe." Mo Lin's voice was calm, yet firm.
"Very well." She nodded, selecting a single incense stick. She knelt, murmuring arcane syllables as she lit it. Wisps of pale smoke wafted toward the statue of King Yama, flowing into its carved eyes and mouth.
By all rights, Yedou should have answered her call. Yet no response came. The only explanation: Yedou himself had been compromised. That, Mo Lin concluded, was the sole reason for his silence.
"No need to show more. I understand now." Mo Lin signaled her to stop. The crone extinguished the incense and returned to her seat.
"What I truly wish to learn concerns the Ghost Realm." Mo Lin leaned forward, his gaze intent.
"The formidable spirit from the Ghost Domain has come to Yunchuan. You shall encounter it soon enough," the crone replied, her tone unhurried.
"I accept responsibility for my errors." She bowed her head, glancing at her granddaughter. Placing a trembling hand atop the girl's head, she implored, "I have but this one grandchild—mercy, I beg you. Release her."
"To free your granddaughter, you must aid me against the Ghost Realm," Mo Lin stated simply.
The crone hesitated, casting fearful glances at the two specters standing behind her—apparitions sent to monitor her every move. Mo Lin noted her anxiety.
"Do not fear them." With a swift motion, he seized the head of one ghost. The other, sensing danger, attempted to flee. Mo Lin flicked his wrist, unleashing a spectral chain—a Soul–Chain—that snaked from his hand and ensnared the fleeing spirit.
The bound ghost thrashed and rattled its ethereal form, but Mo Lin's next strike—a backhanded slap—sent it staggering, its power momentarily sapped. In under two minutes, Mo Lin had subdued both wraiths. Their information inscribed itself within his Ghost-Subduing Tome:
Name: Rong Feng Tier: Nightmare-Level Ability: Phantom Replica (creates a spectral duplicate) Nether Coin Yield: 80 coins per day
Name: Gan Liangjun Tier: Nightmare-Level Ability: Soul Seizure Nether Coin Yield: 80 coins per day
Ten wraiths now lay vanquished, and as Mo Lin surveyed his Tome, a radiant message glowed upon its page:Congratulations on completing the task. Your Nether Coin income has increased tenfold.
Mo Lin could not suppress a laugh of delight—such windfall was heaven-sent! He checked the revised entry:
Name: Gan Liangjun Tier: Nightmare-Level Ability: Soul Seizure Nether Coin Yield: 800 coins per day
True enough, the yield had multiplied tenfold. A quick reckoning: with ten Nightmare-Level ghosts under his command, Mo Lin now earned eight thousand nether coins each day—eighty thousand in ten days, two hundred forty thousand in a month. In a mere decade, his personal fortune would eclipse even Yedou's treasury.
"Are you all right?" the crone asked, observing Mo Lin's gleeful expression.
"I'm fine," he replied, smoothing his features.
"Those ghosts were sent by the Ghost Realm to watch you, weren't they?" Mo Lin turned to the spirit-wife.
She nodded, eyes downcast.
"I offer you one choice: remain loyal to the Ghost Realm or join me."
Though posed as an option, it was, in truth, no choice at all—defiance against the Ghost Realm spelled certain doom. After a tense pause, the crone answered, "I choose to follow you."
"As you wish." Mo Lin nodded, summoning a circle of dark energy around his black ring. A dozen lesser spirits materialized, one of them a Fearsome-Level wraith.
"These are yours now," Mo Lin informed her. Beneath the guise of a gift, they served both as her guard and her watch. As for tending to them, the crone had her own methods, which Mo Lin neither questioned nor interfered with.
They exchanged contacts. "When I require your aid, I will summon you," he said. With that, Mo Lin departed, accompanied by Zhuge Mingyue.
"Is that it? Aren't you worried she might stab you in the back?" Mingyue queried once they had left the old crone behind.
"Those possessed by cunning seldom act foolishly," Mo Lin replied with quiet confidence.
After ensuring Mingyue's safe return to the inn, Mo Lin headed home. His phone rang, and a deep voice murmured, "Two days hence, at seven in the evening, the broker of Underworld Messengers will arrive at the Jin Temple. Be punctual."
Before Mo Lin could inquire further, the line went dead. A flash of murderous intent ignited in his eyes. The moment he had awaited was finally upon him.
Later, Mo Lin watched a tutorial video on Qi–Control Techniques. The steps were neither arcane nor complex: simply follow the method, focus on the presence of Qi—the Primordial Qi. After more than five hours of practice, Mo Lin at last perceived its subtle pulse within him.
o4-mini