Rainwater dripped from the eaves, striking the bluestone slabs with a crisp sound. Sang Mu stood in front of the old house, looking up at the three-story Western-style building. Ivy crawled all over its mottled walls, making it appear especially eerie in the rain.

“This is the place,” she murmured, reaching out to push open the creaking iron gate.

The client had only said the house was “haunted,” without giving any specifics. Sang Mu pulled a compass from her backpack—its needle began spinning wildly the moment it was out. She frowned. The reaction was far more intense than she had expected.

The instant she stepped into the front yard, the temperature plummeted. Her breath turned white in the air—it shouldn’t be this cold in June. Her right hand quietly moved to the pouch of talismans at her waist, while her left gripped the protective jade pendant around her neck.

“Is anyone here?” she called cautiously. Her voice echoed through the empty courtyard.

There was no response, only the sound of rain and distant, muffled thunder. Sang Mu walked toward the main building. With each step, the fallen leaves beneath her feet gave off an unsettling crunch. As she climbed the steps, a bone-chilling cold surged up through her soles.

“Doesn’t seem like an ordinary wandering spirit,” she muttered, taking a talisman from her bag and sticking it to the doorframe. The paper instantly turned black and crumbled into ash.

Her heartbeat quickened. A spirit capable of destroying a warding talisman that quickly had to be at least a B-rank malevolent spirit. She began to consider retreating and returning with stronger tools. But her professional instincts told her to at least investigate further.

The door was unlocked. With a gentle push, the heavy wooden door slowly opened, groaning in protest. Inside was pitch black, lit only briefly by occasional flashes of lightning. Dust and the scent of mildew rushed out, mixed with a vague but unmistakable stench of decay.

She switched on her flashlight, the beam slicing through the darkness. All the furniture in the living room was covered with white cloths, resembling silent, ghostly figures. The paintings on the walls hung askew—the eyes of the subjects seemed to follow her as she moved.

“I know you’re here,” Sang Mu said calmly. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to understand what happened.”

Suddenly, a cold wind rushed from behind and snuffed out her flashlight. Sang Mu spun around, pulling a sword made of copper coins from her belt. In the darkness, she could sense something drawing near.

“Reveal yourself!” she shouted, throwing a handful of cinnabar powder.

The red powder formed a mist in the air, outlining a vague humanoid shape—tall and twisted, its head tilted at an unnatural angle.

Sang Mu’s Yin-Yang Eyes finally saw it clearly: a male-shaped malevolent spirit, shrouded in black mist. Only its eyes—glowing with an eerie green light—were clearly visible. Its mouth stretched all the way to its ears, revealing jagged, uneven fangs.

“Leave… get out…” The ghost’s voice sounded like it came from underwater, distorted and echoing. “This… is… my… home…”

Sang Mu steadied her breathing and raised the coin sword. “You’re already dead. You don’t belong here. Tell me your obsession, and I can help you move on.”

The ghost let out a piercing, grating laugh that made her eardrums ache. The furniture around them began to shake violently, and the white sheets fell one by one.

“You… can’t help me…” the spirit’s form suddenly split into three, each one approaching from a different direction. “I want… all intruders… dead…”

Sang Mu quickly formed hand seals and began chanting an exorcism spell. The coin sword glowed with a faint golden light, but the ghost merely staggered slightly—it wasn’t truly harmed. Her heart sank. This thing was stronger than she had imagined.

As the first ghostly clone lunged, Sang Mu dodged sideways. Her sword sliced through the black mist, provoking a shrill scream. The second clone attacked from behind—she couldn’t dodge in time. Sharp claws raked her shoulder, sending a flash of searing pain through her body.

The scent of blood seemed to excite the spirit. Its three clones merged into one again, its form now twice the size. Sang Mu stumbled back, bumping into the wall. She had underestimated it. This wasn’t a B-rank spirit—this was at least A-rank, maybe even…

“A vengeful ghost!” she gasped.

The ghost lunged, its gaping maw wide open. Sang Mu quickly pulled out a bagua mirror, aiming it at the spirit. The mirror’s golden light made the ghost scream and retreat, but it soon came back. Cracks appeared on the surface of the mirror.

Sweat beaded on Sang Mu’s forehead. Her tools were more than enough for ordinary spirits—but they weren’t enough for a ghost of this magnitude. She needed stronger talismans, or—

The spirit charged again—this time, it broke right through the mirror’s defense. A freezing hand clamped around her neck, lifting her off the ground. The pain of asphyxiation darkened her vision, and the coin sword slipped from her hand.

“Die… all of you… die…” the ghost’s voice echoed beside her ear.

Just as Sang Mu’s consciousness began to fade, a silver flash shot through the air from the doorway, hitting the ghost squarely in the head. It let out a blood-curdling scream and released her. She collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath, and looked toward the entrance—where a tall figure now stood.

“Begone!” the newcomer shouted, tossing a string of glowing blue prayer beads. The beads unfurled mid-air, forming a radiant halo that trapped the ghost within.

The malevolent spirit struggled, its body like swirling black mist slamming against the halo of light. Each impact caused part of it to evaporate. With one final, furious roar of unwillingness, it dissolved into a wisp of black smoke and slipped into the cracks of the floor.

Sang Mu coughed and stood up, eyes cautiously fixed on the uninvited guest. He was a man in his thirties, dressed in a black trench coat, holding a short sword carved with strange runes.

“Are you alright?” the man asked, putting away his weapon and walking toward her. His voice was deep and commanding, his gaze sharp as an eagle’s.

Sang Mu instinctively took a step back. “Who are you? How did you find this place?”

The man stopped and pulled an ID from his pocket. “Yu Chen, Special Incident Investigator. This house has been on our monitoring list.”

Sang Mu narrowed her eyes and examined the ID—it did have an official stamp, but she had never heard of any “Special Incident Investigators.”

“Sang Mu, freelance exorcist,” she introduced herself briefly, bending down to retrieve her coin sword. “Thanks for the help, but I had it under control.”

Yu Chen raised an eyebrow. “Almost getting strangled by a vengeful spirit is your idea of ‘under control’?”

Sang Mu’s cheeks flushed. “I underestimated its level. Usually, hauntings in residential areas don’t involve spirits this strong.”

“That wasn’t an ordinary spirit.” Yu Chen glanced around grimly. “It’s been enhanced by some kind of force. Did you notice its eyes? Regular spirits have red or white ones—this one’s were green.”

Sang Mu thought back. That was true. She was just about to ask more when a dull thud echoed from upstairs.

The two exchanged a glance and rushed toward the stairs. The second-floor hallway was even darker and damper than the first, with wallpaper peeling away in large patches to reveal moldy wooden boards underneath. Sang Mu’s compass spun wildly again, its needle pointing to a door at the end of the hall.