For a long moment, the world stood still. From Han Yu’s elite squad to the students of the Six Academies and the rogue ghost-hunters on the shore—everyone was paralyzed with shock.

  The moon hung high as John breached the surface, single-handedly pinning a spectral head and beating it like a rented mule. Amidst the carnage, he splashed around the Ping’an River with reckless abandon.

  In that moment, he was the absolute center of the universe.

  Yan Qing, the Corpse-Hauler, narrowed his eyes as he recognized the young man he’d crossed paths with earlier.

  "His spiritual energy is perfectly contained," Yan Qing murmured. "Even at this distance, I can't sense a single ripple of power from him. Such terrifying self-control..."

  He had originally dismissed John as a civilian. Now, he felt like a fool. While it was only the head of the entity, the curse it carried should have withered a normal human to bone in seconds.

  Lu Ming was equally shaken. "Director Wei, did the higher-ups really break the bank to hire this many heavy hitters?"

  "Uh... we hired him?"

  Wei Feng sounded unsure. First Yan Qing, now this kid—was Headquarters running a shadow operation behind his back? It seemed unnecessary, but how else could you explain this?

  Only Ron, standing on the shore, felt his eye twitch. This bastard is really soaking up the spotlight, isn't he?

  However, the awe soon gave way to confusion. They noticed that while John was delivering a world-class beatdown, he didn't seem to be... actually finishing the job.

  Wei Feng cleared his throat. "Young hero! Enough playing around! Why don't you bring it ashore?"

  "?"

  In the water, John froze. He’d known they were watching, but "playing around"? He wished.

  Han Yu and the others could erase spiritual entities with ease because they had the "juice." John didn't. He had to settle for the manual labor of punching the ghost into submission, one fist at a time.

  "Maybe he enjoys the process?" Han Yu mused from the boat, her mouth slightly agape. "What a total freak."

  Yan Qing raised his voice. "Son, do you need a hand?" He lifted his rusted corpse-hook, ready to strike.

  "Absolutely not!" John barked back instantly.

  He’d put in too much sweat equity for someone to swoop in and KS (kill-steal) his prize at the last second.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Look, lady, I'm begging you—just die already," John whispered to the head, his voice tinged with desperation. "You're making me look bad in front of everyone."

  "?"

  For the first time, the Ghost Head experienced a surge of genuine human emotion: Indignation. First the mega-syringe, then hours of blunt-force trauma, and now this "logic" from another dimension?

  Are you even human?!

  The moment the head’s mental defense cracked from sheer exasperation, John unleashed a flurry of hooks that finally broke its spirit.

  "Finally!"

  Beneath his shirt, the Ghost Face surfaced, pulsing with a ravenous hunger. Sensing the eyes of the crowd, and not wanting to reveal his "appetite," John took a deep breath and dragged the head underwater.

  A few minutes later, John climbed onto the boat. The head was gone. He had a smirk on his face that he couldn't quite suppress.

  "Classmate," Wei Feng started, "that head...?"

  "Handled," John said, dusting off his hands with a nonchalant shrug. "A tiny little head like that? Hard to cause much of a splash."

  "..."

  The silence was deafening. The "splash" it had caused earlier was practically a tsunami.

  The elite users began scanning John with their spiritual senses, their expressions shifting from suspicion to genuine bewilderment. Why does he still feel like a regular person?

  Han Yu rolled her eyes. "Listen, you creep. If you could finish it that fast, why did you take so long?"

  "Ahem... what do you know?" John bluffed. Facing a group of high-level Ghost-Users, he knew he had to maintain the "expert" persona. He looked off into the distance, his voice turning airy and philosophical.

  "The finest ingredients... often require the simplest cooking methods."

  "??" The crowd stared. What the hell is he talking about?

  "By the way," John’s eyes flickered with a hint of greed. "I only saw the head. Did anyone find the rest of the body?"

  "It’s already been dissipated," Han Yu replied.

  "Oh. Is that so?" John’s heart sank slightly. Still, eating the head was a massive win.

  "Classmate," Wei Feng stepped forward, his curiosity piqued. "I have to ask. What is your Rank?"

  "How vulgar," John sighed, shaking his head. He looked at Wei Feng with a gaze that suggested he’d seen the birth and death of stars. "Ranks are merely shackles that limit one's growth. Do not be so obsessed with labels..."

  He paused, letting the wind catch his hair. "It’s lonely at the top."

  He turned his back to them, staring at the moon in a classic "lonely master" pose.

  "..."

  The group was floored. The sheer audacity—or perhaps the profoundness—of his words left them speechless.

  "My apologies," Wei Feng said, his voice full of regret. "I was out of line. But knowing our province has an expert of your caliber... we can finally start clearing some of those S-Rank lockdown zones."

  "??"

  John’s moon-gazing silhouette stiffened. Wait, they want me to do WHAT?

  Panic surged. He spun around immediately, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "Uh, actually, on second thought... let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

  "Hmm? What do you mean?"

  "Er... I’m actually just a normal guy."

  John gave a dry laugh. He was happy to play the "hidden master" for the clout, but if it meant being sent into a suicide zone to fight an S-Rank Calamity? Hard pass.

  "Huh?"

  Wei Feng and the others blinked, refusing to believe him. "In this day and age, there's no need for such modesty."

  "No, seriously. I'm telling the truth."

  "But you’re immune to the curse..."

  That was the sticking point. No normal human could touch that entity and live.

  "Uh..." John scrambled for an excuse. He couldn't tell them about the syringe, or they’d want to know where the "juice" came from. His eyes darted around. "Actually, it’s because my body is... naturally resistant. I'm a special case."

  "A rare constitution?" Wei Feng studied him. "The 'Aura of the Wicked'? They say the sheer malice of a truly dangerous man can ward off spirits. I suppose that explains it."

  "??"

  John stared. Seriously, old man? You’re just going to leap to that conclusion? A bit judgmental, don't you think?

  I might be a bit of a jerk, but 'Aura of the Wicked' is a bit much.

  "Whatever you say," John muttered. As long as they didn't ship him off to a haunted wasteland, he didn't care if they thought he was the devil himself.

  "I see." Wei Feng’s face fell. He’d hoped he had found a god-tier ally. The Ministry was desperately understaffed.

  "Director Wei, now that the entity is dealt with, I’ll be taking my leave," Yan Qing announced, losing interest now that the "expert" turned out to be a fluke.

  "Mr. Yan, the world is in chaos. A man of your talents shouldn't be wandering the fringes," Wei Feng said earnestly. "Join the Ministry. I’ll give you the highest-tier benefits. Hell, I’ll even give you my chair!"

  Yan Qing shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm a free spirit. I don't do well with leashes."

  Wei Feng sighed, knowing he couldn't force a man like Yan Qing. At least the man wasn't a criminal.

  "Uh... excuse me, Boss? I’m available!"

  John raised his hand tentatively.

  "Hmm?" Wei Feng looked over, confused. "Available for what?"

  "For those highest-tier benefits you mentioned..."