Chapter Fourteen: Calling for Reinforcements

The alley known as Xinmin Lane couldn’t undergo large-scale construction, so there was no way to install central heating pipes; moreover, in order to preserve its historical appearance, outdoor air conditioners were forbidden, meaning that the units had to be installed inside the courtyards. Once the air conditioners were turned on in summer, the courtyards became uninhabitable.

In short, living here meant freezing to death in winter and baking in summer. The living conditions were abysmal. As a result, most residents rented out their homes. With convenient transportation and affordable rents, the place became the first choice for migrant workers coming to the city. The tenants were a motley crowd; Yang Meng had lived here for years.

“Hey, handsome, come in and have some fun?” A woman, heavy makeup and gaudy attire, blocked Yang Meng’s path.

Yang Meng smiled wryly. “Sister Ma, can you stop teasing me?”

The woman waved dismissively as she recognized Yang Meng. “Oh, it’s you, little Yang. Calling me ‘sister’ again, huh? If someone else hears, they’ll think badly of me. Why didn’t you ride your motorcycle? Taking a taxi home—makes me lose face.”

Yang Meng scratched his head. “My bike got stolen, so I had to take a cab. Alright, little fairy, it’s all my fault.”

At the nickname ‘little fairy,’ the woman laughed heartily. “So many people in this alley, but I like you best. Sweet-talker! Have you eaten? I just bought a white-cut chicken from Orange Fragrance House—let’s have a drink tonight?”

Yang Meng waved his hand. “Little fairy, have mercy. I just lost my job today, really not in the mood for a drink.”

Nearby, a few other heavily made-up women burst out laughing. “Little Yang isn’t avoiding a drink—he’s afraid you’ll pounce on him!”

Their laughter echoed through the alley. Yang Meng quickly made a pleading gesture. “Ladies, spare me. I’ll head home now!”

“Oh, Little Yang’s shy!”

Amid their teasing, Yang Meng prepared to leave.

“Little Yang, got any cigarettes?” Sister Ma asked.

Yang Meng patted his pocket. “Damn, forgot to buy cigarettes. I’ll go get a pack now—want one?”

“Such a sweet talker! Here, this is your reward.” Sister Ma tossed him half a pack.

Yang Meng caught it and waved. “Thanks!”

Women like Sister Ma were common in Xinmin Lane; they were the reason for the cab drivers’ odd looks.

Take Sister Ma, for example—real name Ma Fengying, already over forty. Every night she stood by the street, thick makeup masking her age. The police had arrested her many times, tried fines and detentions, but she always returned to her trade once released.

Yang Meng wasn’t in a position to judge their choices—right or wrong. From a sympathetic angle, they hadn’t received higher education, lacked life skills, and so turned to this line of work. Besides, where there’s demand, there’s supply, isn’t there?

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if they had no other options; this work was easy and paid well. As long as one could set aside their pride, the money came quickly.

Everything in the world has two sides. It all depends on your perspective. Instead of meddling in others’ lives, taking care of your own is the proper way.

Most tenants here shared courtyards—rent was cheap, and the crowd was diverse: nightclub girls and boys, construction laborers, impoverished locals... Life here offered glimpses of every facet of humanity.

But Yang Meng lived alone in his own courtyard—not out of fastidiousness, but because sharing a place became inconvenient after he got a girlfriend. So he rented the courtyard for himself.

Ah, love always brings greater expenses.

Yang Meng lay tossing and turning on his bed, unable to sleep. After finally banishing Wang Xin Nuan’s face from his mind, his thoughts turned to the events of the day.

Summoning a ghost soldier lasted only about three minutes? His magical power was far too weak. At this rate, when would he ever command a million ghost soldiers?

But the spells handed down from the Emperor of the Eastern Peak relied mainly on accumulating merit to improve. Was he to become a soul collector, dragging spirits every day? Wouldn’t the dignified Emperor of the Eastern Peak become just a mere ghost official?

Well, it truly was starting from the bottom...

Wait?

Suddenly, a question popped into Yang Meng’s mind: where did the “Black Domain” flame on his body come from? How could he summon it again?

If he really became a ghost official catching spirits to earn merit, the Black Domain would be a formidable weapon. He had to figure out how to wield it at will.

But the Emperor of the Eastern Peak’s legacy didn’t include instructions for the Black Domain—it was, after all, the unique skill of the Great Emperor Pan Gu. Who knew how that middle-aged immortal had mastered it?

But was that immortal actually Pan Gu?

Yang Meng shook his head at this thought. That couldn’t be possible.

What was Pan Gu? An ancient titan! How could he possibly have been imprisoned for ten thousand years?

