I heard a heated argument from the neighboring ward and stopped, cautiously peeking through the door.

A man with his arm wrapped in bandages gestured wildly while trying to convince the others: “I swear—I really saw it! That mascot suit broke anyone’s limbs the moment it touched them. Then a little girl hit it, and *whoosh*—it deflated, collapsed to the ground. Just an empty shell. Nothing inside.”

Huh? Was I spotted?

“And the way she hit it—like movie CGI! Ugh, you really missed it. Believe me!”

I rubbed my nose awkwardly. Well… yeah. I *was* seen.

Hope he doesn’t remember my face too clearly.

The doctor nearby wiped sweat from his brow. “Rest first. Finish your IV. An infected wound might fog your mind…”

“No need! Just got bumped while running—minor dislocation. Not that serious!”

“Pervert! All you remember is that little girl!” His wife zeroed in, smacking his uninjured hand. “Is it ’cause she’s pretty?!”

“She *was* pretty and cute, but I’m telling the truth—ow! Honey, stop! It hurts!”

I shook my head silently. Couldn’t bear to watch. Explaining something like this to loved ones? Nearly impossible. Hope he pulls through.

Just then, a middle-aged man in a yellow Taoist robe, peach wood sword in hand, stepped over and patted the injured man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I believe you. In fact… I’m here for *this*.”

The doctor, nurses, the man’s wife and kids—all froze.

I froze too.

What the? Where’d *you* come from?

None of us—not the staff, not the family, not even me, the eavesdropper—had noticed him appear. Like he’d simply materialized beside us mid-conversation.

“Ah, sir,” the man intoned, “your face is shadowed, your arm bound—you’re haunted by a vengeful spirit. A blood disaster looms.”

The injured man lit up. “Hear that?! I *told* you! Honey, you wronged me!”

His wife rolled her eyes hard.

*Bullshit* “blood disaster.” You’re *in the hospital*, arm wrapped like a mummy—do you really need a “master” to tell you that?

“I’m Li Guanggui. May I ask your title, Master?”

The stranger twirled his sword with a flourish. “This humble one’s Dharma name is Zhengde. Mr. Li, such a spirit clings for a reason. You escaped this time… but the next danger may not be so kind.”

The man panicked. “Master Zhengde! What do I do?!”

“Stay calm. Fate brought us together. I can help. But spirit-subduing demands great effort. If Mr. Li might offer… incense money… to honor the ancestors… I shall resolve this ghost.”

I turned and left. No patience left.

“‘Zhengde’? More like *No Virtue*,” I muttered under my breath.

Total scam. I knew it. The man *would* be targeted—but only because the evil spirit kills indiscriminately. Zero “karmic ties.”

Most importantly: I’d already asked An Li. She confirmed—Taoist powers? Don’t exist. And that sanctimonious act? Textbook fraud.

“Scam away. You won’t escape either,” I hissed from my corner.

He’d just boasted about handling the spirit *in front of a survivor*. That’s indirect contact. The spirit *will* come for him. Thinking he can take the cash and vanish? No chance.

I won’t expose him. Self-sabotage needs no saving. And that man? Such a fool—believing this obvious lie.

Couldn’t he see his wife was about to faint from rage?

I crouched in the corner, pushing it from my mind.

I wasn’t here to debunk scams. I was lying in wait. With luck… I’d cross paths with that spirit.

“Ah!”

A scream from the West Wing jolted everyone in the corridor toward the windows.

But the West Wing hid behind several tall buildings. Nothing visible.

My tense (meow) legs carried me downstairs in a flash.

Yes, I came for the spirit—but I know my limits.

Small mascot suits? Fightable.

The main entity—the big one? I’d bolt. No hesitation.

——————