It was a truly bizarre morning.
A deceased, vengeful spirit crouched submissively at the feet of a woman in white. Beside them, a woman with emerald eyes and an open collar watched with arms crossed and cold indifference. Behind them, a woman with wavy brown hair let out a long sigh and shook her head.
The woman in white had one hand clawed around her sword hilt and the other clamped firmly onto the wrist of a much smaller girl. Her beautiful eyes were wide with a chilling, triumphant sneer.
This scene played out right at the entrance of Shumei Media. Passersby stopped to stare; given the high beauty standards of the women involved (though the nearby staff members did their best to lower the average), quite a crowd had gathered.
Having lost her glasses, Qian Luo gave a toothy grin, showing off her pearly whites. “Miss Zhang, this is very dangerous. Look at me, I’m a coward. Don’t scare me. If you scare me, I might accidentally do something drastic…”
Zhang Youwei stepped closer. “Twelve years ago, I wanted to snap that filthy hand of yours. Today, I finally have the chance.”
Damn, this girl remembers everything!
Qian Luo racked her brain. That happened when they were kids—she barely remembered it herself, yet Zhang Youwei had it cataloged in high definition.
Qian Luo scanned her surroundings. No one was coming to save her. Ye looked like she was enjoying the show so much she just needed a bag of sunflower seeds to complete the experience.
“Miss Zhang! Zhang Youwei!” Qian Luo shouted suddenly at the top of her lungs. “Twelve years ago, I didn’t mean to pinch your nip—”
Zhang Youwei hadn’t expected such a low blow. She reflexively let go of the wrist to cover Qian Luo’s mouth, but in that instant, Qian Luo slid away like a greased eel. In a flash, she had leaped several meters back into the safety of the crowd, shouting as she ran: “I really didn’t mean it! I thought you were a boy back then!”
Ye tilted her head, a look of green-eyed satisfaction crossing her face. She turned on her heel and sauntered away.
Qian Zhen looked at the fuming Zhang Youwei and shook her head. “Miss Zhang, I’ve heard the Zhang family is true to its word. You said you’d withdraw; I assume you’ll keep that promise?”
Zhang Youwei reached down and tilted the ghost’s chin up. Knowing few mortals could see the spirit’s true form, she trailed the back of her hand across Zhuo Zitong’s face. “I will withdraw,” she said icily, “but I’ll settle the score with her sooner or later.”
The moment Qian Zhen saw Zhuo Zitong, she recognized her as the actress who had died. The horrific injuries—the marks of a terminal fall—were clear on her spirit. It was obvious this woman had spent her life chasing fame and fortune and was finding no peace in death. Recalling what Qian Luo said about the spirit preying on its own kind only two days after death, Qian Zhen knew this was a truly malevolent soul.
The fact that such a spirit was now serving Zhang Youwei meant Youwei had likely promised her something. The Zhang family clearly held information her own team lacked.
Qian Zhen tried to soothe the girl. Offending the Zhang family served no one. She offered a gentle smile, her light brown eyes radiating a calming warmth. “Miss Zhang, back then, Xiao Luo was just a child—the most mischievous one in our sect. We are truly sorry for her rudeness, but… it was just children playing.”
The fire in Youwei’s eyes flickered. It was hard for anyone to stay furious at someone as soft-spoken as Qian Zhen.
Qian Zhen bowed slightly. “As her Senior Sister, I apologize on her behalf. Please… don’t dwell on the past.” She added with a chuckle, “We used to play like that in our sect all the time. Even I got pinched once or twice.”
The color that had just started to fade from Youwei’s face rushed back in an icy tide. She let out a cold laugh. “Is that so? So she just pinches whoever she sees?”
Qian Zhen’s smile faltered. “She was a kid…”
Zhang Youwei took two deep breaths. Her grip on Zhuo Zitong’s face suddenly tightened into a crush. “Fine. Great. Just wonderful…”
Qian Zhen’s smile vanished as she watched Youwei violently slam the ghost into the pavement. The spiritual illusion of the actress’s face shattered upon impact, revealing her true visage: a face cracked and distorted from the fatal fall. Qian Zhen gasped at the sight.
Zhang Youwei looked up with a mocking glint. “Miss Qian, doesn’t your sect preach ‘mercy wherever possible’?”
“Indeed…” Qian Zhen said hesitantly.
