"Ah... he just ran off like that?" Wang Bing was dumbfounded.
"Hm?" Mo Lin was equally stunned.
"What does this mean?"
"Two dragons playing with a pig?"
Was he toying with me?
Just moments ago, he had helped Wang Bing upgrade his contracted ghost to a perilous level, and in the blink of an eye, Yang Xu had driven off with the caged Yin envoy.
A free ride?
Was Wang Bing really that scheming?
Wang Bing was mortified.
"Brother Mo, it's a misunderstanding, a total misunderstanding."
He stammered to explain, sweat beading on his forehead. "That guy acted on his own—he ran off with the Yin envoy. I swear I didn't tell him to do it."
"I never told him to... it was all his decision..."
The more Wang Bing spoke, the drier his mouth became. He suddenly felt like all his explanations only made things worse—like he was desperately trying to cover something up.
Panicked, he pulled out his phone. "I'll call him right now and tell him to come back."
As he dialed Yang Xu's number, he deliberately turned on the speaker to avoid suspicion.
The call connected. On the other end, Yang Xu's voice rang out, earnest and emotional.
"Young master, hang in there. I'll go fetch someone to rescue you right away."
"What the hell are you doing?!" Wang Bing exploded.
Yang Xu had run off with the Yin envoy, leaving him in this humiliating situation.
Wasn't this just asking to be laughed at?
"Get back here, now!" Wang Bing roared.
"Young master, I understand—you only said that because you're under his oppressive power."
"Oppressive my ass! Bring the envoy back, now!"
"I know you're saying that under duress. When I return, I'll report everything to the old master. He'll definitely send someone to save you and deal with that guy."
Yang Xu was practically ready to praise himself.
How clever he had been.
Good thing he took off with the Yin envoy—that was worth twenty thousand ghost coins.
Otherwise, they'd have suffered a major loss at this Jinci Hall auction.
"What are you imagining?! I wasn't threatened! I did it willingly! Bring the Yin envoy back!" Wang Bing shouted anxiously.
Perhaps it was because he sounded so desperate, but Yang Xu had no intention of returning—in fact, his resolve only grew stronger.
"Young master, don't worry. I will bring the envoy back to the Wang family."
"You're showing loyalty now of all times?"
"You really are a genius, huh? Can you not make yourself so obvious?" Wang Bing couldn't help but complain.
"Young master, say what you will—but today, I was sharp. If not for me, you'd have lost twenty thousand ghost coins."
Yang Xu ignored everything else, but the word clever echoed in his ears loud and clear.
Wang Bing glanced at Mo Lin, then at his phone. "Brother Mo… this..."
Mo Lin understood. It was clearly a misunderstanding, and one that wouldn't be easily cleared up.
"I'll go to your place later and retrieve the Yin envoy myself," Mo Lin said slowly.
"Alright." Wang Bing nodded.
He was baffled. Since when did Yang Xu, a man who hated thinking, become such a scene-stealer today?
It was truly exhausting.
Wang Bing could only feel awkward.
"Brother Mo, would you like to head to my place now?" Wang Bing pointed in the direction of his home.
"I have another matter to handle first. Then I'll come."
"What matter?" Wang Bing asked curiously.
"None of your concern."
Wang Bing shrank his neck back and immediately fell silent, following closely behind Mo Lin.
Qian Yun stood on Mo Lin's left, Wang Bing on his right, as the three stepped into Jinci Hall together.
"Who captured the Yin envoy?"
One sentence thundered through the air like a lightning strike.
Wang Bing's head buzzed instantly.
He thought Mo Lin was here to negotiate or handle things peacefully.
But judging by his tone—wasn't this a direct provocation?
Wang Bing instinctively stepped back a few paces, not wanting to get dragged into this.
Even Qian Yun flinched.
She had thought Mo Lin might use some clever tactic or approach this diplomatically.
She had considered every possibility—except that Mo Lin would open with such a detonating question.
The auction had just ended, and everyone was getting ready to leave.
But Mo Lin's booming voice drew them all back.
Everyone's eyes focused on him.
They were all curious.
Who was bold—or foolish—enough to cause trouble at Jinci Hall?
Who didn't know the fearsome reputation of this place?
The middle-aged man narrowed his eyes, his lips curling into a cold smile.
"Young man, what is the meaning of this?" His tone was frigid.
The atmosphere instantly froze.
"I asked who captured the Yin envoy," Mo Lin repeated.
Ye Dou's envoy had been seized—Mo Lin had to get to the bottom of it.
A captured Yin envoy was a major incident, even in the underworld.
In the living world, it was an even graver matter, fraught with wider implications.
Mo Lin needed—no, was bound—to know who was responsible.
"What's it to you?"
A man nearby spat out the insult.
Bang!
A soul chain struck the man squarely, sending him flying over a meter before crashing hard to the ground.
He was a nobody—Mo Lin punished him for his foul mouth, but didn't go overboard.
After all, a minor lackey like that wasn't worth using as an example.
But the moment Mo Lin revealed his ghost technique,
the entire room turned to ice.
"You're here to stir up trouble at Jinci Hall?" the middle-aged man barked.
Several other men stepped up behind him.
"Brother Mo, those men are all Grade-3 Ghost Tamers," Qian Yun whispered, worried Mo Lin might be outmatched.
"I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm just asking about the Yin envoy."
"And that's how you ask questions?" the man sneered.
"Coming to Jinci Hall to provoke us? Don't expect to leave."
With a snort, he prepared to summon his contracted ghost—
But suddenly realized... it was gone.
No matter how he tried to call it, there was no response.
And not just him—
The men behind him also found their ghosts unresponsive.
"What's going on?" he asked, bewildered.
Their ghosts weren't unable to respond.
They refused to appear.
They were afraid—afraid of Mo Lin's official Yin Division robes.
"I'll count to three.
If no one tells me who captured the envoy,
I'll be forced to take action."
Mo Lin furrowed his brows. There was no point in further conversation.
Did he really think a polite tone would get these people to talk?
Impossible.
He needed to instill fear—
Only then would they speak.
"One."
"Two."
Still, none of the men budged.
They acted as though they hadn't even heard him.
"Three."
Not a single reaction.
It was clear—without force, there would be no cooperation.
"Urgh..."
Mo Lin lowered his head and opened his mouth.
He looked as though he were about to vomit.
Drip...
A thick, viscous liquid began to drip from his lips.
It splattered on the ground.
Perhaps due to the stark contrast between the underworld and the living world,
using the Five-Organ Ghost Containment Technique here was jarring, almost incompatible.
And this discomfort was now manifesting in a grotesque, undeniable way.