Chapter 321

Chapter 321

◎None of My Business◎

Midway through the exorcism ritual, a sudden gust of wind swept through the house. Wan Feng's parents felt both nervous and fearful, yet also a flicker of hope—this was proof that the shaman had genuine power, and the ritual was working. As long as he was truly capable, solving the problem was inevitable.

The moment the ghostly wind rose, everyone could hear the sound of running footsteps coming from upstairs. Wan Feng immediately turned to Ji Nanxing. "That's the sound! I've heard it almost every day before."

The so-called master's assistant swallowed nervously and looked at Wan Feng’s parents. "Is there someone else in your house?"

Wan Feng's parents quickly shook their heads. "No, not even a cleaning maid."

Hiring a shaman for an exorcism wasn’t something worth publicizing. Despite living in a townhouse complex where privacy seemed paramount, gossip spread like a small-town rumor mill—what happened in the morning would be known throughout the entire neighborhood by the afternoon.

They didn’t want to become the subject of dinnertime gossip, so before the fraud arrived, they had thoroughly checked the house inside and out to ensure no one was present before starting the ritual.

No sooner had Wan Feng's parents spoken than the sound of running grew louder, moving from above their heads all the way to the staircase. Alongside the distinct footsteps, there were faint mirthless giggles, like those of a child.

In that instant, goosebumps prickled the skin of everyone in the room. How could there be a child in their house?

Wan Feng's face turned deathly pale as he instinctively called out, "Master!"

He was calling for Ji Nanxing, but the fraud thought Wan Feng was addressing him. His head felt like it was about to explode. He had been in this line of work for years and had encountered a few unexplainable incidents, but they were always minor—easily resolved with a quick offering of prayers at a temple. This was the first time he had ever come face-to-face with a full-blown haunting.

His assistant, who had worked with him for years, knew exactly how skilled (or unskilled) his boss was. Though aware of his lack of real ability, the assistant instinctively moved closer in fear. "What now?! Oh god, what now?"

The fraud hastily pulled out a stack of paper talismans from his pocket, gripping them tightly as he whispered, "It's fine. We've already taken the advance payment. If things go south, we'll just run. At the very least, these talismans are the real deal—they should buy us some time."

After years in this business, even the most skeptical would start to believe in the supernatural. So, while he had once relied entirely on fakes, he had eventually found a way to acquire real talismans—just in case. Better safe than sorry.

And now, that "just in case" had arrived. He wasn’t sure if he’d make it out alive today.

Ji Nanxing glanced at the ashen-faced Wan Feng and He Ziyan and reassured them, "Don’t be afraid. As long as you stay seated on the sofa, nothing will happen to you."

He Ziyan was on the verge of tears. The doors and windows were closed, yet the spectral draft persisted, and the footsteps and laughter grew louder, pushing their frayed nerves to the limit. She felt as if a pair of hands might reach out from behind her at any second. Beside her, she was gripping Wan Feng’s hand so tightly she was cutting off his circulation.

Just then, a child's voice echoed from above. "Are you looking for me?"

Everyone looked up to see a corpse-pale child with a sickly greenish hue perched on the second floor, peering down at them.

Wan Feng's mother sucked in a sharp breath, nearly fainting from fright.

His father was so terrified he forgot to breathe, his face drained of color.

The child grinned before vanishing right before their eyes. The next second, the fraud felt a tug on his clothes. He recoiled in panic—the little ghost had appeared at his feet, its cold, lifeless face staring up at him. "Are you here to catch me?"

The fraud stumbled back in terror. "A ghost! A ghost!!!"

His scream snapped the others out of their frozen horror, and they all bolted for the door.

A ghostly wind slammed all the doors and windows shut with a loud *bang*—clearly, escape wasn’t an option.

Wan Feng's parents clutched desperately at the fraud. "Master, do something! Master!"

The fraud dropped to his knees before the ghost. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn’t mean any offense! I just wanted to make some money! If you’ve got a grievance, settle it; if you’ve got a score, settle it—whoever wronged you, take it up with them—don’t come after me! I didn’t hurt you!"

His assistant also knelt beside him, clutching a talisman in one hand and his boss’s clothes in the other, eyes clenched shut, too terrified to look.

Seeing how badly he’d scared them, the little ghost giggled and ran off, zipping around the room before stopping in front of the Wan couple: "Uncle and Auntie, have you paid back the money you owe?"

The couple was so terrified their limbs stiffened, tongue-tied with fear, unable to utter a word. Seeing them about to pass out, the little ghost, afraid of causing real harm, took off again with a skittering sound.

Xiao Ye turned to Ji Nanxing: "Is this the little ghost who was just talking to you?"

Ji Nanxing nodded. Xiao Ye asked, "Could he have been killed by this family?"

Wan Feng, who had just begun to calm down from his terror, was stunned again: "What? Killed by our family? What do you mean? Did our family kill this ghost?"

Ji Nanxing: "I didn’t say you killed him."

Without further explanation, Ji Nanxing lightly shook the golden bell on his wrist. The little ghost, still running wildly around the room, let out a surprised "Ah!" before vanishing with a whoosh.

The unnatural wind in the room ceased. Apart from the scam artist still groveling on the floor for mercy, the entire house fell silent.

Ji Nanxing stood up from the sofa and walked to the corner the little ghost had pointed at earlier. He called out to Wan Feng: "Come here, move these things aside."

Wan Feng hurriedly obeyed, shifting cabinets and potted plants out of the way.

Ji Nanxing swept out a pile of blackened rice from the corners.

