The first rays of morning light barely pierced the smog-choked sky over Yunjing City when Chen Fan's phone blared, its cracked screen flashing with a call from an unknown number. He was curled up in his cramped rooftop cubicle, the stale smell of instant noodles clinging to his clothes, and the compass around his throat hummed softly—a faint warning that tugged at his senses. He'd just fallen asleep an hour ago, his muscles screaming from the previous night's dash through the abandoned subway station and the heart-wrenching battle with his father's ghost. The locket with the swirling symbol lay on his pillow, its metal cool against his palm, and the peachwood sword leaned against the bedframe, its surface glinting with a faint red sheen that only he could see.
"Who's this?" Chen Fan mumbled, his voice rough with sleep, as he swiped to answer the call. The line crackled, and a sharp, impatient female voice cut through the static, dripping with the kind of arrogance that only came from being born at the top of Yunjing's social ladder.
"This is Qin Shuran, CEO of Starcrest Group. My secretary got your number from Xia Wanxing's team—said you 'handled' that old manor mess last week. My company's downtown hospital is having… issues. Staff are seeing things, patients are waking up screaming, and the so-called master I hired ran off with half a million yuan last night. Be at Starcrest General Hospital in 30 minutes. My driver will be waiting at your address with a car. Don't be late."
The line went dead before Chen Fan could respond. He stared at his phone, a dry laugh escaping his lips. Qin Shuran—everyone in Yunjing knew the name. The 26-year-old heiress who'd turned her family's failing business into a billion-dollar empire, the woman who walked into boardrooms and made grown men tremble, the kind of person who thought money could fix anything. He'd delivered takeout to her office building once, had watched her step out of a luxury car in a tailored suit, her expression cold and dismissive as she brushed past a homeless man begging for change.
The compass around his throat warmed suddenly, its golden light flaring to life. Evil Aura Scan and Demon Slash, Chen Fan thought, the skill's name popping into his head unbidden. The compass pulsed three times, a signal that there was a low-to-moderate level of evil energy nearby—and that the hospital was ground zero. He swung his legs over the bed, wincing as his sore muscles protested, and grabbed the peachwood sword from the floor, tucking it into the back of his faded delivery jacket. He pulled on a pair of scuffed sneakers, grabbed his helmet, and headed downstairs, ignoring the landlord's shouts about overdue rent.
A sleek black sedan was parked at the end of the alley, its driver standing at attention in a crisp uniform. The man's eyes widened when he saw Chen Fan—his rumpled jacket, his beat-up helmet, his scuffed shoes—and he frowned, clearly questioning whether this was the person Qin Shuran had sent him to pick up. "Mr. Chen?" the driver said, his tone skeptical. "Ms. Qin said to take you to the hospital immediately."
Chen Fan nodded, sliding into the backseat without a word. The car glided through Yunjing's bustling streets, the city's skyline of gleaming skyscrapers rising in the distance. He stared out the window, watching as street vendors set up their stalls and office workers rushed to catch the subway, and the compass in his hand hummed steadily, mapping the faint traces of evil energy that lingered in the air—leftovers from the seal he'd stabilized the night before.
Starcrest General Hospital loomed ahead, a towering glass-and-steel structure that glinted in the morning sun. But as the car pulled into the parking lot, Chen Fan's nose wrinkled. The air was thick with the sickly sweet smell of rot, the kind that clung to ghosts and evil spirits, and the compass in his hand flared bright red, its needle spinning wildly. The driver paled, clutching the steering wheel tightly. "I've been feeling weird here for days," he muttered. "Like someone's watching me. But Ms. Qin said it's just stress."
Chen Fan stepped out of the car, the peachwood sword thrumming against his back. The hospital's entrance was crowded with reporters, their cameras flashing as they shouted questions at a group of panicked-looking staff members. A woman in a tailored white suit stood at the top of the steps, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, her expression icy. It was Qin Shuran. Her eyes locked onto Chen Fan, and her lips curled into a sneer.
"You're later than I expected," she said, her voice loud enough for the reporters to hear. She glanced at his delivery jacket, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Xia Wanxing said you were a 'specialist.' You look like a delivery boy who can't afford a new coat. This better not be a waste of my time."
