Syrie flared up: "You think I wanted to?! It's his old man who wouldn't take him to a hospital—instead he's scouring the earth for masters!"

  "I was already in a foul mood, and then more than half these masters turn out to be the same ones who bullied me back then—from your expression, you've probably heard about that part too?"

  Dax's expression turned subtle. He didn't respond.

  Syrie ground her teeth, eyes reddening: "Everyone's laughing at me—the great fox immortal's senior disciple, beaten to a crisp by a bunch of mortal cultivators, even had a tail chopped off? That's all bullshit! I just had bad luck and got caught in a lightning tribulation! And they have the nerve to brag about it everywhere… boo hoo hoo, hanging my tail up like a trophy… every Yao in the whole realm recognizes my gorgeous tail…"

  The more she spoke, the more aggrieved she became, voice cracking: "Made my shameful past even worse. If I don't settle this, how can I ever go back to my fox den? I can't even face my own father anymore!"

  She took a deep breath, steadied her emotions, and her tone turned vicious: "So I just… called back Lei's scattered soul myself and took him to that… fire scene from over twenty years ago…"

  Dax's throat tightened, like swallowing hot ash: "Over twenty years ago? You mean… that restaurant?"

  Syrie narrowed her eyes, fingers drumming on the table with a dull sound, like knocking on a coffin lid: "The primary fault was always Lei's lack of class—standing outside that restaurant smoking, casually flicking an unextinguished cigarette butt. The wind blew it into the maintenance shaft, right onto some stacked cardboard boxes. The bastard saw it happen, but he was afraid of taking responsibility. Said nothing, ran away first thing, didn't even call the fire department."

  "The flames quickly spread to the second floor. Upstairs, a family of twenty-five was celebrating the old man's seventieth birthday—because of this senseless disaster, twenty-two died."

  Dax let out a long sigh, gaze drifting into the distance: "Ah, I know about this. I rushed to the scene too, watched the Underworld people arrive. Soul reapers in black robes stepping over scorched earth, twenty-two wronged spirits burned down to skeletons, kneeling in formation on the ruins, kowtowing until sparks flew, begging for justice. The spirits refused to leave, blocked the door, nearly snapped the Reapers' iron chains. But the Reapers had quotas to meet. In the end they had no choice—threatened to process them for obstructing official duties. I couldn't stand watching, so I stepped up and vouched for them: 'Let them stay. Wait until the mortal courts rule, then they can go.'"

  Ling tilted her head: "So it looks like they never saw Lei brought to justice?"

  Syrie gave a cold laugh, like tearing open an old wound: "Justice? Hah, all thanks to the high-born lady he latched onto behind my back. Back then I was still infatuated with him. When I heard about this, I panicked—you know for us, merit and karma are what's real, everything else is meaningless. I forced him to confess, give away money, go to prison. I even burned through piles of my own Merit to compensate the victims."

  "And then what? He turns around and marries this Mrs. Lei—the Wei family's precious daughter. The month of the wedding, Teon was born!" She slammed the table, the teacup jumping three inches. "Ever heard of a fox Yao getting cheated on? And not noticing for at least nine goddamn months!"

  She took a ragged breath, voice dropping lower, but more chilling: "Anyway, Mrs. Lei easily handled it. All responsibility went to the restaurant owner. Lei, the one who started it all, came out squeaky clean. Forget compensation—he never even lit a single candle or burned a piece of joss paper at their graves! Tell me, could those wronged souls who'd waited over twenty years let him go?"

  Dax drew a sharp breath: "You're saying… the spirits I vouched for have become soul-eating vengeful ghosts?!"

  But Syrie smiled, reaching over to pat his shoulder: "Relax. I planned everything ahead—specifically used the remnant flames from that fire to create an illusion that drove them into a frenzy. When they gnawed on Lei's soul, it was instinct, not premeditated revenge."

  "I'd already made arrangements for them beforehand. That scene just now? That was their crossing-over ceremony. The justice the mortal world couldn't give them, I repaid with Yao fire."

  "Sigh… centuries of savings, all spent on Lei in just these ten, twenty years—handsome men really do burn through Merit."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Wind rose outside the window, blowing fallen leaves like scattered joss paper, like lost souls searching for graves they couldn't find.

  Ling suddenly cut in from the side: "No wonder you don't have any great Yao aura. Did you pawn your Yao core?"

  Hit where it hurt, the fox's face flushed red then white, unable to speak.

  Dax grew very alert: "Oh, so you really are completely broke? What are we going to do? With Lei's remaining soul so diminished, we'll need to buy materials on the black market to sustain it. When he finally dies, we'll need to fill in those decades of memories too. And that's not even the most urgent thing—the priority is erasing those holographic Spirit-Net surveillance records, which means greasing several more palms…"

  The fox stammered: "I… I gave the Underworld judges a huge sum. They said I didn't need to worry about anything…"

  "I suggest you call your father and think this through properly."