Zhang Youwei lifted her chin arrogantly. “Then let me be clear: the Zhang family rule is ‘better to kill ten thousand by mistake than let one go.’ An eye for an eye! As for her—whatever her name is—she’d better stay out of my sight!”
She grabbed the ghost by the collar and turned to leave, tossing back one last bitter remark: “And don’t let me see that face of hers again!”
The weight of those words made the ghost shrink into herself, trembling violently. Qian Zhen frowned. The Zhang family’s methods were too harsh. While ghost-tamers and spirits had been at odds for centuries, her own sect had rules: they didn’t kill innocent spirits, child spirits, or those tethered by unrequited love. But the Zhangs? They raised them, used them, and killed them for power. It was practically cannibalism.
She didn’t think Youwei was inherently evil—she was clearly talented and didn’t care for money—but that violent streak was a mirror image of her older sister…
Such a path never ends well, Qian Zhen thought.
Suddenly, she looked down at the ghost and froze. In Zhuo Zitong’s mangled face, her eyes were glaring. Though she was trembling, she looked up at Zhang Youwei’s retreating back with a look of pure, concentrated venom and hatred. It was chilling.
“Miss Zhang,” Qian Zhen called out.
Youwei turned back, her expression softening slightly at the sight of the older woman’s concerned face. “What is it?”
Qian Zhen tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Whether you believe it or not, there is a legend in our sect. It’s a taboo: if a ghost is subdued by a tamer, it can turn back into a human if it consumes the tamer’s heart. Don’t look at me like that—normal hearts are useless. It has to be a ghost-tamer, and the higher the rank, the better.”
Zhang Youwei snorted. “Ridiculous!”
Qian Zhen ignored the rudeness. “Miss Zhang, do you remember your sister? The one who disappeared ten years ago?”
Zhang Youwei whipped around, her eyes flashing dangerously. “So it was you people.”
Qian Zhen smiled sadly. “Actually, she came to us before she died. How about this: as an apology for Xiao Luo’s rudeness, if you agree to let this go, I’ll tell you what happened to your sister.”
Zhang Youwei waved the ghost away into the shadows. “You really do look after that junior of yours.”
“She doesn’t give me much of a choice,” Qian Zhen sighed. “Did you kill her?” Youwei asked bluntly.
Qian Zhen nodded. “I killed her with my own hands.”
Zhang Youwei turned deathly pale.
“I had no choice,” Qian Zhen continued. “Her heart had already been ripped out. But because she was born with such immense spiritual power, she couldn’t die. Her resentment was so deep she knew she would become a catastrophic vengeful spirit the moment she passed. It’s a bit of a joke, isn’t it? A lifelong ghost-tamer becoming a ghost herself…”
Zhang Youwei listened in silence. Qian Zhen noted that despite the shock, the girl wasn’t exploding; she was patient. She liked her a bit more for that.
“Zhang Qingyue didn’t want to bring shame to the Zhang family,” Qian Zhen said. “She crawled to our sect with blood pouring from her chest. Master said we couldn’t touch a Zhang and turned her away. I was young and couldn’t stand it, so I ended it for her and sent her to reincarnation. Our legends say if you let your guard down before a spirit and let them steal your heart, you won’t die immediately—you’ll just suffer. It seems the legend was true. But Qingyue wasn’t lucid then. You shouldn’t take everything she said to heart.”
Zhang Youwei took a shaky breath. “What did she say?”
Qian Zhen spoke softly. “She said she was a fool. She fell in love with a ghost, and that ghost ripped her heart out while she was still alive.”
“I won’t be that foolish,” Zhang Youwei said.
“Even so,” Qian Zhen nodded, “stay away from them.”
…
Meanwhile, in the darkest shadows of a nearby building, two figures stood. The white aura around Zhou Xiaoming was fading as her spirit weakened.
Xiaoming touched a claw mark on her shoulder. “Zhuo Zitong is getting stronger.”
“If you want to ‘live’,” the blurry shadow hissed, “you have to take a ghost-tamer’s heart…”
Xiaoming scoffed. “You’re a ghost. You don’t have records or texts. How do you know that’s true?”
The woman stared at Xiaoming for a long time. From the dark mist, a faint, sad outline of her face appeared.
She whispered, “Because… I’ve eaten one.”
…
The mystery of Zhang Youwei’s sister is linked to a dark taboo! Does the shadow following Zhou Xiaoming hold the heart of a Zhang? Should Qian Luo be warned that her life is literally on the menu?