Phantom in First Class

Professor Guo's eyes misted. He clapped Huo Xuan's shoulder like sealing a blood pact. "I'll mobilize every relic authentication warlock from Beijing to Guangzhou. You'll get answers carved in jade."

The Xuande censer drama derailed their Ghost Valley Street plans. For six hours straight, Huo Xuan grilled the professor on Tang tri-color glazes and Song dynasty ink wash techniques—his X-ray vision cross-referencing every lesson.

"Audit my lectures at Heyuan University," the professor offered during their seventh pot of tea. "Your archaeological instincts... they smell like freshly opened tomb soil."

Huo Xuan's X-ray pupils glittered like black market scanners. This antique game? He'd dominate nine deals out of ten—every auction house floor his personal treasure map.

At dawn's first light, Huo Xuan shouldered his duffel bag. "Next month," the professor called from the porch, "we'll crack that censer's DNA—and get Hua Buyi to fix your spine like restoring a broken Han jade."

The bullet train? Too exposed. Huo Xuan booked a first-class seat to Dongling City—extra thousands for anonymity, plus hundreds for the cab ride into Nan'gang's fog-shrouded mountains.

Guo Lan's car idled at Departures. "Try not to get assassinated before the appraisal," she deadpanned, tossing him a jade talisman from her rearview mirror.

After all, he was worth hundreds of millions, so Huo Xuan decided to splurge and bought a first-class ticket. The first-class cabin had only eight seats, and including him, just six were occupied.

"700 RMB for champagne I'll piss out in two hours?" He winced as the flight attendant refilled his crystal flute. Next time, take economy with instant noodles.

To his left: a couple cradling a toddler. The man's Rolex Daytona glinted beneath cabin lights; the woman's Hermès Birkin sagged with medical reports. Their faces wore the ashen look of parents visiting pediatric oncology wards.

The boy's sallow complexion triggered Huo Xuan's X-ray reflex. Behind the child materialized a pale woman in white—her hair dripping phantom pond scum.

Huo Xuan's champagne flute shattered on the carpet. Fucking hell—a hungry ghost at 30,000 feet?

The entity's sickly green talons hovered over the toddler. Those crimson eyes burned with tomb-cold malice, fixated on the child's weakening aura.

Spectral fingers clawed at the boy's ears. Phantom nails gouged imaginary eyes. The toddler's blood-curdling scream sent flight attendants sprinting—but only Huo Xuan saw the ghostly hag riding the child's back.

The woman quickly hugged her son tightly, tears streaming down her face as she kissed him and said, "Don't cry, baby, don't cry. Mommy's here."

The man also looked heartbroken, standing helplessly with a lost expression. His gaze wandered until he suddenly noticed Huo Xuan staring fixedly at the empty space behind his wife, as if he had seen a ghost.

Having spent years navigating the business world, the man had developed sharp instincts—he could always sense when something was off. So he spoke up, "May I ask your name, brother?"

Huo Xuan snapped out of his daze, his face still slightly pale. He forced a smile and said, "I'm Huo Xuan. Why did the child suddenly start crying?"

The man sighed. "Mr. Huo, I'm Shang Yang. To be honest, my child developed a strange illness half a year ago. Every few days, he'd start crying uncontrollably, followed by a high fever. We've consulted countless doctors, but none could cure him."

Huo Xuan nodded thoughtfully. "Mr. Shang, since you've brought your child on this trip, are you seeking medical help?"

Shang Yang nodded with a bitter smile. "Yes, we heard there's a renowned old Chinese medicine practitioner in Dongling City—people call him the 'King of Dongling Medicine.' We decided to try our luck."

Huo Xuan let out a noncommittal "Hmm," hesitating as if he wanted to say something but ultimately holding back with a wry smile. Deep down, he wanted to warn Shang Yang that the child's condition might not be something doctors could fix.

Noticing his hesitation, Zheng Yang's interest was piqued. "Mr. Huo, it seems you have something to say? Earlier, I noticed you were staring at something—did you notice anything unusual?"

After a brief silence, Huo Xuan replied, "Mr. Shang, we've just met. You might not believe me, so it's better if I don't say anything."

Shang Yang quickly insisted, "Mr. Huo, don't say that. Even though we've never met before, I won't doubt you. Please, speak freely." He then frowned and added, "To be honest, I've had a vague feeling about this for a while—I just didn't dare believe it."

Huo Xuan took a deep breath and said quietly, "This child is haunted."

