John sat perfectly still in his seat, his gaze sweeping the theater as he hunted for the wraith’s location.

  “Could it be here just to scare people?”

  A hunch formed in his mind. This was an official assessment site—they’d have checked the place top to bottom beforehand. The only possible explanation? The wraith was part of the test.

  Moments later, the icy chill he’d sensed faded away, meaning the spirit was moving off. John didn’t rush. If it was part of the assessment, it would be back.

  And sure enough, he soon locked onto its path: it was circling the four corners of the theater, moving methodically. No attacks, no harm—just releasing that bone-chilling aura. That confirmed it: the wraith was nothing more than a difficulty boost for the test.

  “I need to cut it off first.”

  John’s eyes fixed on the last seat in his row, on the far right. He slipped out of his chair and walked over quietly.

  “Hey, can I swap seats with you?”

  “The test’s in the middle of happening! Why the hell would—wait. John? Boss John?!”

  The guy had started to snap in irritation, but his tone shifted instantly when he saw who it was. He shot to his feet, eyes wide.

  “You know me?”

  “I was lucky enough to see you lay waste to that wraith and snatch the severed finger right up the other day!”

  Awe shone in the boy’s eyes. This guy didn’t even fear Bound Spirits—someone like him was the last person a regular kid wanted to cross.

  John nodded, sat down in the empty seat, and waited in silence.

  It wasn’t long before the icy chill descended again. The wraith was close.

  John moved slowly, pulling a small pouch of blood from his pocket—rooster blood, fresh and potent. He’d carried it with him every day, just in case he ran into a vengeful spirit. He’d never thought it would come in handy at an assessment.

  Calm as ever, he daubed the blood all over his hands, his eyes never leaving the path the wraith would take. The metallic tang of blood wafted through the air, drawing curious glances from the people nearby—but the theater’s dim lights hid John’s actions completely. Everyone just assumed the blood was another part of the test.

  The wraith was moving along its fixed route, heading from one corner to the next. And to get there, it had to pass through the right-hand aisle—John’s aisle.

  As the wraith glided forward, a blood-soaked hand shot out and clamped down on its neck.

  “Got you.”

  John couldn’t see the spirit with his eyes, but his hands closed around a cold, solid form. He knew instantly he’d caught it.

  And it confirmed what he’d suspected: rooster blood worked on wraiths. No matter how strong he was, he’d never have been able to touch a spirit’s physical form without it.

  The wraith didn’t even have time to react before a flurry of heavy punches rained down on it.

  “What the hell? This wasn’t part of the deal! Fuck!”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The wraith’s consciousness was flooded with utter confusion. It had no idea what was happening.

  John hunched over, pinning the wraith to the floor, his fists flying. A rush of exhilaration lit up his eyes—he couldn’t help the thrill of the fight.

  His physical strength was nothing like it used to be, and the wraith, captured by a human, had its power sealed tight by the talisman binding it. In less than a minute, it was battered and broken, utterly defenseless.

  The ghostly face on John’s chest flickered into view, its mouth opening wide to sink its teeth into the wraith. John chewed with a twisted smile, swallowing the spirit down completely in seconds.

  A single spirit talisman fluttered to the floor where the wraith had been, then vanished into thin air.

  “It was being controlled. No wonder it was even weaker than I thought.”

  John sat up straight, wiping his hands clean with a tissue, a small smile tugging at his lips. He’d come to an assessment and ended up devouring a spirit—what a nice surprise.

  With the wraith gone, the remaining assessees had no more supernatural interference to rattle them, and the pass rate skyrocketed.

  The horror movie ended soon after.

  “Instructor Ron, the list of those who passed.”

  A staff member handed over a sheet of paper, marked with each person’s fear levels and how many times their heart rate monitors had beeped.

  “This many?”

  Ron blinked in surprise. He’d estimated maybe one in ten would pass—with the wraith’s aura stirring up their deepest fears, most should’ve cracked under the pressure. But the list had more than eighty names on it.

  “These applicants have impressive mental fortitude.”

  Ron nodded in approval. “Tell them to wait outside. We’ll announce the results in a minute.”

  The assessees filed out of the theater, their faces a mix of relief, disappointment, and nervous anticipation. Ron stepped inside, ready to retrieve the wraith—he still needed it for the next rounds of the assessment.

  But he circled the entire theater, and there was no sign of the spirit anywhere.

  “Huh?”

  Confusion clouded Ron’s face. He muttered to himself, “Did it escape? That can’t be. The talisman’s binding should’ve held.”

  His mind raced with possibilities—until he stepped near the seat on the far right of the back row. His nose twitched, catching a faint scent in the air.

  “That’s… rooster blood?”

  Ron’s eyes narrowed to slits. A hunch formed in his mind, and it was so ridiculous it bordered on absurd.

  The movie was the exam paper. The wraith was the proctor.

  And after the test was over, the proctor had been beaten to death by a student.

  Who the hell do you even complain to about that?!

  “Who the hell is crazy enough to do this?”

  Now he knew why the pass rate was so high. There was a damn lunatic in the crowd who’d taken out the wraith entirely.

  “I’ll have to ask around.”

  The wraith’s paranormal aura had shorted out the theater’s security cameras temporarily, so Ron couldn’t check the footage. All he could do was memorize the seat and plan to question the applicants later.

  Outside the cinema, the assessment staff were already calling out the names of those who’d made the cut. Cheers erupted from the crowd with every name.

  Eighty-odd names were read aloud—some people cheered, others sighed and left, defeated.

  John, the undisputed star of the assessment, was, of course, on the list. He’d made it into the Intelligence Division.

  “You’re impressive. Only one heart rate spike the entire time.”

  The staff member glanced at John’s results—he’d scored first by a mile.

  What he didn’t know was that the single spike hadn’t been from fear.

  It had been from John’s excitement… while he was beating the ever-living hell out of a wraith.

  “Just par for the course.”

  John smiled, offering no explanation.

  The successful applicants were bussed back to school soon after, while the ones who’d failed were sent packing with their tails between their legs.

  “Take the rest of the day off. The school will assign you new dorm rooms.”

  Ron stepped to the front of the group, his eyes locking onto John immediately. The kid hadn’t let him down—he’d made it in.

  “Intelligence Division training officially starts next Monday. You can pack your things and get settled. If you don’t want to board at the school, you can go home—but no tardiness, ever.”

  Nods rippled through the crowd. Most would definitely be boarding. With Ron here, the school was the safest place in the entire city.

  The group dispersed, chattering excitedly among themselves. They might not have Bound Spirits, but their courage had earned them a place in this new, dangerous world.

  John was in a great mood too, heading straight for the cafeteria.

  “Two grand a month. Never going to go hungry again.”

  John whistled as he walked, the future suddenly looking a whole lot brighter.

  The Intelligence Division’s benefits included a monthly stipend of two thousand yuan. And just one mission would net a hefty bonus of fifty thousand yuan—for regular people in a small city, that was a fortune.