He suddenly felt exhausted, his waist unable to exert strength, and there was a dull ache.

When he touched it—wasn't this just soreness?

Tsk, it really felt something like that...

Li Heng slowly crawled up on the bed, hissing a few breaths.

The oil lamp needed oil. He lived alone in the house and rarely lit the lamps. The pitch-black surroundings swallowed all light, and the entire house, square with sturdy walls, seemed oppressive.

Like a coffin.

The very coffin he originally intended to buy for his old father.

Li Heng's forehead broke out in cold sweat. He exhaled deeply several times and wiped his brow, preparing to lie back down again.

But as he turned his head, something caught the edge of his vision…

The door once shut tight was now slightly ajar, leaving a narrow sliver, and outside, something seemed to shift in the shadows.

Li Heng instantly tensed up, cold sweat trickling down his back.

He suddenly thought of the story told while drinking, shivering all over.

"The lamp—the lamp… Don't let me die of fright like Old Sun did, who got scared to death because he didn't have a lamp."

Li Heng jumped off the bed, rummaged through the room, until at last he found an oil lamp. Lighting the flame, the flickering light trembled, faint and unsettling.

Slowly, he pushed the door open, cautiously peering outside.

There was nothing out of the ordinary.

Li Heng's heart remained tight as he clutched the oil lamp, then closed the bedroom door firmly.

With the click of the lock echoing, he wandered through the house, the new residence he hadn't lived in for long, holding up the lamp.

A faint breeze brushed past the beams and pillars, stirring the sparse emptiness of the house bereft of furniture, leaving an air of desolation.

His grip tightened around the lamp, his hand pressed against each doorway as he inspected room after room thoroughly, walking in circles.

Yet, nothing happened.

The house was devoid of anyone but him.

Li Heng breathed a sigh of relief. Even the outhouse he checked multiple times; the beams there held nothing hanging down from them.

He wiped the sweat on his brow and muttered to himself:

"Scaring myself, that's all."

Every corner was empty—Li Heng held his oil lamp and let out a breath of relief, half-laughing and cursing those brothers who told ghost stories.

With big strides, he walked back into the bedroom.

Suddenly,

he halted, an alarming realization struck him—hadn't he shut the bedroom door when he left?!

Whoosh...

A faint breeze passed, carrying a chill. Li Heng hesitated as he turned back, his mind blanking instantly.

At the doorway behind him stood a figure, hair disheveled!

"A ghost!"

Li Heng screamed sharply, the oil lamp in his hand dropping to the ground.

The figure moved leisurely toward him as Li Heng fell to the floor, pale-faced, scrambling backward toward the corner.

But then, the "ghost" walked past him, chuckling softly:

"You're the ghost."

Li Heng froze where he was, dumbfounded.

The person raised their fingers to form a spell and recited slowly:

"The great calamity grants mercy, the boundless nectar gate, ten directions transform and guide, salvation for all beings."

In an instant, countless memories surged through Li Heng's mind like shattered fragments of scenes.

He recalled drinking with a few brothers and returning to the house.

Then... flashes, faint streaks of light.

Behind the door, it seemed like something was hidden. When he pulled it open, there was a gleaming dagger.

With a sharp sound,

flesh split apart, stabbing into his waist and abdomen—his waist hurt intensely!

Li Heng fell backward, collapsing into a pool of blood, breaths growing shallower. As he raised his head, he could see the killer stepping over him, silently wiping the dagger clean of blood.

Before closing his eyes, he heard a voice say:

"This house belongs to Lifeng Pavilion now."

...…

Li Heng's eyes flew open.

Lowering his gaze, he discovered his form shimmering and indistinct.

The so-called oil lamp wasn't burning with a red flame, but a spectral blue ghost fire.

Li Heng's eyes widened slowly, his voice rough as he croaked: "I… I'm already dead?!"

Chen Yi sighed and smiled faintly at the ghost unaware of its own demise:

"Do you know how you died?"

Li Heng's eyes widened further before spitting out fiercely: "I know, I know! The one who killed me—he said he was with Lifeng Pavilion, and he had a scar on his face!"

Chen Yi narrowed his eyes upon hearing this,

he had noticed the scar on the face of the homeowner of this house.

...............…

Lu Ying was a little bewildered.

Checking the almanac, she saw that tomorrow night marked an auspicious time. She and a few senior and junior sisters were supposed to conduct rituals.

However, the homeowner Qin Peng told them it had all been settled.

"All settled?"

Lu Ying and the group of Taoists from Yin Sword Mountain looked surprised.

Qin Peng cupped his hands and said: "The house is now empty, no need for the Daoists to go through the trouble of performing the rituals. But I wouldn't want you to make the trip in vain. Tonight at Ya Yue Building, I'll host a banquet and invite you all."

It was common practice for those commissioning supernatural eliminations to express their gratitude with a feast, but the Taoists of Yin Sword Mountain usually declined these gestures. For one, Taoists followed specific fasting practices according to the day's schedule; and second, Taoists focused on cultivating spiritually, unburdened by mundane entanglements. Socializing often led to deeper entanglements.

"Should we decline?"

A junior sister asked from behind.

Lu Ying furrowed her brows, not replying immediately, and instead looked to Qin Peng: "May I ask, Mr. Qin, who exactly did you commission to handle the supernatural affairs?"

Qin Peng didn't shy away, replying: "This person wished to remain unnamed. All I know is they are called Hou Kang, and yes, this Daoist will also be attending the banquet."

Hou Kang?

What a strange Daoist title. The female Taoists exchanged puzzled glances, each somewhat intrigued.

Typically, Taoist titles derive from the Daoist scriptures and often include elements like Xuan (Mystery), Yang (Light), Chun (Pure), Zhen (True), or Sheng (Life). A title like Hou Kang seemed to have no clear provenance.

The attention of the Taoists turned collectively. One of them spoke out:

"Should we go and take a look?"

A Taoist with the title Zi Zhen agreed: "Let's go take a look. To banish evil without waiting for an auspicious time suggests their Taoist Skill must be profound."

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