The reporters laughed, their cameras flashing even faster. Chen Fan said nothing, his gaze sweeping over the hospital's facade. The compass in his hand pulsed, its golden light cutting through the rot in the air, and he spotted it—the formation core, the eye of the evil energy's network. It was hidden in the hospital's rooftop water tank, its surface covered in the same swirling symbols as the locket and the manor's walls.
"Your so-called master was a fraud," Chen Fan said, his voice calm and steady, cutting through the noise. "He didn't know what he was doing. He tried to seal the evil energy with fake talismans, but all he did was make it angrier. The formation's core is on the rooftop water tank. If you don't let me take care of it, one of your patients will die in the next hour. A little girl in room 302. She's got a weak soul—perfect for the evil spirit to possess."
Qin Shuran's face turned red with anger. "How dare you?" she shouted, stepping forward and jabbing a finger at his chest. "I paid that master half a million yuan! You think you can waltz in here, dressed like a bum, and tell me what to do? Get out of here before I call security and have you thrown in jail for trespassing!"
The compass burned hot against Chen Fan's throat. Body Protection Alert, the passive skill activating. He felt a sudden wave of cold air brush past his ear, and he turned just in time to see a shadowy figure—its face twisted in agony, its fingers long and clawed—lurking behind Qin Shuran, its hand reaching for her neck.
"Get down!" Chen Fan shouted, grabbing Qin Shuran's arm and yanking her to the ground. The shadowy figure hissed, its hand passing through the spot where her head had been a second earlier, and it turned its glowing red eyes on Chen Fan, its mouth opening in a silent scream.
Qin Shuran landed hard on the pavement, her suit jacket tearing at the elbow. She stared at the shadowy figure, her face draining of color, and she let out a shriek that echoed across the parking lot. The reporters scattered, their cameras clattering to the ground, and the staff members ran for the entrance, slamming the doors shut behind them.
"That's the evil spirit," Chen Fan said, standing up and drawing the peachwood sword from his jacket. The sword's surface flared with red light, the Evil Aura Scan and Demon Slash skill activating as the compass marked the spirit's weak point—its chest, where a faint swirling symbol glowed. "It's a former employee of your hospital. He died in a fire here three years ago. You covered it up to protect the hospital's reputation, didn't you?"
Qin Shuran stared at him, her eyes wide with terror. "How do you know that?" she whispered.
Chen Fan didn't answer. He charged forward, the peachwood sword raised high, and he drove the blade straight into the spirit's chest, hitting the weak point dead-on. The spirit let out a bloodcurdling scream, its body dissolving into a cloud of black mist, and the mist was burned away by the sword's red light, leaving nothing but a faint wisp of golden energy that drifted upward toward the sky.
The compass in Chen Fan's hand cooled, its golden light dimming to a soft glow. He lowered the peachwood sword, his breathing steady, and turned to look at Qin Shuran. She was still on the ground, her body trembling, her face pale as a sheet. She stared at him, her expression a mix of fear and awe, and she slowly pushed herself up to her feet, brushing the dirt off her torn suit.
"You… you just killed a ghost," she said, her voice shaking.
"I purified it," Chen Fan corrected. "It was trapped here, angry and alone. You could have fixed this three years ago, but you chose to cover it up. Money can't buy you forgiveness, Ms. Qin. And it can't buy you protection from evil spirits."
Qin Shuran stared at him for a long moment, her arrogant facade crumbling. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and she finally nodded, her voice small. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was… stupid. I thought money could fix everything." She paused, then looked up at him, her eyes determined. "How much do I owe you? Name your price. And… whatever you need. Starcrest Group's resources are yours. If you need help with anything—anything at all—just say the word."
Chen Fan smiled faintly, tucking the peachwood sword back into his jacket. He glanced at his phone, noting the time—he was late for his delivery shift. "10,000 yuan. And tell your landlord to stop bothering me about the rent." He turned to leave, then paused, looking back at Qin Shuran. "And Ms. Qin? Next time you have a ghost problem, don't waste your money on a fraud. Call the guy who actually knows what he's doing."
He walked away, leaving Qin Shuran standing in the parking lot, staring after him, as the sun rose higher over Yunjing City. The compass around his throat hummed softly, a signal that the next evil energy source was already calling—and that the next big fight was just around the corner.
Teaser for Chapter 8
A deadly crash at Yunjing's racetrack draws Chen Fan's attention, and he meets Su Qingyan—the reckless racing queen who thinks she's invincible. But when a vengeful ghost takes control of her car, she'll learn that even speed can't outrun evil.