Yang Meng lay on his bed, hugging his wine gourd. The gourd was peculiar—once emptied, a bit of magical energy would refill it quickly, utterly defying the laws of energy conservation.

What was it then? A magical power bank?

Nothing about the gods was scientific anyway!

If only he could master the Black Domain—then he’d have nothing to fear when catching ghosts. But how could he use it?

Just as he pondered this, a ball of black fire suddenly ignited in his hand—the very Black Domain of Pan Gu. Yet Yang Meng had no time to celebrate; he leapt from his bed. “Oh damn, it’s burning!”

He shouted, frantically shaking his hand to extinguish the flames, but...

“Huh? It doesn’t hurt?” Yang Meng looked at the black fire dancing on his palm, amused. So it was that easy to summon the Black Domain.

But then he noticed something amiss: in the elevator, the Black Domain had enveloped his whole body, but now, no matter how he tried, it only covered his right hand.

“Looks like the Black Domain needs to level up, too. Damn, I should have asked that immortal about it!” Yang Meng stared at the Black Domain on his hand, filled with helplessness.

Wasn’t the Black Domain supposed to have the power to traverse the void? Logically, he could return straight to the Palace of the Eastern Peak, but Yang Meng had no idea how to use it.

How had he returned before? That middle-aged immortal had burned him back! Now he had the Black Domain on his hand—yet it couldn’t even singe his clothes, let alone himself. How was he supposed to go back?

The only consolation was that he could control the Black Domain on his right hand at will. Was this fate nudging him to fight demons and uphold the way?

Please! He couldn’t even watch horror movies, and now he was to hunt ghosts?

Was this an extreme challenge?

Hmm... What would happen if he used his flaming hand in intimacy?

He shook his head vigorously, dismissing that reckless idea.

Yang Meng lay back on his bed. The road ahead was long and arduous—mastering the Emperor of the Eastern Peak’s legacy would be no easy task.

He lay there daydreaming for a while before finally drifting off—after all, so much had happened today.

He slept, but others in the city did not.

“I swear, I’ll kill him!” In a luxurious hospital room, Feng Tao lay on the bed, speaking through gritted teeth.

Long Nan Yao sighed as she looked at Feng Tao’s rage. “Tao, calm down! Losing your temper won’t solve anything. What we need to do now is figure out how to get the video back. Otherwise, how will I explain things to my father?”

Feng Tao composed himself. After Secretary Duan had informed Long Nan Yao’s father, the man hadn’t berated Feng Tao; instead, he instructed Secretary Duan to contact the hospital so Feng Tao could receive the best treatment. But he gave Feng Tao only twenty-four hours to retrieve the video.

What could Feng Tao do? He knew those thugs, but Yang Meng had sent them all to the hospital—their medical bills were waiting for him.

“Yao Yao, hand me my phone,” Feng Tao said.

Long Nan Yao gave him the phone. “Tao, what are you going to do?”

Feng Tao didn’t answer. He dialed a number. “Brother Cheng, it’s me.”

A cold chuckle sounded on the other end. “Feng Tao, I knew it was you—I was just about to call. What’s going on with Xiao He and the others? Why are they all in the hospital?”

Feng Tao laughed obsequiously. “Brother Cheng, that’s exactly why I’m calling.”

“Hmph!” Brother Cheng sneered. “Feng Tao, we go way back. But with so many injured, you know what needs to be done.”

Feng Tao glanced at Long Nan Yao and murmured his assent.

Go way back? Ha, more like a friendship with money. But with Long Nan Yao present, he kept that thought to himself.

Brother Cheng continued, “Alright, I know you’ll handle it. Now tell me what happened today.”

Feng Tao hurried to recount everything to Brother Cheng.

Brother Cheng was silent for a moment. “I’ll handle it. But Feng Tao, nothing comes for free. You understand.”

Feng Tao was taken aback. “Huh? Brother Cheng, aren’t you supposed to stand up for your own people? Your guys were injured too!”

“These days, everything’s about money. Without it, who’d bother?” Brother Cheng laughed.

Feng Tao gritted his teeth. “Fine, I know what to do. But Brother Cheng, he’s got a video...”

Before he could finish, Long Nan Yao snatched the phone and hung up.

“Yao Yao, what are you doing?” Feng Tao asked anxiously.

Long Nan Yao pointed to the phone. “You want the whole world to know about that video?”

Feng Tao shook his head and smiled bitterly. “Yao Yao, I’m out of options. Your father gave me just twenty-four hours! What am I supposed to do?”

Long Nan Yao took a deep breath and pulled out her own phone. “Forget it, let me handle this.”

“You? Yao Yao, what are you going to do?”

Long Nan Yao glanced at him, then dialed and cooed into the phone, “Brother, someone bullied me...”