  Dax was actually feeling some regret now. Ever since this evil ghost arrived, he'd felt like he was being tempted by a demon at every turn, always following her onto paths of no return. Her every enticement was like a siren's song—impossible to refuse.

  But—so what if there was no turning back. He owed what he owed. Maybe he'd wanted to walk this path all along.

  The fox stuttered: "Actually… it's not that I don't want to. It's… I can't reach my father anymore…"

  Ling frowned: "What do you mean you can't reach him?"

  "It's just… maybe a few years ago, my dad suddenly started acting strange. Wouldn't reply to messages, wouldn't even turn on spirit-communication. I had no idea where he was. Then I suddenly saw him on TV—turns out he debuted as a celebrity. I even went to his concert, gritted my teeth and bought front-row VIP. But he wouldn't even look at me. He shook my hand, but completely ignored my telepathic messages, like he couldn't hear them at all."

  "These past years… I really have disappointed my father too much. It makes sense that he doesn't want anything to do with me…"

  Ling's heart lurched.

  That fox, Soran, was fiercely protective. There's no way he'd disappear over something this trivial. Wouldn't look at her? No response to a handshake?

  A word surfaced in Ling's mind:

  Or worse…

  The fox grew sadder the more she thought about it, sobbing: "I think… my dad really has given up on me… waaahhhh…"

  Ling lowered her head in silence. Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong. She felt thoughts swimming just out of reach, but the moment she touched them, they slipped away like eels.

  "The last time you contacted your father, what did he say?"

  The fox thought about it: "Same as always. Told me to cultivate properly, stop chasing men. I'm just hopeless, I can't help myself…"

  "…"

  "Wait, no, that's what my dad nags about every day. But the last time… he actually said something about cultivating properly and apologizing on his behalf to some bar owner. Really random."

  Ling's heart jumped: "What bar owner? Where? What's the name?"

  The fox blinked her clear, stupid eyes: "No idea. Right then I spotted a hot guy—super hot—so I hung up on him. Don't know anything after that."

  "…"

  Dax: If I were your father, I'd disown you too.

  After the three "geniuses" finished conferring, it was deep into the night.

  Downstairs was empty—clearly Teon had cleaned up the aftermath. Only Dante was still waiting anxiously. Seeing the two come down, he hurriedly signaled his driver to bring the car around.

  Dax was dying for a smoke. He dragged Dante outside for a cigarette while Ling stood alone clutching a bundled jacket, staring at the floor, lost in thought.

  Teon approached with a dark expression, his words pointed: "My mother has little experience with worldly affairs, so sometimes she's too trusting of people. However, I am now fully in charge of this family's matters. If you have any ideas, it would be better to communicate with me first. Otherwise, you'd just be wasting your time."

  Ling looked up, studying that cloud of purple qi around him—the one that had been contaminated earlier.

  Such a plump fish. Need to add more seasoning. No matter how hard things get, you don't turn away business that walks through the door.

  She smiled slightly and shook the suit jacket. A gray shadow tumbled out yet again—she'd been tossed around so many times she was utterly exhausted.

  But catching Teon's scent, the female ghost struggled to rise once more, slowly crawling to her son's feet. Perhaps this was the only shred of goodness and care she had left in the mortal world.

  Though the ghost was calmed by her son's presence, that obsession still clung like damp mold—get too close to the living, and yin energy would spread.

  Teon suddenly shivered, instinctively pulling his coat tighter.

  Ling fished a delicate little bottle from her Pouch—freshly lifted from some master's belt. Not an artifact, but she liked it.

  She offered it to Teon: "If you get headaches, feel irritable, or can't sleep these next few days, give it a sniff. Or put it in your bath. It'll help."

  "…"

  Teon looked at the bottle with its faint powdery fragrance, brow furrowed tight. He made no move to take it.

  Sneering internally: Put away your clumsy tricks. You think everyone's as easy to hook as that Li guy?

  Ling wasn't bothered. She simply crooked her index finger, pulled open the pocket on Teon's shirt, and slipped the bottle inside. She gave his solid chest a pat and smiled:

  "Don't worry, this one's free. If you like it, we'll discuss prices next time."

  He wanted to dodge, to refuse, but for some reason his reactions were several beats slower than usual.

  The bottle felt warm against his chest, and even tonight's inexplicable chill seemed to fade somewhat… He found himself inexplicably allowing Ling's series of annoying, uncomfortable actions.

  Watching him accept it, Ling's smile deepened.

  A mature brewer learns to cultivate her own clientele—that was the first lesson she'd learned from the Court.