The warm rain faded into a drizzle by the time Chen Fan rolled his scooter into the narrow alley of Yunjing City's old town. The neon glow of the convenience store at the end painted the wet bricks in streaks of pink and blue. His tiny attic room was tucked under the roof of a creaky three-story building— the kind where the stairs groaned with every step, and the windows leaked when it rained.
He dragged himself up the stairs, his delivery jacket heavy with rain, the compass around his neck still thrumming with a faint warmth. The moment he reached the door to his room, he heard it— the loud, obnoxious sound of someone pounding on wood.
"Chen Fan! You deadbeat! Open up!"
The voice was high-pitched and grating, familiar enough to make Chen Fan's jaw tighten. It was his landlord, Old Li— a pot-bellied man with a permanent scowl, who loved nothing more than collecting rent early and complaining about everything.
Chen Fan pushed the door open. The first thing he saw was Old Li, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips, his face red with anger. Behind him loomed a taller, slimmer figure— a guy in a designer hoodie, his hair gelled back so hard it looked like a helmet, a gold chain glinting around his neck.
Wang Kun.
Chen Fan recognized him instantly. The spoiled brat son of a local real estate tycoon, famous for crashing his sports cars and picking fights with people who couldn't fight back. He'd seen him once at the convenience store, yelling at the cashier for getting his coffee order wrong.
Arrogant. Stupid. Exactly the kind of guy who thought money could fix everything.
"Look who finally showed up," Old Li sneered, jabbing a finger at Chen Fan's chest. "Your rent is three days late! You think you can live in my building for free? I've got people lining up to take this room!"
Chen Fan brushed his hand away, his face calm. "I'll have the rent by tomorrow. The delivery tips were slow this week."
Wang Kun snickered. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes scanning Chen Fan's tiny room— the single bed with the frayed blanket, the stack of instant noodles on the desk, the wooden sword hidden under the mattress (Chen Fan's gaze flicked to it for a split second, just to make sure it was still there).
"Three days late?" Wang Kun said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Wow. You really are a loser. This dump costs what? Two hundred bucks a month? My dad's driver makes that in an hour."
He stepped forward, his expensive sneakers squelching on the wet floor. He reached out and grabbed the delivery box hanging from Chen Fan's scooter, yanking it hard enough to make the plastic rattle. "What's in here? More cheap noodles? You live on this garbage?"
Old Li nodded, his scowl deepening. "This is why you're a deadbeat, Chen Fan. No ambition. No money. Just—"
He stopped mid-sentence. Because Chen Fan was staring at Wang Kun's back.
The compass around Chen Fan's neck had suddenly flared to life, burning hot against his skin. The needle was spinning so fast it was a blur, then locking into place— pointing straight at the space between Wang Kun's shoulder blades.
Chen Fan's eyes narrowed. He could see it now, a faint wisp of black mist curling around Wang Kun's neck, clinging to his hoodie like a leech. It was faint— almost invisible to anyone who didn't know what to look for— but it was there. A ghost. A weak one, but angry.
Just like Dad said, Chen Fan thought, a cold clarity settling over him. The compass finds the rot. Even the rot that sticks to people like glue.
He could feel the ghost's presence now— a faint, sickening chill, like the air before a storm. He could tell it was a kid, maybe twelve or thirteen. Angry. Scared. Clinging to Wang Kun because he was full of the same ugly energy— the arrogance, the cruelty, the way he thought he was better than everyone else.
"What are you staring at?" Wang Kun snapped, noticing Chen Fan's gaze. He let go of the delivery box and shoved Chen Fan hard, sending him stumbling backward into the wall. "You got a problem, delivery boy? Huh? You think you can look at me like that?"
Old Li laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "He knows his place, Wang. Don't waste your time on this loser."
But Wang Kun wasn't listening. He was staring at the compass around Chen Fan's neck— the glowing metal, the spinning needle. His nose wrinkled in disgust. "What's that? A toy? You still play with kids' stuff? Pathetic."
He reached out, his hand closing around the compass. He yanked it hard, trying to tear it from Chen Fan's neck.
That was a mistake.
The second Wang Kun's fingers touched the compass, the ghost on his back let out a shriek— a sound so high-pitched it made Chen Fan's ears ring. The faint wisp of black mist exploded into a swirling cloud, coiling around Wang Kun's body like a snake. Wang Kun froze, his eyes rolling back in his head, his body convulsing like he was having a seizure.
"Wh— what the hell?" Old Li yelped, jumping back so fast he tripped over his own feet and fell on his butt. "Wang! Wang, are you okay?!"
Wang Kun let out a scream— not his own voice, but a kid's, high and terrified. "You hurt me! You pushed me! I'm gonna make you pay!"
