05,why？？？

Following the butler into the room, Han Ling was suddenly hit by a faint fragrance. That scent…

He quickly turned his gaze toward the source — and saw the man sitting next to An Yan.

"Why are you here?"

Han Ling couldn't hide his surprise. He hadn't told Leander where he was going — so how did this guy show up here?

Leander only looked back at him with a faint smile. Before Han Ling could say more, An Yan quickly stood up and interjected:

"Master! He's my cousin. You don't mind outsiders being here, right?"

"Your… cousin?" Han Ling raised a brow, a little caught off guard.

"Yes! Master, please — save my family!" An Yan looked as if he was about to collapse into Han Ling's arms and sob.

"…Hold on. Your house has way too many ghosts."

From the outside it wasn't obvious, but the moment he stepped inside, Han Ling had already sensed the unnatural chill permeating the place. This whole house felt like a massive yin-gathering array.

He swept his eyes around, carefully studying the layout, furnishings, and architecture. The structure itself was fine — the problem lay in the placement of certain objects.

On top of that, because An Yan's family did business, they also worshiped a statue of Guan Yu at home.

But in Han Ling's eyes, that statue was no true god — it was a corrupted idol, a false deity.

He stepped closer to the altar.

The fierce and upright expression that Guan Yu's statue should have worn was now twisted into a strange arc, as though suppressing some malicious intent.

Its deep-set eyes were shrouded in a shadow, no longer dignified but instead radiating a chilling, murderous aura.

The once-heroic brows and proud features had been warped into something sinister, a faint sneer playing at the corners of its lips — a smile full of malice and mockery, like a ghost wearing a corpse's skin.

The previously solemn face had grown dark and dull, wisps of black mist seeping from the cracks in its brow and coiling around it like serpents.

The oppressive, malevolent force that emanated from it was suffocating — as if something within the idol had opened its eyes and was coldly looking down on all present.

All over the house, in corners and shelves, Han Ling noticed talismans meant to gather yin energy hidden among the furnishings.

This false god, together with the lonely wandering spirits attracted by the overwhelming yin here, had turned the mansion into a veritable haunted house.

Fortunately, the false god must have been enshrined here only recently — its power wasn't strong yet and it still needed to consume wild ghosts to grow. It hadn't yet harmed the family directly.

But…

Someone else had run out of patience and struck first, severely injuring the family and planning to finish the job tonight.

"Go collect the yin-gathering talismans hidden around the house. They're all tucked in the corners somewhere."

No sooner had he spoken than the sword spirit curled around his wrist transformed into its true form and flew into the air, circling Han Ling while wiggling and pointing in various directions.

"Oh? You want to help too?"

When Han Ling caught on to its meaning, the little spirit spun excitedly around him.

"This is Xiao Yun," Han Ling said. "It'll go with you to find the talismans — it'll make things easier."

Then he handed the safety charms he'd drawn in the car to An Yan — and another to Leander.

Leander accepted it with a smile and, as if by accident, brushed his fingers against Han Ling's hand.

Han Ling shot him a wordless look.

Only he knew… that even though he'd used a spell to suppress his scent, getting close to Leander still brought out that inexplicably enticing fragrance he couldn't block out.

Han Ling quietly made up his mind: after this was over, he needed to get to the bottom of it.

He knew his own special constitution — and it seemed that even after reincarnating into this body, it still remained.

So the rumors were true — those who devoured his kind of constitution would always be favored by Heaven.

On the other hand… Leander also found himself more and more addicted to the faint, indescribably sweet scent clinging to Han Ling.

A heat began to stir low in his abdomen, an impulse he could hardly restrain…

His eyes darkened as he lowered his gaze.

(Of course, Han Ling wouldn't realize this until much later.)

While the sword spirit Xiao Yun led An Yan to collect all the yin talismans hidden around the house…

— — —

The candles in front of the altar flickered and danced. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few more degrees, and the oppressive silence pressed down from all sides.

The false idol sat there at the center of the altar, its once finely-carved face now twisted with malice, black mist seeping from beneath it like a net creeping across the room.

Han Ling, dressed casually in warm tones that seemed to catch a cold gleam in the candlelight, approached the altar, spirit brush in hand.

His expression was calm, his eyes cold as he stared at the idol without the slightest hint of fear.

"Running wild here… without even checking whose house this is."

He raised his right hand, and a faint platinum glow ignited at the tip of his brush.

In an instant, spiritual power gathered at his fingertips, the glowing brush cutting through the black mist. With a quick flick of his wrist, he drew the first stroke — a series of radiant sigils flared to life in midair, hanging before the idol with an oppressive authority.

The false deity, which had thought him nothing more than a half-baked exorcist, suddenly realized — this human really could wield spiritual power.

It tried to flee. But Han Ling had already seen through it.

"Seal."

The single word left his lips like a command, his brush spinning through the air again.

