“Huh?”

  The man’s expression turned icy. He tried to brush John’s hand away as if he were nothing—but no matter how hard he strained, he couldn’t budge that iron grip an inch.

  “What’s your problem?!”

  He shot a glare at Uncle Liu and the others. “You gonna let this kid hold me here?”

  “Don’t do anything reckless, John.” Uncle Liu panicked, rushing forward to intervene. “You mustn’t offend a master!”

  “Uncle Liu, first tell me—what’s this 300,000 for?”

  “It’s the fee for the purification ritual! Once it’s done, no ghost in the world will dare come near our building.” Uncle Liu hurried to explain, then added quickly, “Don’t you worry, though—we’re splitting the cost between all the families here. You won’t have to pay a cent.”

  Clearly, the Footstep Ghost incident from before had left the entire building traumatized.

  “You hear that, kid?” The man’s voice was cold and sharp. “Smarten up and let go. Some people are way out of your league.”

  At that, John’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths.

  This neighborhood was a typical working-class community. A 300,000 balance alone meant the total cost for this so-called ritual was no small sum.

  “John, don’t be impulsive! This master’s the real deal!” The other neighbors crowded around, begging him to back down, terrified he’d anger the man.

  John sighed, his gaze softening a little for the neighbors who’d always been kind to him.

  “Uncles, aunties, you’ve all been scammed.”

  They’d even gone out of their way to exclude him from the cost—but it was clear how little ordinary people knew about the supernatural these days.

  Especially when it came to ghosts and spirits, it left them wide open to charlatans like this.

  “You little brat—you really wanna die?”

  The man’s patience had run out. He had more marks to fleece, and he didn’t have time for this.

  John’s expression turned frigid in an instant. His right hand shot out, locking around the man’s throat in a vice grip.

  “You’ve got the real deal, huh? Then show me what you’ve got!”

  “You—!”

  The man’s eyes bulged in shock, his face flushing bright red as the air was squeezed from his lungs.

  He’d never imagined the kid had this kind of raw strength…

  “Where’s all that ‘real skill’ now?” John’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Uncle Liu, call the Local Patrol Bureau. Now.”

  In that split second, the man’s face twisted with rage. A yellow talisman appeared in his hand out of nowhere.

  “Huh? A bound spirit?”

  John raised an eyebrow, surprise flashing in his eyes.

  He hadn’t expected this guy to actually be a Spirit Wielder!

  The man’s face was still purple from suffocation, but his eyes blazed with venom.

  The yellow talisman in his hand burst into flames, burning to ash in the blink of an eye and scattering to the ground.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  At the same time, a bone-chilling cold washed over the crowd, sending a shiver down every spine…

  “Now this is getting interesting.”

  John quirked an eyebrow and released his grip on the man’s throat.

  “Cough… cough… You little bastard… you’re dead! The ghost’s out now!” The man gasped for air, his eyes filled with bitter hatred. “This is what you get for crossing me!”

  “You mean this?”

  John raised an eyebrow, his right hand curling into a fist as if he were clutching something invisible in the air.

  A bloodcurdling shriek echoed out, high and thin, laced with pure, unadulterated terror…

  “You—?!”

  The man’s pupils shrank to pinpricks, his face draining of all color in disbelief.

  The kid hadn’t let him go because he was scared—he’d let him go to catch the ghost?!

  “Really? A lousy Yin Ghost is all it takes for you to strut around like a big shot?” John shook his head, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  His supernatural affinity had risen enough that his body wasn’t just a weapon medium now—he could sense the location of low-grade spiritual entities like this one, too.

  The man stared at him in shock. “Who the hell are you?!”

  John ignored him, turning his back to the stunned crowd.

  The Yin Ghost let out one final terrified wail before it was slowly, inexorably pulled into John’s body.

  The sight made the man’s scalp prickle, his mind short-circuiting completely.

  Who the hell was this kid?!

  He might not have known John was eating the ghost, but he knew the Yin Ghost he’d spent months binding and taming had been taken out in seconds.

  “Alright. Got any more ‘real skills’ to show me?” John patted his stomach, his eyes glinting with amusement as he stared at the man.

  “Don’t push me to use my trump card!” The man’s face twisted with malice, hesitation warring in his eyes.

  John raised an eyebrow, tensing slightly in caution. Did he actually have an ace up his sleeve?

  In the next instant, the man dropped to his knees with a loud thud, his voice breaking as he begged.

  “Bro! Big bro! I’m sorry! I’m so damn sorry!”

  “…”

  John’s forehead twitched with a vein of exasperation. This was his trump card?

  The onlooking neighbors were equally stunned, their mouths hanging open.

  The “master” they’d feared was nothing but a coward?

  The man ignored their stares, throwing himself at John’s legs and clinging to them like a lifeline.

  “I’ve got elderly parents to care for and kids to feed! I was just trying to make a living, I swear!”

  “How much have you ‘made a living’ with this trick?”

  “O-over ten million…”

  “Elderly parents and kids? What, do they eat gold for breakfast?!”

  “…”

  The man fell silent, then scrambled to add, “I’ll give every penny back to them! You’re a Spirit Wielder too, I can tell—please, just give me a second chance!”

  “No can do.”

  John shook his head, pulling out his phone and dialing a number.

  “Uncle Brian…”

  It wasn’t long before Local Patrol officers arrived and hauled the man away in cuffs.

  “Coming to scam people right at my doorstep. The guy’s got zero sense of judgment…” John shook his head, watching the man being led off.

  The neighbors turned to him then, their eyes filled with gratitude and awe.

  They’d known the man was a Spirit Wielder—he’d had some real power, after all. But they’d never imagined John was this strong.

  After all, they’d heard he’d taken care of the Footstep Ghost before, but none of them had seen it with their own eyes.

  “John, we can’t thank you enough…” They swarmed around him, pouring out their thanks.

  The patrol officers had explained it all: there was no such thing as a “ritual to prevent vicious ghosts.” Even if there were, this con man would never have been able to perform it.

  “It’s nothing. Just be more careful from now on, everyone.” John waved a hand dismissively. “Times are crazy right now—there’s all kinds of lowlifes out there looking to take advantage.”

  This had happened right at his doorstep, so he’d had to step in.

  If he let a two-bit con man pull one over on his neighbors, where would his pride as a… well, as a uniquely gifted individual go?

  With the farce over, the neighbors dispersed, heading back to their apartments.

  John had lost all desire to go back to sleep, so he headed out to the street and bought a ton of breakfast pastries in bulk.

  He was halfway through gorging himself when his phone rang—Brian.

  “John, you just bagged yourself a merit for this one.”

  “Huh? How so?”

  “We’ve got the full story on him now.” Brian’s voice was crisp over the line. “He’s from the Spirit Wielding Class at Blackwater City No.3 Academy, but he dropped out a few weeks ago because he was too scared to fight ghosts. Then he ran out of money, so he turned to scamming people instead.”

  “And he didn’t just make ten million—try thirty million.”

  “Thirty million?!”

  John blinked, genuinely surprised.

  The guy was in for a world of trouble. The authorities were cracking down hard on this kind of thing these days.

  They could tolerate Spirit Wielders who refused to fight ghosts— but they would never let them prey on ordinary people. That crossed a line.

  John shook his head, snickering. “Thirty million… and he had the gall to say he had a family to feed…”

  “Funny thing is—turns out that part was true. Sort of.” Brian said it deadpan, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  “He’s got a thirty-something young widow to ‘provide for’ on one end, and an eighteen-year-old pretty schoolgirl to ‘take care of’ on the other…”