The rain lashed down on Yunjing City's ancient alleyways, turning the cobblestones slick and glistening. Chen Fan hunched over his electric scooter, the frayed collar of his delivery jacket doing little to block the cold wind. The phone in his pocket buzzed for the third time—another complaint from the customer about the delayed order.
"Ancient Yun Manor, Room 3," he muttered, squinting at the address on his screen. The manor loomed ahead, a decaying behemoth shrouded in mist, its roof tiles cracked, ivy crawling up the walls like black veins. It was the kind of place locals whispered about after dark—the kind where people went in but never came out the same.
Chen Fan parked his scooter by the rusted iron gate and grabbed the food bag. The moment he stepped through the gate, a bone-chilling gust of wind hit him, carrying the stench of rot and something metallic, like old blood. The air grew thick, heavy with a cold that seeped into his bones, even through his jacket. He frowned, his hand instinctively drifting to the worn compass hanging around his neck—a family heirloom, the only thing his parents had left him. The metal warmed against his skin, almost burning, and he frowned. This old thing's acting up again, he thought, a faint flicker of memory tugging at his mind—something about his father's gruff voice warning him the compass would "wake up" when darkness was near.
Inside the manor's courtyard, chaos reigned. Film crew equipment was scattered everywhere, lights flickering on and off, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. A group of people huddled by the entrance, their faces pale, chattering nervously. At the center of the crowd stood Xia Wanxing, the A-list actress whose face graced every billboard in Yunjing City. She was dressed in a flowing red costume, her hair disheveled, her usually flawless makeup smudged with tears.
"Who let the delivery guy in?!" a sharp voice cut through the noise. It was Xia Wanxing's manager, waving a wad of cash in Chen Fan's face. "Take this and get out. We don't need your cheap food right now. The set is cursed—"
"Cursed?" Chen Fan raised an eyebrow, ignoring the cash. He glanced around, his eyes landing on a cracked stone well in the corner of the courtyard. The compass in his hand grew suddenly scorching hot, burning against his skin. The needle spun wildly, faster and faster, until it locked into place, pointing straight at the well's gaping mouth. Just like Dad said, a quiet voice echoed in his head. It finds the rot.
Xia Wanxing stepped forward, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she looked Chen Fan up and down—his scuffed shoes, his rain-soaked jacket, the faded delivery logo on his chest. "You're the delivery guy? Look at you—you're a mess. How dare you show up here like this? Do you even know who I am?"
Her voice was laced with arrogance, the kind of tone that came from being worshipped by millions. She crossed her arms over her chest, her red sleeves fluttering in the wind. "This is a private film set. Know your place, you're just trash. Now get out before I call security and have you thrown into the gutter."
Chen Fan said nothing. He was too busy staring at the well. The air around it was practically humming with dark energy, thick and suffocating. He could feel it—something was down there, something angry, something hungry.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air. A young crew member had wandered too close to the well. He froze, his eyes rolling back in his head, his body convulsing as if an invisible force was yanking him toward the well's mouth.
Panic erupted. The crew members scattered, screaming, tripping over each other in their haste to escape. Xia Wanxing let out a shriek, stumbling backward, her expensive red costume tearing on a jagged stone. She fumbled in her purse, pulling out a stack of cash, waving it wildly. "Help! Someone help him! I'll give you a million—no, ten million! Just save him!"
Her manager was yelling into his phone, his voice cracking. "Security! Get over here now! The set is haunted—"
But no one dared to move. The crew members were huddled behind equipment, their faces white with terror. The security guards, who had finally arrived, stood frozen at the gate, their hands trembling on their batons.
The crew member's body was now hovering inches above the well's mouth, his limbs flailing uselessly. A low, guttural growl echoed from the well, a sound that made Chen Fan's teeth ache. Black mist oozed out of the well, coiling around the crew member like a snake, pulling him down, down—
"Enough."
The word was quiet, but it cut through the chaos like a knife. Everyone turned to look at Chen Fan. He was standing at the edge of the courtyard, his hand still wrapped around the compass, his face calm—eerily calm, considering the carnage unfolding in front of him.
Xia Wanxing stared at him, her eyes widening in disbelief. "You? What are you doing? Are you crazy? Get away from there—"
Chen Fan ignored her. He could feel the compass burning hotter and hotter, the needle thrumming against his palm. He knew what was happening—the ghost in the well was a vengeful spirit, trapped for decades, lashing out at anyone who dared to trespass on its territory. And Xia Wanxing's screaming, her arrogance, her useless cash—it had only made it angrier. The compass's glow intensified, and a faint, forgotten incantation rose unbidden to his lips, a phrase his mother had mumbled to him as a child before she vanished. By blood and bone, summon the blade.
