In the darkness, that ghostly face grinned and suddenly blew a breath forward.

James Thompson felt a cold wind rush over him, as if even his soul had been frozen. He wanted to escape, but couldn't even manage the simple act of taking a step...

James Thompson realized that he had truly encountered a ghost.

Not the lowest kind of wandering spirit—this one was an evil ghost capable of manipulating yin energy to attack...

James Thompson couldn't control his body, watching helplessly as the ghost slowly approached, his heart filled with anxiety. Just then, he suddenly felt a warmth in his chest.

There was a paper talisman there, given to him by Emily Thompson, which James Thompson had kept close as she instructed.

A warm current from his chest surged into his body, driving away the chill inside him and allowing him to regain control over his body.

Without the slightest hesitation, James Thompson ran toward the county office at the fastest speed of his life.

The shadowy figure stood behind James Thompson, grinning as it said, "You can't escape..."

...

In the darkness, James Thompson fled desperately toward the county office.

Any ghost with even a bit of cultivation was not something an ordinary person could contend with. Ordinary people have seven souls to protect their bodies, so most ghosts don't dare approach—but he had nothing at all.

What's more, the ability to spit yin energy meant the ghost was at least a resentful spirit-level evil ghost. Having just stepped into the world of cultivation, James Thompson had no means to deal with it.

Even knowing he was no match, James Thompson still underestimated the ghost's power.

He had only run a dozen steps before he felt a chill all over again, unable to move a muscle.

The ghost drifted in front of him, speaking in a sinister tone: "So, I've run into someone without seven souls. Without seven souls, you won't live long anyway. Today, I'll devour your three spirits to further my cultivation..."

"Amitabha..."

As James Thompson struggled anxiously, a Buddhist chant suddenly sounded in his ear.

The sound of Zen entered his ears, and James Thompson suddenly found he had regained control over his body. He looked up ahead, and in the moonlight, a monk was approaching, holding a begging bowl in his left hand and a staff in his right.

James Thompson quickly ran to the monk's side. From the way the monk had just saved him, it was clear this monk was quite capable—certainly much stronger than himself.

When the ghost saw the monk, its face twisted with ferocity as it said coldly, "Where did this stray monk come from, daring to ruin my plans!"

The monk replied serenely, "Amitabha, this humble monk is Samuel Reed from Jinshan Temple—not a stray monk."

The name Jinshan Temple itself gave an inexplicable sense of security. In James Thompson's mind, an image of a white-robed monk chanting "Great Mighty Heavenly Dragon" appeared.

Just then, a gust of yin wind suddenly rose around them, the temperature plummeted, and the ghost's voice grew even more chilling: "I don't care if you're from Jinshan Temple or Yinshan Temple. If you ruin my plans today, I'll devour your soul as well!"

The yin wind made James Thompson stagger, but the monk stood firm, saying compassionately, "Humans have the human path, ghosts have the ghostly way. For your own cultivation, you steal human souls—this is not tolerated by the heavens and has already created karmic obstacles. Why not let this humble monk help you transcend, eliminate your karma, and move on to bliss..."

The ghost seemed to realize this monk was not to be trifled with. After a sharp scream, a cloud of black mist suddenly burst from its body, enveloping it. The black mist churned violently, spreading outward at great speed, and in the blink of an eye, James Thompson and the monk were shrouded within it.

However, when the black mist was about to touch them, it seemed to hit some barrier and could not advance any further.

The monk held the begging bowl in one hand and the staff in the other, saying with disappointment, "Do you really not want this humble monk to help you transcend?"

"Let's see if you have the ability!" came a sharp voice from within the black mist.

The monk sighed, handed the begging bowl to James Thompson, and said, "Young benefactor, could you keep this for me for a moment?"

The black mist churned violently. James Thompson had never seen such a scene before. His hard-won second chance at life now depended entirely on this monk.

He took the bowl without hesitation, but he had no idea what it was made of—it was much heavier than he expected. James Thompson almost dropped it, struggling to hold it up, nothing like the ease with which the monk had held it in one hand.

The monk gripped his staff, looked at the black mist, and asked one last time, "Let me ask you again—will you let this humble monk help you transcend?"

No sound came from within the black mist, but it churned even more violently. Claws formed from the mist reached out toward the monk and James Thompson.

The bowl in James Thompson's hands suddenly emitted a faint golden light, and any claw that touched it instantly dissolved.

James Thompson looked at the monk again, only to see that the compassionate look on his face was gone, replaced by frustration. Gripping his staff with both hands, he charged into the black mist.

Immediately, James Thompson heard a series of crashes and the monk's angry shouts from within the mist.

"If you won't drink the wine of respect, you'll drink the wine of punishment!"

"Old... this humble monk is being too nice to you, isn't he?"

"Ungrateful wretch!"

"You should go out and ask around about the name Samuel Reed. If I want to help you transcend, that's me giving you face. There are plenty of people begging me to help them, and I refuse. Don't be so ungrateful..."