"Ah…" Mo Lin muttered to Cui Xinyun. "Really?"
"I thought you were a ghost back then… so…" Her eyes gleamed with an icy light.
"Go on—if you're not afraid to die, speak freely…" she snapped.
"Who'd have imagined that a living soul could willingly forsake its body and enter the Underworld?" Mo Lin murmured under his breath.
Such a thing seemed utterly preposterous. Few could achieve such an impossible feat: to cast one's spirit from its vessel and wander the nether realms.
Cui Xinyun's brows curved in displeasure. She raised her slender hand, summoning a flicker of rose-pink flame at her fingertips. With a graceful arc, she sent the fire hurtling toward Mo Lin. He sprang aside just in time.
The flame struck the ground with a roar, surging upward in a pillar over a meter high. Had she moved but an instant slower, he would have been engulfed—and perhaps lost.
This woman, Cui Xinyun, was truly unhinged…
"Cui Xinyun," Mo Lin said, exasperated, "those events are long past. Shouldn't we look forward instead of dwelling on old grievances?"
Her eyes narrowed into slits, the embers of her fury only kindling further. He had violated her soul, and now he dared dismiss it with a single quip?
Everytime she recalled that vile memory, rage flared within her, jolting her awake at night. And he expected her years of smoldering wrath to vanish at his convenience?
Perhaps that ordeal had scarred her so deeply that she harbored no trust for any man, no lover. Her every waking thought was colored by his transgression—yet Mo Lin seemed entirely indifferent.
Fury consumed her anew.
"I think you'll need a new house," she declared, her voice cold as steel.
With those words, a blossom of flame alighted beneath the eaves of his villa. As if drenched in oil, the fire roared to life, engulfing the entire structure in crimson conflagration.
Mo Lin donned a mask of anguish. "That was my new home! What are you doing?"
His heart pounded—his possessions, his sanctuary, all reduced to ash. Where would he live now? Such madness…
Delighted by his distress, Cui Xinyun felt her long-suppressed anger finally ease. "It isn't my problem," she said, turning on her heel and departing.
Mo Lin stood in dazed shock. Some twisted impulse had driven her to torch his house, then vanish as casually as she came? What warped psyche could conceive such ruinous mischief?
And the fire would not be quelled—scarlet Lotus Karma Flames could not be extinguished by mortal means. He could only watch his home burn to ruin.
There was nothing left but to admit his misfortune. He slipped into a nearby inn that night, lodging in borrowed quarters.
...
Airport runway.
Nearly two hundred figures of power and prestige lined the tarmac in silent vigil. None dared board the plane until one person arrived—one of the most formidable in the ghost-hunting world.
The aircraft had stood idle in Yunchuan for five days; these magnates, among them founders of the Ghost-Taming Society and the Violet Dragon Sect, simmered with unspoken impatience—yet none dared complain. After all, they awaited the one known as the Immortal Human.
At last, a graceful silhouette emerged. She received their bows without haste.
"Let us go," Cui Xinyun's voice was like ice.
"Your Excellency… who in Yunchuan merits five days of your time?" a middle-aged man ventured.
"None of your concern," she rebuked softly. "Ask fewer questions."
He bowed, chastened, and the assembly followed her aboard.
A subtle thrill ran through them: Cui Xinyun's mood seemed surprisingly bright.
...
Mo Lin awoke at dawn and returned home. His villa lay nothing but smoldering ash. He sighed and resolved to ask Qian Yun to secure a new dwelling—of course, he'd pay handsomely.
Fortunately, his car remained intact in the underground garage; otherwise, it too might have perished in the flames. With nowhere else to go, he drove to the Jin Ancestral Hall and waited for the brokers of Underworld Messengers.
The hall stood eerily silent. No sentries guarded its gate—someone had arranged for them to avoid Mo Lin's arrival.
Pushing open the door, he found the caretakers busily moving their belongings, as though preparing to depart. Only immovable relics remained.
A middle-aged man with a goatee paused, noticing Mo Lin. "Brother Mo, wasn't our meeting tonight? Have I been too hasty?"
"No, it's fine—my house burned down, so I have nowhere else to stay," Mo Lin replied.
The man, Qing Yun, nodded and resumed directing the removal. He had even summoned movers to help.
"Are you tearing down the Jin Ancestral Hall?" Mo Lin asked.
"It's likely to be destroyed tonight. We're salvaging what we can to prevent unnecessary loss," Qing Yun explained.
"Please, have a seat," the hall's steward, Li Hui, invited him into the inner sanctuary. Only a single table remained.
"Why the sudden relocation?" Mo Lin inquired.
Li Hui sighed. "Tonight you will face a great battle. The hall will be caught in the crossfire; half our structures will be lost."
Mo Lin shook his head. "It won't be so dire."
"But when you unleash your wrath—'kill anyone who stands in your way'—these humble wooden halls won't stand a chance."
Li Hui shrugged philosophically. His faith endured: if the hall fell, he'd rebuild—even after Mo Lin's previous duel in Minghai Tower had leveled the entire skyscraper. The Jin Ancestral Hall was hardly as robust.