After Qian Wuhai and the others departed, a hush settled over the living room.
It grew so quiet that even the rustling of leaves outside could be clearly heard in the wind.
"Thank you," Xian Yun broke the silence, her voice soft but sincere.
"No need for thanks. I promised to help you capture a ghost, and I always keep my word," Mo Lin replied with calm conviction.
As if recalling something, he turned his gaze to her. "Didn't you say that if I captured a ghost for you, you'd give me a house and a car?"
Mo Lin was never one for empty gestures—he preferred tangible rewards.
"What kind of house would you like?" she asked promptly. "I can make the arrangements. As for the car, I'll have it delivered to you personally tomorrow."
To Xian Yun, matters like cars and houses were trivial. She might not be skilled in ghost-hunting, but in the world of real estate and assets, she was an expert. She had several partnerships with real estate developers under her command.
"I want a house steeped in yin energy," Mo Lin stated plainly.
His request wasn't without reason. Considering that his underworld acquaintances might one day visit the mortal realm, he needed a dwelling suitable for spirits—one rich in yin energy. Ghosts, after all, were drawn to such places. He also needed a place for the injured ghost warden he had previously rescued.
"I know just the place," Xian Yun replied. "There's a villa in the eastern district of Yunchuan, over a thousand square meters in size, saturated with yin energy. I'll give it to you."
"That'll do," Mo Lin nodded.
"Please wait a moment," Xian Yun said before disappearing from the room.
About five minutes later, she returned with a thick stack of hell currency in hand.
"Brother Mo, here are ten thousand spirit coins."
Mo Lin accepted the bundle and offered a word of thanks. "Thank you. I'll find a way to repay you."
With these coins, he could finally heal the ghost warden's wounds completely.
"Do you know any quick ways to earn more spirit coins?" Mo Lin asked. At this moment, he was in desperate need.
He still owed Wang Bing ten thousand coins—a debt that weighed heavily on his mind.
"I might have an idea," Xian Yun said thoughtfully. "But it may be a bit... unrealistic."
"Tell me."
"If you have ghost artifacts to sell, you could earn spirit coins very quickly," she said.
Indeed—ghost artifacts. They were rare and immensely valuable. Even a lower-grade ghost artifact could fetch several thousand spirit coins. Higher-quality ones might be worth tens of thousands. The demand among ghost tamers was always high, but the supply was painfully low.
That was because ghost artifacts were not manufactured—they were forged by ghosts themselves. Each artifact was considered a life-bound treasure, and a ghost would typically only forge one in its entire existence. It was unheard of for a ghost to willingly part with it unless under extraordinary circumstances—either being killed and looted, or forging multiple artifacts and selling one.
Mo Lin's pupils dilated.
A thought flashed in his mind.
Forge ghost artifacts?
Wasn't that child's play for him?
As an underworld official, Mo Lin possessed all the knowledge and power necessary to forge such items.
Even the King of Hell himself had once taught him the ancient techniques of artifact refinement.
The primary material? Spirit coins.
Now that he had enough, he could start crafting immediately.
"Even if you don't have any artifacts yet, it's alright. I can help you gather more coins," Xian Yun reassured him.
"If I had ghost artifacts, where would I sell them?" Mo Lin asked.
"In the heart of Yunchuan City, there's a place called the Four Directions Hall," she said. "It's a trading ground for ghost tamers. If you take your artifacts there, they'll sell. That, I can guarantee."
Mo Lin gave a curt nod. "Good."
Without further delay, he bid farewell and returned to the hotel to begin the crafting process.
...
In the hotel room—
Mo Lin stood at the center of the room, holding ten spirit coins of one hundred denomination in his right hand.
As the coins floated in the air, they disintegrated into spectral energy, slowly coalescing into the shape of a small dagger about ten centimeters long.
At first, it was only a faint silhouette, a mere phantom.
Mo Lin focused, guiding the shadow of the dagger to hover mid-air as he began to solidify its form.
His hands moved in intricate patterns, each gesture rooted in ancient underworld rituals.
As the dagger began to gain shape, he inserted smaller denomination coins—ten-coin notes, then one-coin notes—each contributing a fragment of essence.
These movements were part of the legendary forging technique passed down by the King of Hell himself.
In all the underworld, fewer than ten individuals had mastered it.
Mo Lin could only forge ghost artifacts; yin artifacts were beyond his skill for now—they were far more advanced.
After about thirty minutes, he completed the first artifact.
A dagger—simple, deadly, and functional.
This wasn't the kind of artifact that could be used indefinitely.
It was a lower-grade item, with limited charges—seven uses, at most, before its ghostly energy would be depleted.
But that was enough. It would serve to resolve minor threats.
Of course, there were advanced ghost artifacts that could be used without limitation, but crafting those was another story altogether.
The process was long, the steps complex, and the cost in spirit coins was staggering.
Even the simplest of such high-grade items required at least ten thousand coins to forge. Some, with added effects or unique powers, could cost upward of a hundred thousand coins.
Mo Lin didn't have the resources—or the patience—for such an endeavor.
Besides, he already possessed yin artifacts, making ghost artifacts a mere convenience.
With the first item complete, he began working on the second.
He didn't follow any fixed shape. The form of the artifact—blade, fork, axe, or otherwise—depended entirely on his whim.
Defensive ghost artifacts were a different beast, requiring more coins and more time.
Consume coins. Forge. Repeat.
Through the night, Mo Lin performed the same motions over and over.
By dawn, he had completed four lower-grade ghost artifacts.
The cost? Over seven thousand spirit coins.
Almost the entire loan from Xian Yun had been spent.
But four artifacts should sell for a handsome sum.
Unknowingly, the sky had brightened. It was five in the morning.
Too exhausted to continue, Mo Lin gave up on further forging and lay down to sleep.
...
When he next opened his eyes, sunlight streamed through the window, warming his face.
It was already one in the afternoon.
"Sir, you're awake."
As he opened the door, a woman in a red dress greeted him respectfully.
She looked as though she had been waiting outside for a long time.
"And you are?" Mo Lin asked.
"I've been sent by Miss Xian Yun to deliver your car," she replied, holding out a set of keys.
"Miss Xian Yun purchased this for you. It's parked outside the hotel entrance."
Outside, a gleaming black Rolls-Royce awaited him, brand new and with fresh license plates.
From the car alone, it was clear—Xian Yun had spared no expense.