“Xiao Fan, girl, you’ve become prettier since the last time I saw you a few months ago,” Wu Zhichong said as he took off his sunglasses, smiling warmly. Then his eyes shifted to me and Brother Xiang, raising an eyebrow. “These two guys are your classmates? Hmm, not much to look at, and definitely not as handsome as me.”

“Mm,” Han Sifan nodded but completely ignored his self-indulgent remark. “We ran into some trouble in Chongqing this time.” 

Wu Zhichong shrugged, brushing it off. “Alright, this isn’t the place to chat. Get in the car; let’s talk at my office.” With that, he turned and got into his Ferrari. The three of us followed suit, squeezing in.

Despite the fancy car, Wu Zhichong didn’t drive fast. On the way, Han Sifan recounted everything that had happened with the female ghost in Chongqing. After listening, Wu Zhichong furrowed his brow. “Sounds like you accidentally crossed paths with a cult. But after the Tianli Sect dissolved, there aren’t many cults left in China that can control vengeful spirits.”

“Tianli Sect?” I asked curiously.

“Just a cult from five years ago,” Wu Zhichong replied, shaking his head. He didn’t elaborate further. After clarifying the main points of our predicament, he fell silent and focused on driving.

His company, Lingling Tang, was located on a commercial street behind Chengdu First High School, in a large building. From afar, we could see a big signboard that read: Lingling Tang – Professional Ghost Hunting, Exorcism, weddings and funerals. 

Seeing the bold advertising, Brother Xiang asked, “Uncle Cong, aren’t you afraid the police will arrest you for promoting superstition so openly?”

After all, we’d graduated from the police academy, and the very first lesson taught us about national policies, one of which strictly prohibited superstitious practices.

“The police?” Wu Zhichong sneered. “The Chengdu police chief just came here for tea a few days ago.” 

He pulled up the car in front of the building, got out, and led us upstairs to the second floor.

The second floor was entirely occupied by Lingling Tang. It was massive, easily over a thousand square meters, divided into ten transparent glass rooms, each about fifty square meters in size. Inside were desks and chairs where people of varying ages dressed as Taoist priests were offering fortune-telling and other services. Price tags were displayed prominently outside each room. 

A seemingly seventy-something old man had a starting price of 1,000 dollars for fortune-telling and 18,000 dollars for altar rituals. Younger practitioners were priced at 500 dollars and up. 

I couldn’t help but gasp at the exorbitant fees—this was daylight robbery! Yet despite the high prices, there were plenty of customers. Besides the glass rooms, there was a massive 500-square-meter recreational area further back, complete with pool tables, ping-pong tables, treadmills, and even a café. It served as a waiting area for clients seeking spiritual services. Dozens of people, many dressed in suits and ties—clearly corporate executives—were waiting their turn.

“So this is what a fortune-telling business can look like?” Brother Xiang exclaimed in amazement.

Wu Zhichong glanced back and chuckled, “Of course! Don’t underestimate us. We employ over fifty people here, working in shifts every five days. Everyone gets a base salary of 10,000 dollars plus commissions. Most of the street fortune-tellers in Chengdu now work for me. Rich folks love being superstitious. The wealthier they are, the more paranoid they get. Half a month without a fortune reading, and they get restless. Business is booming.”

Han Sifan, having visited before, didn’t seem fazed, but Brother Xiang and I were awestruck. This Uncle Cong wasn’t just savvy; he was practically a genius. But society isn’t simple. Not everyone can run a business like this. Without someone powerful backing him, a place like this would be shut down the very next day. As someone aspiring to become a “model corrupt official,” I understood that all too well.

Wu Zhichong led us into his office, which was about seventy square meters. It was fairly simple—a standard desk, a bookshelf stocked with books on Feng Shui, and a sofa. He gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat. I’ll make some tea.”

“Enough with the tea. Just tell us how to deal with that vengeful spirit,” Han Sifan cut in impatiently.

Wu Zhichong smirked, “Why the rush? It’s just a ghost. Nothing to fuss about. Have some tea first.” He handed us three cups of tea. Brother Xiang and I politely took ours, and though Han Sifan seemed displeased, she still accepted hers.

Wu Zhichong suddenly grew serious. “Let me be upfront: I’m not going to help you. I’ll teach you how to deal with the ghost, but you’ll have to handle it yourselves.”

“With the three of you combined, it’s not impossible to take down that ghost. Your main problem is a lack of experience. Brother Xiang, right? You’re Ah Jiu’s apprentice, trained in Feng Shui since childhood. Not bad, though not amazing either. You panicked when you got caught in the illusion, thinking you couldn’t handle it. But there’s no need to be scared. If you’d led them through the Qian position, you could’ve escaped. 

“As for Xiao Fan, use your silver needles to pierce her ghost gate. That’ll weaken her significantly. Then finish her off with the Five Thunder Heaven Shaking Talisman. Boom. Problem solved.” Wu Zhichong sipped his tea as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

I frowned. “What about me? And aren’t you oversimplifying this? That ghost was insanely powerful. I still remember the sheer helplessness I felt facing her.”

“You? What can you do? Stick close to them and act as backup. Oh, by the way, you could learn the Rebirth Mantra. The Five Thunders Strike Talisman might not be strong enough to completely destroy that ghost. And unless it’s absolutely necessary, don’t kill her. She was probably a victim of the cult too. Sending her off with a proper ritual would be a virtuous act.”

“You’re really underestimating me,” I grumbled, feeling slighted by the minor role assigned to me.

Wu Zhichong suddenly grew solemn. “You’re mistaken. Your task isn’t the easiest. In fact, it’s the most painful and challenging.”

“Exorcising a vengeful spirit isn’t as simple as chanting a few scriptures. That ghost’s resentment won’t dissipate unless her grievances are resolved. During the ritual, her pain and hatred will flood your mind. If you can maintain control and communicate with her to persuade her to reincarnate, you’ll succeed. Fail, and you’ll die.”

Hearing this, I shuddered, cold sweat running down my back. “On second thought, I’ll just play the supporting role. I don’t mind being a burden.”

Wu Zhichong grinned mischievously. “Too late. Tonight, I’ll set up the altar and summon that ghost for you to exorcise.”