Lin Xu is a seventh-generation Talisman Master, broke, and being chased by ghosts who want their debts paid. Chen Tutu is a Daoist with real skill and very few words. Together they dodge vengeful spirits and Dark Practitioners in a world where family heirlooms hold old magic and ghost officers can be bribed with cigarettes.
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“I want—”
“I want it—”
“Give me—”
“Give it to me—”
If a woman’s voice like this appeared in a single man’s bedroom, wouldn’t it stir the imagination? Wouldn’t your mind already be filling in all kinds of pixelated scenarios?
Yes, that voice had me all worked up.
At this moment, I was so terrified by those repeated, breathy cries that I cowered beneath my blanket, shivering and drenched in cold sweat, which had nearly soaked my bedding.
I clutched the Judge’s Brush tightly. Because of the surrounding ghostly energy, the brush in its jade box let out one low hum after another.
“No, I can’t make a move yet. Just endure… endure a while longer…” Deep down, I sensed that tonight might well be the end of me.
I didn’t need to look to know that outside, layer upon layer of ghostly figures must have gathered—clawing, glaring, desperate to squeeze into my room.
“Damn it, two years—two whole years. I’ve held out for two years, and if I die now, wouldn’t that be a huge loss?”
Frightened beyond reason, I didn’t even dare poke my head out from under the covers. Indeed, there was no erotic scene here—only me, scared out of my wits.
Honestly, the whole thing is humiliating to explain.
My name is Lin Xu. I’m twenty-five, the seventh-generation talisman master of the Qingxiao Sect. Sounds pretty impressive, right? But for the past two years, I’ve been bullied nonstop by a hundred ghosts. I don’t even dare step outside my own front door.
All because of a mistake my father made two years ago in his line of work. He and my mother ended up losing their lives, and they left me saddled with a massive yin debt. My luck and fortune were slashed right to the brink of death.
Being unlucky is one thing, but here’s the problem: since our Lin family doesn’t practice Daoist arts, we can’t judge karma. That means we can’t determine which ghost should be guided toward rebirth or which should be destroyed.
If by some miracle we guessed correctly, fine. But if we guessed wrong, we’d be committing a sin, which would reduce my already depleted luck even further. And once my luck hits zero, I’d be finished, no matter where I tried to hide.
That’s not even the worst part. These wandering ghosts feel a natural affinity for the Lin family bloodline, so they show up constantly, clamoring for our talismanic blessings. Every day, their numbers grow.
Given my current luck, if I intervene, I’m guaranteed to make the wrong call, which means I’d shoulder more yin debt. And even just a bit more of it would guarantee my death—even if I locked myself inside a bank vault.
So I can’t make a move. Because I absolutely cannot die.
However, my father once said that the Qingxiao Sect originally had more than just our family. There was another family named Chen, old friends of the Lin family, who specialized in Daoist arts. They could read karma and distinguish who needs saving and who should be wiped out. Unfortunately, during the war against the invaders, we lost all contact with them.
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