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When the dead hold grudges, they refuse to enter reincarnation and linger as vengeful spirits. A millennium ago, a new faction emerged from the lineage of tomb raiders, abandoning tomb plundering to specialize in resolving feng shui disputes and subduing malevolent ghosts. This faction was known as the Yin Yang Si (Department of Yin and Yang). At its zenith, all matters related to burial rites, haunted tombs, and restless spirits fell under its jurisdiction.

Yet today, its legacy teeters on the brink of extinction. Only four core disciples remain: Qin Yichuan, Xun Yan, Yin Hongyu, and Yin Hongning.

In shadowy tunnels, vengeful spirits block their path; cursed garments, overflowing with resentment, kill without a trace. A massacre in an old mansion—was it orchestrated by human hands, or a ghostly act of revenge? Sinister bronze dolls and possessed bodies unravel decades-old secrets.

In remote villages, a relentless string of deaths and eerie midnight wails hide chilling truths.

Amidst rising mysteries and unquiet souls, follow Qin Yichuan and his allies as they uphold the duties of the Yin Yang Si, judging the dead and solving supernatural crimes.

Qin Yichuan and Xun Yan reunite to hunt ghosts and pursue justice.

Tags: Suspense & Mystery, Premium Fiction

Saga of the Tomb Raiders

Chapter 1: The Phantom of the Vintage Dress

Yin Hongyu picked up the phone. "Hello, Dongzhou Warehouse. How may I—"

Zheng Yang's voice crackled through the receiver. "Forget the warehouse spiel, Hong. It's Zheng Yang. We just got a report—a woman called, panicking about a missing vintage dress. Says it's haunted."

"Lost property? That's a job for the local precinct," Yin Hongyu snapped, peeling off her face mask.

"Normally, yes," Zheng Yang pleaded. "But she claims something unnatural is stalking her. Says the dress is going to kill her. Your Supernatural Investigation Unit's specialty, no?"

Yin Hongyu scoffed. "Is she even lucid? Half these 'haunted antiques' are knockoffs. Remember last month's 'murderous ancient tree' fiasco? Turned out the 'victim' was off his meds. Three nights I wasted staking out that grove—gave me crow's feet!"

"Listen," Zheng Yang cut in desperately. "I'll stake a month's salary this is real. There's an audio clip—just hear it."

Dispatcher: "Emergency Supernatural Control Bureau hotline. State your—"

Woman (hysterical): "There's a ghost! The dress—it's gone but it's here!"

Dispatcher: "What dress? Ma'am, if this is a prank—"

Woman: "It's outside! Dragging fabric… shhhk-shhhk… it's coming! I'm in the spare bathroom—never used since renovation—but it knows! Send help now!"

Dispatcher (calming): "Units are en route. Can you describe the—"

Woman: "I sell vintage clothes online. This piece… I bought it from… an acquaintance."

Dispatcher: "Must've been valuable, kept in your bedroom?"

Woman (suddenly cold): "How'd you know where I—"

The dispatcher's voice warped into a guttural chuckle. "Heh heh heh…"

Woman (screaming): "You're not police! What are you—"

"Holy hell," Yin Hongyu breathed. "Zheng, your lines are haunted now? Bureau security's gone to the dogs!"

"Impossible—all night shift dispatchers are male. This call never technically connected. We found it logged after the fact," Zheng Yang insisted.

"Look, I hunt mutants, not ghosts. Boss Qin and Agent Xun are away, and my kid brother's still in school. Can't you—"

"Three years' rent waiver," Zheng Yang blurted. "I'll file the paperwork. Just handle this."

"Deal!" Yin Hongyu slammed the phone, then dialed again. "Boss Qin? Solved our rent problem. Easy gig—haunted dress at Eastside Garden Unit 502. You're near Dongzhou anyway, right?"

Qin Yichuan's sports car sliced through the mountain tunnel's gloom. Though lit, the air felt thick as cobwebs. His tires crunched oddly—like grinding bones.

When his phone lost signal, he smirked. Fools. Haunting me?

The tunnel stretched unnaturally. Ahead, a wrecked black sedan came into view—passenger side pancaked. A petite woman materialized, dragging a spectral boy with a skull fracture oozing black mist.

"Sir… help us?" her echoey voice pleaded.

Qin glanced at the child's death-mist. "What'll you trade? A three-year wraith's got no worthy trinkets."

As she stared blankly with inkwell eyes, he sighed and lit a crumpled talisman. The smoke solidified into a judge's seal. The ghost knelt involuntarily.

"Roadside haunting's against the rules," Qin intoned. "I'll carry your grudge, but you'll move on after." A black thread sprouted from his wrist, binding both spirits.

The crash scene dissolved. Qin admired the glowing vial containing the ghosts. "Kid Yin's gadgets work, at least."

At Eastside Garden, two Supernatural Bureau trucks flooded the night with harsh light. Qin squinted as he stepped into the glare—and the real mystery began.