A fully-formed sealing talisman materialized, exuding a soft white light and humming faintly, as if alive, driving back the choking yin energy.

The idol shuddered violently, its eyes flashing red as black smoke poured from its body, clawing desperately at the talisman to tear it apart.

But Han Ling didn't flinch. He merely lifted his brush, and the talisman split apart with a crack like thunder, shooting like lightning straight into the idol's brow.

"Get — out."

The burst of light engulfed the statue, forcing the black mist out amid a shrill, ghostly scream. The entity was finally ripped free, its struggling form bound and suspended as a dark, writhing ball of smoke in midair.

The idol's features slowly regained their proper dignity, the candle flames steadied, and the chill retreated from the room.

Han Ling reached out, collected the sealed black mist, and tucked his brush away.

He shot the altar a faintly mocking smile.

"A false god like you… thinks it can guard a home?"

Leander, who had been silently watching nearby, finally broke into a grin.

"You're amazing."

Watching Han Ling write those brilliant sigils in midair had utterly captivated him.

Love at first sight might not be reliable — but he thought, just maybe… he'd already fallen for him.

"Heh. Just a small matter."

On the other side, Xiao Yun quickly finished gathering the talismans with An Yan, then circled Han Ling proudly.

An Yan handed the collected charms to him, and Han Ling burned them to ashes with spiritual power, dispersing the lingering yin energy and scaring away the remaining wandering ghosts.

"Alright, that's done. Now for the real problem — where's the cursed medium?"

"In my bedroom… I didn't dare touch it." An Yan said sheepishly.

"Show me the way."

An Yan immediately led him there.

The sight of the floor covered in corpse oil and blood made Han Ling frown. Xiao Yun transformed back into a bracelet and wrapped itself around his wrist, clearly disgusted.

He cleansed himself with a purification mudra, then opened the suitcase to retrieve the cursed sachet, sealing it in a charm and storing it away.

"Keep your family together in one room — it'll make it easier to monitor them."

An Yan hesitated.

"…I already sent the servants away…"

"…Doesn't matter."

But when Han Ling went to pull out more talisman papers — he realized he was out.

He cursed under his breath. He really should've asked the butler for more before he left!

"Got any spare paper? Even blank will do."

An Yan hurried to grab some A4 sheets from the study. Han Ling folded them casually into four little paper figurines, breathed spiritual energy into them, and they came to life, scurrying off to carry the unconscious family members to the altar.

An Yan looked at his family — still unconscious, their skin darkening into a sickly purple.

That… meant they were close to death.

— — —

The night grew deep.

The entire estate was swallowed by darkness, save for the altar, where three sticks of incense burned faintly, their glow barely lighting the still air.

Han Ling stood before the altar, absently brushing his fingers over the bracelet on his wrist. His face was calm — as though all of this was routine for him.

When he turned his head, his gaze fell not on the anxious An Yan… but on the man standing beside him.

"You. Stand here. Don't distract him."

He pointed at Leander, who didn't hesitate — he stepped right to Han Ling's side.

"… …"

An Yan was left speechless.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly.

Ayan bit his lip hard and nodded firmly. Although unease gnawed at him, there was a force in his heart that kept him standing—his family. No matter how terrifying it was, he had to find them.

Han Ling glanced at him with a faint, knowing smile, as if he could see right through the fear in Ayan's heart. He reached out and tapped a finger between Ayan's brows. A faint bluish light seeped into his body, and Ayan felt warmth slowly returning to him, the cold sweat on his back easing slightly.

"This is the Breath Concealment Spell. It hides your aura as a living person, so the ghosts won't immediately see you as prey. But it's only temporary. Once you're inside, don't call out random names, don't look at things you shouldn't, don't say things you shouldn't. Just call your family's names. That's all."

"I've lit three sticks of incense. If they burn out before you come back, you'll never make it back. So remember—once you find them, call for me. Do you understand?"

"…Y-yes…"** Ayan's voice trembled.

"One more thing." Han Ling said, and with a faint glimmer of spiritual energy, he conjured a chain of pure silver-white light. It shimmered like flowing water, yet exuded a faint, cutting chill. He circled behind Ayan, wrapped the chain around his left wrist, and pressed down a final seal. The chain clicked shut.

Clink—

The faint metallic sound made Ayan shudder as though something had been forcibly tugged from deep inside him. He nearly fell to his knees.

"A soul-binding chain. It'll pull your spirit back into your body after you find them. Without it, an ordinary soul like yours would be torn apart the moment it left your body."

Ayan stared blankly at the chain glinting faintly around his wrist in the candlelight. He took a deep breath.

"Take this too." Han Ling handed him a pen.

The pen was slender and black, the barrel covered with intricate patterns like ink brush strokes—but if you looked closely, you could feel spiritual energy writhing beneath the surface. The tip gleamed coldly, clearly more than just for "writing."