Wan Feng frowned: "What is this?"

Ji Nanxing: "As I told you before, this is corpse-tainted rice, which makes you bear the dead’s resentment. Someone planted this in your home to make you bear the dead’s resentment."

He Ziyan: "If contaminated, would it be like Wan Feng—haunted by ghosts and slowly dying? Now that we’ve found this, can we fix it?"

Ji Nanxing: "If the resentment isn’t resolved, death is inevitable. The resentment emits a scent—reeks of death to the living, but smells fragrant to hungry ghosts. Many hungry ghosts, starved from lack of offerings, would act like a starving man smelling food after ten years."

He glanced at the couple, who were slowly regaining their composure: "If the hungry ghosts have some restraint, they might just follow the scent, leading to nothing worse than Yin energy clinging to the person. Those afflicted by Yin energy either die of illness or accidents—still counts as a natural death. But if the ghosts lack restraint and lose control, they’ll try to feed."

Wan Feng: "Feed on what?"

Ji Nanxing: "The scent is coming from you. What do you think they’d want to feed on?"

Wan Feng paled.

His parents, supporting each other, approached: "What’s going on? Who are you people?"

Wan Feng said, "They’re the experts I brought in. When I stayed at home, strange things happened, so I moved to a hotel. But the situation didn’t improve, so I sought their help."

Looking at the calm young men and then at the other two—pale-faced and drenched in cold sweat—it was clear who had real skill.

The Wan couple, suddenly forgetting their earlier impatience and disdain, now latched onto Ji Nanxing desperately, even reaching out to grab him.

Xiao Ye blocked them: "What are you doing?!"

Wan Feng’s father said urgently, "You’re paid to handle problems. Since my son hired you, you must fix this for us. Money isn’t an issue—just tell us what it costs!"

Ji Nanxing chuckled: "Plenty of money, but you won’t pay debts? The solution is simple: pay back whoever you owe, and this will end. The person who buried the corpse-tainted rice and inflicted the resentment likely just wants their money. If you don’t pay, you’ll die."

Wan Feng looked at his parents, then at Ji Nanxing: "So our family’s trouble is just because my parents owe someone money?"

Ji Nanxing nodded: "Their finances are a mess, but otherwise, there are no issues—no emotional disputes, no blood on their hands. Unpaid debts inviting disaster is the most plausible explanation. As for you, you’re affected because you’ve been spending dirty money freely. While creditors struggle, you indulge without restraint—staying in luxury hotels indefinitely. Even if the debt isn’t yours, spending dirty money makes you a target for resentment."

He then added, "My fee is 200,000. Payment is due within three days."

Wan Feng’s mother protested: "You want payment before fixing this?!"

Ji Nanxing chuckled: "I've helped you identify the source of the problem and directly pointed out how to fix it. If you insist on holding onto your money, then you can only wait to die. If you want to renege on payment, that's also possible—though I must admire your courage for daring to cheat a Taoist master."

After speaking, Ji Nanxing signaled Xiao Ye to leave. He Ziyan pursed her lips and said to Wan Feng, "I'll send you the account details. I'm leaving now."

Wan Feng's parents were unwilling to let them go. They weren’t sure if the house was really cleansed or if that little ghost would reappear.

As they tried to chase after them, Wan Feng stopped them: "Who exactly did you owe money to, and how much?"

Wan Feng's father tried to shove him aside: "You know nothing about business matters."

Seeing they had no intention of repaying the debt, Wan Feng let out a bitter laugh: "This is life or death! Do you really want to die holding onto that money? Our lives are at stake, and you still refuse to let go!"

The argument inside the house was lost on the group, who had already walked out of the villa's gate. Only after some distance did He Ziyan finally speak up: "Academic god, if they don't repay the money, will they really die?"

Ji Nanxing nodded bluntly: "Yes. Mystic arts aren’t a joke. Since someone cast a curse, it's a life-or-death situation—either repay the money or lose their lives. The money they owe might very well be someone else’s life savings. The other party didn’t go for the kill immediately; they gave them a chance. Now that I've uncovered the root of the problem, all they need to do is follow instructions if they want to live. If they can't part with their money, then they’ll have only themselves to blame."

He Ziyan: "But Wan Feng is innocent. He isn’t the one who owes the money."

Ji Nanxing glanced back at the row of villas obscured by greenery: "But he’s the one living off that money—living in houses most people could never afford, receiving education abroad. Every aspect of his lifestyle is funded by others' hard-earned money. He may not have known, but he isn’t innocent."

He Ziyan thought about it and realized he was right. If Wan Feng's parents had deliberately refused to repay the debt, then even if Wan Feng was unaware, he had still benefited from it—making him far from innocent.

Xiao Ye let out a soft scoff after checking the information a friend had helped him dig up: "No shocker—they’re deadbeats."

He Ziyan: "Deadbeats?"

Xiao Ye: "Wan Feng’s parents owe over 20 million in unpaid construction fees. They even filed for bankruptcy to avoid repayment and are now on the list of debtors blacklisted for non-payment—what people call deadbeats. Twenty million—paying that back would wipe them out. No wonder they’re reluctant."

Ji Nanxing: "If they can’t part with the money, then they’ll have to part with their lives."

The other party may have resorted to mystic arts, but sometimes extraordinary measures are the only way to reclaim what’s owed. Repaying debts is a matter of principle, and he wasn’t about to meddle in someone else’s rightful dues.

The debt issue wasn’t his concern—but the little ghost now trapped in his golden bell was another matter entirely.