He lunged forward, his fingers curling into claws, his face twisted in a rage that didn't belong to him. The ghost was in control now, using his body like a puppet. It was angry— angry at Wang Kun for whatever he'd done, angry at everyone who had ever let him get away with being a spoiled brat.
Old Li scrambled to his feet, his face white as a sheet. He started yelling, his voice cracking. "Ghost! There's a ghost! Help! Somebody help!"
He turned and ran down the stairs, his footsteps thudding so hard the whole building shook. He didn't look back.
Wang Kun— or rather, the ghost inside him— charged at Chen Fan, his claws aimed straight at Chen Fan's throat.
Chen Fan didn't flinch. He didn't even move. He just stood there, his eyes fixed on the ghost's presence, his mind calm and clear.
This is a weak spirit, he thought. It's clinging to Wang Kun because it's scared. Angry, but scared.
Xia Wanxing's face flashed through his mind— the way she'd screamed, the way she'd waved her cash around like it could fix everything. The way she'd been so arrogant until the ghost had almost killed her. Wang Kun was the same. Stupid. Arrogant. Too blind to see the danger right in front of him.
The ghost's claws were inches from his throat. Chen Fan took a deep breath, his hand closing around the compass. He remembered the incantation from last night, the words his mother had mumbled to him as a child.
By blood and bone, show the light.
He whispered the words under his breath.
The compass exploded into a golden glow. The light flooded the tiny room, so bright it made Wang Kun scream and cover his eyes. The black mist around his body recoiled, hissing like a burned snake. The ghost's presence shrank, the anger fading into fear.
Chen Fan stepped forward, his voice steady, calm— the opposite of Wang Kun's screaming, the opposite of Old Li's panic. "You're not gonna hurt anyone else. Not anymore."
He reached out, his hand hovering over Wang Kun's shoulder. The compass in his palm glowed brighter, and the black mist started to unravel, the ghost's form becoming clearer— a small boy, with messy hair and a tear-streaked face, wearing a tattered jacket. He was staring at Chen Fan, his eyes wide with fear.
"I didn't mean to," the boy whispered, his voice so faint only Chen Fan could hear it. "He pushed me off the roof. I just wanted him to be sorry."
Chen Fan nodded. He could feel the truth in the words. Wang Kun had pushed this kid off a roof— probably for fun, probably because the kid had looked at him the wrong way. And then he'd walked away, his dad's money covering everything up.
The arrogance of the rich. The stupidity of thinking they could get away with murder.
"Sorry isn't enough," Chen Fan said, his voice quiet but firm. "But you don't have to cling to him anymore. You don't have to be angry."
He held out the compass. The golden light wrapped around the boy's ghost, warm and gentle, nothing like the harsh glow that had banished the spirit in the manor. The boy stared at him, his fear fading into something like relief. He smiled— a small, sad smile— and then he vanished, the black mist dissolving into the golden light, gone forever.
The glow faded. The compass stopped burning.
Wang Kun collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, his eyes wide with terror. He stared at Chen Fan, his face pale, his arrogance completely gone. He looked like a little kid, scared out of his mind.
"Wh— what did you do?" he stammered, his voice shaking. "What was that? Who are you?"
Chen Fan didn't answer. He walked over to his bed and sat down, his eyes fixed on the wooden sword under the mattress. He could feel it now— the faint hum of power, the way it called to him, like it had been waiting for years to wake up.
He was different now. Last night, he'd been a delivery boy just trying to make rent. Now… now he was something else. Something more.
Wang Kun scrambled to his feet, his legs still shaking. He didn't say anything else. He just ran— ran down the stairs, his expensive sneakers thudding against the wood, his gold chain swinging wildly. He didn't look back.
Chen Fan leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. The compass around his neck was warm, a comforting presence. He thought about the boy's ghost, about Wang Kun's terror, about Xia Wanxing's curiosity.
This was just the beginning.
He heard his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out. A text message— an unknown number.
I know you're not just a delivery boy. Meet me tomorrow at the ancient manor. 8 PM. Don't be late. — X
Chen Fan smiled. Xia Wanxing. Of course. She was a star. She loved secrets. And he had the biggest secret in Yunjing City.
He put the phone away, his eyes drifting back to the wooden sword under the mattress. He could feel it, thrumming in time with the compass. Waiting.
For the next ghost. For the next arrogant fool who thought they could get away with anything.
For whatever came next.
Teaser for Chapter 3:
Xia Wanxing shows up at the ancient manor with a proposition— a job that could make Chen Fan more money than he's ever seen. But the manor isn't empty. The ghost in the well is gone, but something else is lurking there— something older, something more dangerous. And this time, Chen Fan might not be the only one in danger.