"A… ballpoint pen?" Ayan took it hesitantly.

"… ..."Han Ling didn't bother replying. He brushed his finger over the pen, and a tiny formation sigil lit up on the barrel.

I've inscribed a Soul-Trapping Array on it. When those clinging, malevolent ghosts come at you, just slash at them with the tip. It'll draw in their aura. But remember—only use it on strange ghosts, never on your family."

Ayan nodded hard, his palms already damp.

"And this." Han Ling's gaze fell on a small wooden picture frame resting on the altar's side table. Inside was a family photo of five: Alice, An Junhui, Anyang, Annie, and a baby-faced Ayan—all smiling brightly.

"This is the medium, isn't it?" Han Ling picked up the frame and handed it to Ayan.

"Everyone in your family has touched this. Take it with you to track their aura."

"Yes." Ayan accepted it carefully with both hands.

Han Ling stepped back to the altar. Holding his spirit brush, his robes fluttered as the incense smoke around them began to swirl. He bent down, and in a few swift strokes, he sketched a massive formation into the air. The brush moved silently, leaving behind shimmering silver lines that seemed to cut open the void itself.

Within a few breaths, a huge glowing array lit up on the floor.

"Step in." Han Ling said coolly.

Ayan took a deep breath, clutching the photo to his chest, and stepped into the center of the formation. Han Ling formed a seal with his fingers and called out:

"Begin!"

Clang—!

The chain suddenly tightened with a sharp sound!

In an instant, Ayan felt the world spin. His spirit was yanked out of his body, and he glanced down to see his flesh still standing inside the array as his soul was pulled into a pitch-black tunnel.

—

When light returned, he found himself on a strange street.

The night air was chilly. Both sides of the street were deserted, with only a few crooked red and blue lanterns casting eerie hues on the ground. Wisps of fog drifted through the air, carrying a faint metallic scent.

Even more chilling were the twisted, blurred spirits drifting down the street. They moaned softly, some crawling, some floating, glancing at him now and then.

Ayan gasped and remembered Han Ling's instructions—don't call random names, don't look at what you shouldn't.

He lowered his head, staring only at his toes, and forced out his voice despite the tremor:

"…Mom? Alice? …Dad? An Junhui? …Brother… Anyang? …Sister… Annie…?"

His voice echoed down the dead street like stones thrown into still water.

At first, there was no reply.

But he didn't dare stop, nor look around. He just kept calling his family's names, stumbling forward, squeezing through the moaning ghosts.

He didn't know how long he had been calling when at last—a faint, familiar cry came from the fog ahead.

"…Xiao Yan…?"

It was his mother's voice!

He jerked his head up and saw a woman's figure in the distance, golden hair disheveled, her eyes wide with terror and helplessness.

"Mom!!!" Ayan almost burst into tears as he ran toward her.

The woman reached out her arms toward him.

Then came a burly man, a slender young man, and a ponytailed girl—his dad, his brother, his sister! They were all here!

"Dad! Bro! Sis!" Ayan's voice was hoarse.

But just as they were about to touch, a cold wind howled past. A shadowy figure leapt from the corner like a feral beast, its form writhing with malice and hunger, lunging at Ayan!

"Ah—!!" Ayan screamed, stumbling backward in panic as chaos erupted.

The other spirits on the street began shrieking and surging toward them as icy winds raged.

His mind went blank, but one thought stayed clear—Han Ling's words. The pen!

He gripped the spirit pen, gritted his teeth, and slashed wildly at the lunging ghost!

A flash of silver. The ghost let out a shrill wail as silver threads pulled it into the pen.

Ayan didn't dare stop. He dragged his family along, running, slashing wildly at the ghosts closing in. Each stroke of the pen lit up, sucking in another shrieking spirit.

His breath was ragged, nearly breaking, but he clung to his family, refusing to stop.

Finally, at the last corner, he shouted with all his might:

"Han Ling—!!"

In the distance, a familiar, cold voice answered:

"Hold on."

The chain snapped tight again, flashing silver.

Everything went black. When Ayan opened his eyes, he was back before the altar, still standing in the formation, his legs trembling.

The spirit pen in his hand glowed faintly red, heavy now, as though it carried the weight of the spirits inside.

Han Ling stood outside the formation, gaze calm and unsurprised, as though he'd always known Ayan could do it.

"…Not bad." he said, drawing a line in the air to unbind the chain, sending Ayan's spirit back into his body.

Ayan collapsed to his knees, gasping, tears nearly falling, but clutching the family photo tightly to his chest.

"…They're… back…" he whispered hoarsely.

Before the altar, the three incense sticks finally burned to their tips. Wisps of smoke rose and coalesced into four faint figures standing quietly behind him, smiling in relief.

Han Ling glanced at him, his eyes deep as he murmured:

"If this is the home you're guarding—don't let anyone take it from you."