The black mist suddenly shifted, abandoning the crew member and lunging straight for Chen Fan. It coalesced into a grotesque figure—a woman with long, matted hair, her face twisted in rage, her fingers tipped with black claws. She let out a shriek that made the windows rattle, her mouth opening wide to reveal rows of sharp, yellow teeth.
Xia Wanxing let out a scream, collapsing to the ground, her cash fluttering around her like red leaves. "It's going to kill him! He's going to die!"
The ghost's claws were inches from Chen Fan's throat. He could feel its cold breath on his face, the stench of rot filling his nostrils. But he didn't move. He just stood there, his eyes fixed on the ghost's chest—the compass's needle was pointing straight at it, a bright red dot glowing on the ghost's rotting heart.
This is the weak point.
The thought popped into his head, clear and sharp. He mouthed the incantation again, and a surge of warm energy exploded from the compass, flowing down his arm, reaching across the miles to the tiny attic room where the wooden sword lay hidden under his bed. For a split second, the air in front of him warped, rippling like heat haze over asphalt, and then the sword was there—its rough hilt fitting perfectly in his hand, a faint golden light wrapping around the blade like a veil.
The ghost's claws were now touching his throat, a cold that burned like ice. But Chen Fan didn't flinch. He gripped the sword's hilt tightly, the compass in his other hand glowing brighter and brighter.
"Get away from him!" Xia Wanxing screamed, but her voice was faint, distant.
Chen Fan raised the sword. The ghost let out a shriek of rage, lunging forward—
And then, he struck.
The sword sliced through the air, a flash of golden light that left afterimages in the air. It hit the ghost square in the chest, right where the compass's needle was pointing. The ghost let out a blood-curdling scream, a sound that made the ground shake. Black mist exploded from its body, curling into the air, dissolving into nothingness.
The courtyard fell silent. The rain stopped. The wind died down.
The crew member collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, unharmed.
Chen Fan stood there, the sword still in his hand, the compass glowing softly in his palm. He looked down at the sword—the blade was now etched with red lines, like veins, pulsing with a faint light. He felt different—stronger, sharper, like a part of him that had been asleep for years had finally woken up. The sword vanished as quietly as it had appeared, leaving only a faint tingling in his fingers.
The silence was broken by a gasp. Xia Wanxing was staring at him, her mouth hanging open, her face pale. The cash she had been waving around was scattered at her feet, forgotten. Her arrogance was gone, replaced by something that looked a lot like fear—and maybe, just maybe, a hint of awe, and a flicker of curiosity that glinted in her eyes. She was a star who had everything, but she'd never seen anything like this—never seen a nobody delivery guy wield a glowing sword and banish a ghost like it was nothing.
"You—you saved him," she stammered, her voice trembling. "How did you—"
Chen Fan didn't answer. He turned to pick up the food bag he had dropped earlier. He walked over to the crew member, who was still lying on the ground, and handed him the bag.
"Your order," he said, his voice calm. "It's cold now. Sorry about the delay."
The crew member stared at him, speechless.
Chen Fan turned to leave. He had other deliveries to make. Rent was due tomorrow, and his landlord was already breathing down his neck.
But before he could reach the gate, Xia Wanxing called out to him. She was standing now, her red costume still torn, her hair still messy, but her voice was different—softer, less arrogant, with a sharp edge of intrigue.
"Wait!" she called. "What's your name? I—I need to pay you. For saving him. For saving all of us."
Chen Fan paused, his hand on the gate. He glanced back at her, his face still calm. "Chen Fan. And keep your money. It's just a delivery job."
He stepped through the gate, the compass still glowing softly around his neck, the memory of the sword's weight still in his hand.
Behind him, Xia Wanxing stared at his retreating figure, her eyes wide. She had met countless people in her life—billionaires, movie stars, politicians—but none of them had ever looked at her like that. Like her fame, her money, her beauty—meant nothing. She knelt down, picking up a crumpled bill from the ground, her mind racing. Who was he? Where did he get that sword? And why did she suddenly feel like her boring, glamorous life was about to get a lot more interesting?
She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. "Manager," she said, her voice sharp and determined. "Find out everything you can about Chen Fan. Now."
The rain started again, but this time, it was warm. Chen Fan climbed onto his scooter, revving the engine. He looked up at the ancient manor, the mist swirling around it, and smiled.
Something told him this was just the beginning.
Teaser for Chapter 2:
The landlord is at Chen Fan's door, and he's not alone— Wang Kun, the arrogant rich kid, is right behind him, ready to make trouble. But when Wang Kun lays a hand on Chen Fan's delivery box, he's in for a shock. The compass is glowing, and the ghost clinging to Wang Kun's back is about to reveal itself. Will Chen Fan's newfound power be enough to deal with a ghost and a spoiled brat?