Shang Yang nodded slowly. "A master once told me the same thing, but he couldn't perform an exorcism. At the time, I was skeptical. But over the past month, the child's crying has gotten worse, and I've started to realize something's truly wrong. Now, I have no choice but to believe it. Since you've brought it up, Mr. Huo, you must have seen something. Please, you have to help me!"

Huo Xuan wrestled internally, unsure whether he should get involved. He glanced up again—the faint, flickering apparition of a "female ghost" was still tormenting the little boy, making him cry even harder.

What fresh hell is this? Huo Xuan's knuckles whitened on the armrest. If that's a hungry ghost... The toddler's whimpers decided him—his X-ray vision flickered online like a spiritual Geiger counter.

Memories of exorcising Zhuang Lele's nightmares flashed through his neural cortex. "Mr. Shang," he barked with ER-doctor authority, "let me hold the boy."

The bespectacled businessman practically shoved his wife aside. "Su Lei! Give Xiao Bao to Master Huo!"

The mother clutched her son like a porcelain funerary urn. "My baby's suffering enough without strangers' germs!" Her manicured nails drew blood from her husband's forearm.

Huo Xuan snorted dryly. His calloused palm slammed onto the toddler's crown chakra. The hungry ghost recoiled like scorched parchment, its crimson eyes burning holes through his leather jacket.

The cabin pressure normalized as the boy's wails cut off mid-breath. Jet-black pupils focused on Huo Xuan—the first lucid gaze in weeks.

"Next appearance," Huo Xuan growled at the spectral residue shimmering near the oxygen masks, "I'll scatter your ashes across three reincarnations."

The entity dissolved into seatback monitor static, leaving behind the stench of rotting lotuses.

Su Lei's Hermès scarf fluttered to the carpet. "Please," she choked, knees buckling against first-class champagne cart, "save my baby. Name your price—villa? Stock options? My soul?"

Huo Xuan's X-ray vision automatically calculated her willowy frame and delicate features—then slammed emergency brakes. Focus, idiot. This isn't a damn soap opera.

"Madam." He channeled Hua Buyi's bedside manner through gritted teeth. "This isn't conventional medicine. I can't promise—"

Shang Yang's Rolex-clad wrist intercepted him. "Mr. Huo!" The tycoon's grip could crush jade seals. "Cure my heir. I'll buy you private islands. Fund temples. Whatever!"

"I follow the healer's oath," Huo Xuan lied smoothly, mentally calculating how many rare medicinal herbs this could bankroll.

"Forgive my vulgarity, Master Huo!" The billionaire bowed like a Ming dynasty courtier. "Your celestial methods transcend—"

Shang Yang's eyes widened—this wasn't some street charlatan. The honorifics escalated: "Grandmaster Huo", "Living Bodhisattva".

Huo Xuan understood the couple's anxiety. He sat back and said: "Since you're going to see Dr. Dongling anyway, let him examine the child first. If he can't help, I'll step in later."

Shang Yang quickly asked: "Mr. Huo, are you also staying in Dongling?"

Huo Xuan nodded: "Yes, I'll be here for a while. Don't worry."

The couple felt relieved, believing Huo Xuan's presence increased their child's chances of recovery.

During the flight, Shang Yang deliberately befriended Huo Xuan. They learned Shang Yang was a businessman managing extensive family assets across Southeast Asia, America, and China.

The Shang family's headquarters were in Capital. Shang Yang oversaw operations in Jiangzhou and neighboring provinces as a key member.

Recently, they had consulted a famous doctor in Heyuan without success, prompting their urgent trip to Dongling for the renowned "Medical King".

Fifty minutes later, a middle-aged man in suit greeted them at the exit: "Mr. Shang, the car is ready."

Shang Yang gestured respectfully: "Mr. Huo, after you."

The assistant wondered about Huo Xuan's status but remained deferential, ushering him into the car.

The extended Rolls-Royce limousine's opulence amazed Huo Xuan. The cabin remained silent and smooth.

Shang Yang asked: "Is the appointment with Dr. Dongling confirmed?"

The assistant replied: "Yes, scheduled tomorrow noon at Dongling Grand Hotel."

Shang Yang nodded in approval.

The 68-story Dongling Grand Hotel, a Shang family property, stood as a city landmark.

Huo Xuan was given a suite rivaling Jiangzhou's presidential rooms. Settling in, he remembered an uncle in Jiangzhou and decided to visit.

Though rarely in contact since childhood, Huo Xuan felt maintaining family ties was important.