The Villain's Mom Becomes Famous for Fortune-Telling and Gossip Ch. 32

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Sure enough, Yu Yuan squinted a little and let out another yawn. "Nah. That whole ritual act is either for scammers or people who aren't strong enough to handle vengeful spirits on their own. They use those rites to borrow power from the heavens. But this is just a minor ghost. No need to overdo it."

She gestured at the door. "It's not that strong. Open up."

The manager and Yu Qingqing glanced at each other and hesitated, but in the end, since it was her place, Yu Qingqing stepped up to unlock the door.

It was the time of day when the sun's energy was at its purest. But the second the door opened, there was no warm, sunshiny feeling at all. Instead, a foul, dusty stench hit them right in the face. Just breathing it in made their whole bodies feel gross.

Yu Yuan instantly covered her mouth. That lazy look in her eyes disappeared, replaced by sharp disgust and coldness.

That stench... The ghost child in this place must've just been born when it died. Someone had drowned it in corpse oil while it was still alive. The kind of person who'd make a ghost that way? Evil and stupid.

Yu Qingqing and the manager noticed Yu Yuan's face darken and immediately shut up, too scared to say a word.

Meanwhile, Yu Yuan, still covering her nose, walked straight into the room and headed for a corner. She bent down and grabbed at something. The moment her hand closed around thin air, a sharp, hateful child's scream nearly blew out the eardrums of the two standing outside:

"AAAHHHHHHH!"

"You stinky Taoist! Let me go! Let me go!"

"Daddy! Help me!"

Out of nowhere, a shriveled little kid in a red cotton jacket suddenly appeared in that empty corner. It was barely the size of a brick, skin black and dried out, like a mummified chick. It thrashed wildly in Yu Yuan's grip as she held it up like a broken toy.

Yu Yuan gave the ghost kid a casual shake, then turned around and faced Yu Qingqing, who looked like her legs might give out any second. "That night—was this what you saw?"

The little ghost kicked and struggled like mad, even while being choked. It glared at Yu Qingqing with pure venom, its hatred almost physically radiating off it. "You evil woman! You actually brought someone to hurt me! Just wait till I tell Daddy—he's gonna tear you to pieces—AARGH!"

Yu Yuan tightened her grip, and the ghost kid let out a high-pitched, blood-curdling shriek. The sound was so sharp, it made the manager outside the door feel like her scalp was about to split.

"You two, get in here and open all the curtains."

The living room had been completely sealed up, thick curtains blocking every inch of sunlight. With no sun shining in, the ghost energy left behind by the kid hadn't dispersed—in fact, it had only gotten denser and nastier.

Yu Qingqing and her manager stared in horror at the creepy little corpse doll Yu Yuan was holding, then leaned on each other as they shuffled over to the curtains.

Shhhhkkk—

The heavy drapes were pulled open, and blinding sunlight flooded the whole room.

The ghost kid in Yu Yuan's hand let out another ear-splitting scream, its body twitching violently as smoke started to rise off its skin in thick, curling tendrils.

"AAAHHHH!"

"No! No sunlight! Get it away!"

"Daddy! DADDY!!"

"AAAAAH—!"

Its thrashing got more and more frantic, almost unhinged—then, just when it felt like it would explode, everything started to settle. The black, dried-up body began to shrink and shrivel, about half its original size now.

Yu Yuan narrowed her eyes and looked toward the northwest.

At that exact moment, in the neighboring city, a middle-aged man who had been sitting in meditation suddenly spat out a mouthful of black blood. The violent cough shocked the teenage boy beside him.

"Father!"

The kid rushed over in a panic, but was stopped by a sharp command from the man. He stood there helplessly, not knowing what to do.

"I'm fine," the man wiped the blood from his lips, lowered his gaze to hide the dark look in his eyes, and gave his son a gentle smile. "Go on now, or you'll be late for class."

The boy knew better than to argue, so he just nodded, picked up his little meditation cushion, and quietly left the room.

The moment his son stepped out, the man's expression darkened.

He stood up and glanced toward the spot where the ghost child had been enshrined. Sure enough, one of the ghostly little heads had split clean in half.

He was trying to remember who he had sold that ghost child to when his phone suddenly rang.

"Master..."

The voice on the other end was familiar—raspy, with labored breathing like a busted bellows, and a wet cough that wouldn't stop.

"Master... please help me, I'll pay whatever it takes, just help me..."

The man immediately remembered who had bought that ghost child. "Mr. Wang, something happened with the ghost?"

"Something happened, alright!" Mr. Wang's voice cracked with panic, full-on verge-of-tears mode. "I swear I followed every single instruction, didn't break any taboos or rules! But—but that thing just showed up out of nowhere and pushed me down the stairs—I nearly died!!!"

"Calm down, Mr. Wang," the man said after thinking for a moment. "You probably crossed paths with someone from the Xuanmen. I'll use the ghost child to connect with them. Once I make contact, everything will be handled."

"Alright, alright!" Mr. Wang agreed in a heartbeat. "Master, money's not a problem! Five hundred thousand! No—make that one million! I've already told my people to send it over! Please, just help me quickly!"

"Rest easy, Mr. Wang. It's no big deal. I'll get started right away," the middle-aged man replied smoothly before hanging up. He placed an incense stick into a blood-stained censer in front of him—but didn't move after that.

He stared at the tip of the incense as it burned down, and only once it was almost gone did he slowly tidy up his robes, stand up, and walk over to the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside, the sun was shining bright, and the garden was full of blooming flowers and thriving greenery. But the golden rays pouring through the lattice window couldn't reach the darkness in his eyes.

The man dipped his fingers in the incense ash and rubbed it between them. Then he sneered and brushed it off his hands.

Once the incense burns out, the life tied to it ends. Good riddance.

Customers like that—who make all their decisions based on whatever's between their legs and don't use their brains—are nothing but future problems. Better to have the ghost kid take him out now and be done with it.

But...

The man's expression suddenly turned grim.

Who the hell in the entire Celestial Masters Hall is messing with my business?

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