Qian Yun sat upright beside Mo Lin, her knees pressed demurely together. The black silk of her stockings shimmered faintly under the morning light, her delicate hands resting gently on her lap. Her eyes, clear as glass, fixed intently on Mo Lin with an expression that mirrored the awe of a child beholding a rare treasure.
"Do you want some?" Mo Lin asked casually, gesturing at the breakfast spread before him.
"I've already eaten, Brother Mo," Qian Yun replied politely, a soft smile curving her lips. "Please, enjoy it yourself."
Mo Lin didn't press further. With an indifferent shrug, he lowered his head and continued eating.
It wasn't until he had finished his meal and set down his bowl that Qian Yun finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Brother Mo… would you help me capture a ghost?"
There was a hesitance in her tone, a sense of cautious hope. As if fearing rejection, she hurried to add, "I won't ask for your help without offering something in return. I'll give you a ghost artifact."
As she spoke, she reached into her pocket and withdrew a small crimson cloth. Carefully, she unfolded it to reveal a delicate silver bell. The bell gleamed under the light, emitting a faint yet chilling aura of ghostly energy.
Qian Yun watched Mo Lin's expression nervously, her heart pounding. She had no way of knowing whether this gift would be enough to tempt a man like him.
Mo Lin gave the artifact a perfunctory glance. Though undeniably a ghost tool, saturated with heavy ghost qi, to him, it was of little consequence.
In the underworld, tools were divided into two ranks: ghost artifacts and yin artifacts. The former were commonly used by low-level spirits or minor ghost envoys, forged by imbuing one's own ghost qi into various vessels. While useful in some cases, to someone of Mo Lin's standing, such an item was worthless.
He had ascended far beyond the need for such trinkets. As a Yin Envoy, he possessed not one but four authentic yin artifacts—each one infinitely more powerful than the bell Qian Yun offered.
When Mo Lin remained silent, Qian Yun's anxiety deepened. She clenched her fists and quickly added, "I can offer you ten million in cash, a fully furnished house, and a Rolls-Royce. Please, I really need this."
Her voice trembled as she spoke. It was clear she wasn't making the offer lightly.
She had her reasons. Her younger brother and sister had already earned their places among the ghost tamers. If she failed to do the same, her influence within the Qian family would diminish rapidly, and soon, she'd be little more than a figurehead.
She had witnessed Mo Lin's abilities firsthand. If anyone could help her tame a ghost, it was him.
Mo Lin's brows furrowed slightly. Capturing a ghost was no trouble. The real issue lay in tracking one down.
"If you can help me locate a ghost envoy, I'll help you capture one," he said at last, proposing what he thought to be an impossible task.
"A ghost envoy?" Qian Yun echoed in surprise.
"Yes," Mo Lin confirmed. "Her name is Zi Shang Qingrou."
At the mention of the name, Qian Yun leapt to her feet, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you looking for the envoy from the Ye Dou faction?"
"Yes," Mo Lin replied.
"I may know of one," Qian Yun said breathlessly. "I'm not certain if she's the one you seek, but she does belong to Ye Dou."
"Where is she?"
Mo Lin hadn't expected a lead so quickly—it was a pleasant surprise.
Qian Yun's excitement gave way to hesitation. She bit her lip, visibly conflicted.
"Speak plainly," Mo Lin said, his tone sharp. He hated half-truths.
"She… she's being auctioned off," Qian Yun admitted at last.
Her voice was barely audible, and as soon as the words escaped her lips, she took two steps back, instinctively distancing herself from Mo Lin. She didn't know why, but in that moment, he felt terrifying. Though he hadn't moved a muscle, her every nerve was screaming in alarm.
"Auctioned?" Mo Lin's voice was low, almost a growl. Anger simmered beneath the surface, and it seeped into every syllable.
The thought of his senior sister, once the most powerful of ghost envoys, reduced to merchandise—it twisted something deep inside him.
"Brother Mo, please don't be angry," Qian Yun said quickly, attempting to calm him. "The auction is taking place at the Jin Temple."
The Jin Temple. Once a crumbling Daoist shrine, long devoid of incense or reverence. Only two old Daoists remained to tend its decaying halls.
It was slated to fall into ruin—until seven years ago.
The Night of Terror descended, and the world was drowned in ghosts. Chaos reigned across the nation. In those dark hours, countless Daoist temples reawakened, Jin Temple among them.
The reason for their resurgence was simple: Daoist relics—talismans, peach wood swords, red cords—possessed a natural ability to suppress the supernatural. People flocked to the temples for protection, and the once-poor Daoists rose to fame and power.
Now, seven years later, the decrepit shrine had transformed into a grand Daoist sanctuary, and its priests were names whispered with reverence—or fear.
"Take me there," Mo Lin ordered.
Seeing the storm behind Mo Lin's calm expression, Qian Yun tried to dissuade him.
"There are two Level-4 ghost tamers stationed at Jin Temple, along with five Level-3 tamers…"
"Just take me there," Mo Lin said. "You don't need to concern yourself with the rest. Afterward, I'll help you capture your ghost."
Realizing she couldn't change his mind, Qian Yun nodded reluctantly. "Alright."
Together, they exited the hotel. But before they could leave the lobby, a young man in a suit with a shaved head stepped into their path.
"Sister Qian Yun? Heading somewhere?" he asked with an oily grin.
Qian Yun's eyes narrowed. "It's none of your business."
She tried to pass, but he blocked her path.
"I'm afraid you're under house arrest," he said, a leer spreading across his face. "Orders from the family head."
Mo Lin's expression darkened.
"I have important matters to attend to. Don't get in my way," Qian Yun snapped.
"Oh? You mean the incident last night where five ghost tamers died? Or perhaps you mean giving away the family's rare artifacts? Or maybe you're referring to spending nearly ten thousand underworld coins in under a month?" he retorted with mock concern.
Qian Yun clenched her fists. Clearly, her actions had stirred resentment within the family.
"The old master intends to strip you of your title and confine you for six months," he added smugly.
"We'll discuss this later. I have more urgent matters now," Qian Yun said, glancing toward Mo Lin.
"You're not going anywhere," he barked, waving a hand.
Two burly men stepped forward, blocking their path with crossed arms.
"You're staying here until the old master arrives," he said firmly.
Qian Yun looked helplessly to Mo Lin.
"Move," Mo Lin growled, his voice cold and sharp.
"Who are you, dressed up like a cosplay reject? Stay out of this!" the man spat.
Mo Lin's patience snapped. His body surged forward, and with one swift, powerful kick, he sent the man crashing to the floor, gasping for air.
As a Yin Envoy, Mo Lin's physical strength alone was leagues above ordinary men.
Qian Yun didn't spare the man a second glance. She followed Mo Lin without hesitation. The two guards, cowed by her identity and Mo Lin's might, dared not intervene.
And just like that, they stepped out into the morning sun—on their way to the Jin Temple, where the fate of a ghost envoy hung in the balance.