That number alone was enough to make a grown deity weep.
Back when he'd first taken the post? had been living.
The Longjiang Tudi Gong Temple had been drowning in incense smoke. Worshippers had lined up daily. Offerings had piled into small mountains—chicken, duck, fish, pork, fruits, pastries. And the key ingredient: genuine devotion.
He'd commanded over thirty subordinates. Every one of them elite. Even Arhats and Venerable Ones from the Heavenly Court had had to kiss his ring if they'd wanted some grassroots experience on their celestial résumés.
His daily routine? Feet up. Stamp some documents. Maybe settle a petty neighborhood dispute if he'd felt like it. had been the life a deity was supposed to live.
And now? Humans didn't buy this stuff anymore.
Sure, the incense sticks got fatter. The offerings more extravagant. But here was the thing about divine transactions—no sincerity, no transfer.
Meanwhile, mortal wishes had inflated beyond reason. The gods were drowning in demand they couldn't meet.
Revenue down. Workload up. His temple was bleeding red ink.
Budget cuts came next. Thirty-plus staff, slashed to five. And what a sorry crew they were—either incompetent or attitude problems across the board.
Two years ago, even his accountant of two centuries couldn't take it anymore. The weary shade had looked him dead in the eyes and said:
Then he'd reincarnated. Sent a dream last month. Said he was a programmer now. 996 work schedule. About to drop dead from overwork.
someone had asked.
Dax had replied, nursing his drink.
So here he was. Jiang Dax. Dignified Local Earth God. Living worse than the minor ghosts who used to fetch his tea.
Everything was hands-on these days. Tonight's tip about a serial body-snatcher? Shouldn't even have been his level of case. But all his people were deployed elsewhere. He had to come himself.
He'd expected a routine possession bust. Instead? He'd witnessed a spectacular round of ghost-eat-ghost.
But when he tried to read the shameless female ghost's origin—he froze.
Her aura… not just garbage dump stench. There was something else. Something…
Dax grabbed the man Ling was possessing by the collar. "Talk. Where are you from?"
Ling didn't want complications. She tried the innocent act: "I… I'm just a wandering spirit passing through! I saw an injustice and stepped in to right the wrong! Consider it my good deed for the day… I'll leave this body right away—"
"Wandering spirit? " Dax threw his head back and laughed. It had been since he'd met such a bullshitter.
Mid-laugh, something burned him. He looked down. The pocket watch in his jacket was He flipped it open—this piece of "dead iron" his old friend had left him. Silent for decades in his possession. Now the hands were spinning so fast they might fly off.
"…"
Dax looked up at Ling. Down at the watch. Up at Ling.
""
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
He murmured to himself: "A live specimen crawled out of the Abyss… no wonder Old Li's watch is reacting."
A slow smile spread across his face. "This isn't a battery. This is 'nuclear fuel.
He crouched down. His gaze cut across Ling's brow like a blade. His nose twitched.
"Ordinary strays smell like spoiled water and dirt. But you…" Dax's expression shifted—disgust and surprise mingling. "…You of that tar from the bottom of the Turbid Abyss. The kind that won't wash off."
The mask on Ling's face went rigid.
"That dead-silent stench. Billions of tons of negative emotion, stewed until it's so thick light can't get through…" Dax stared at her. "How long were you down there? The smell's marinated into your soul. Set off my old watch from three blocks away."
Ling stopped trembling. She straightened slowly. The pitiful look vanished from her eyes. What replaced it was something cold. Something sharp.
"Since you've sniffed it out—" Her voice went flat. A black, tar-like aura began seeping from her form. Coiling. Ready. Like a bear trap about to snap. "—let's do this."
Ling never liked making the first move. She preferred prey that walked into the trap themselves.
"What's your name?"
To her surprise, Dax didn't attack. Just asked an out-of-nowhere question.
"…Ling."
"No surname?"
"Picked-up name. No surname."
Dax was silent for a moment. He tucked the scalding watch back into his pocket.
"You got lucky just now," he said. "Those two Purifiers of the Hungry Ghost Realm were slackers. Didn't have 'Shell-Breakers' on 'em. Couldn't drag you back out."
He extended one hand. A soft golden glow emanated from his palm. Divine power. Bestowed by Heavenly Court commission. To ordinary ghosts, this was inviolable law.
"But I'm different." His eyes were cold. "In my territory? Pulling you out of that body is easier than peeling an egg."
Beat.
""
Ling said nothing. Just watched him monologue through narrowed eyes.
"But—" Dax withdrew the light. "I've changed my mind."
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"I need an assistant." He patted his pocket. "Got an old antique that's been broken for ages. Needs a special 'battery' to start up." His gaze swept over her. "The energy in you… fits the bill."
"…"
"Fine." Unexpectedly, Ling's tone softened. "I know when I'm beat. Pull me out if you want. I'll come with you."
Dax raised an eyebrow. But he confidently reached out anyway.
The moment his golden light touched the human body—Ling moved.
Freed from the "tight shell", her true form unfurled into the mortal air. A mass of black, semi-transparent light. Blurry at the edges. Far more solid
But what made Dax's pupils contract—was the black vortex
Not imitation. Not diluted. Pure. Primordial.
If he hadn't witnessed so many bizarre things alongside his eccentric old friend, he wouldn't have recognized it at all.
No time to think. The power was already hurtling toward him. He instinctively summoned his golden barrier.
BOOM.
Gold light and black vortex collided head-on. Dax felt like he'd been hit by a semi-truck. His feet carved two deep furrows into the ground. His back slammed into the wall at the end of the alley. Brick dust rained down. The air in the entire alley seemed to —then rushed back in a terrifying surge. Streetlights exploded.
Dax's golden barrier had held. His internal organs were still shaking. A wild stray from god-knows-where had just injured him. A 500-year-old Tudi Gong, the Local Earth God.
He slowly straightened, staring at the light-form reforming across from him.
What he didn't know: she was even more shocked than he was.
At the very instant she'd been about to unleash that strike— A terror she'd never experienced before. Piercing straight through her soul. Not pain. More like…
Little Ear vibrated frantically:
WARNING: Environmental pressure critically low… WARNING: Core expanding… external constraint at zero… WARNING: High-energy reaction! Yang essence conflict! DETONATION COUNTDOWN: 0.1 seconds…
She'd spent too long at the bottom of that pressure cooker. Her soul density had become terrifying.I'll explode first.
The thought flashed like lightning. That annihilating force she'd gathered—if she forced it out, her own soul-core would lose pressure containment. She'd detonate in the mortal world like a spectacular firework. Not even ash left.
In 0.001 seconds of life-or-death crisis, Ling demonstrated terrifying control.
She roared from the depths of her soul. Forcibly cut off 99% of the energy stream that had already reached her fingertips. The kind of reverse backlash that would drive any spirit insane. Like a semi-truck barreling at 300 miles per hour—slamming to a stop within an inch.
The yang essence she'd chugged earlier raged through her like magma. And that remaining 1%? The "exhaust fumes" she couldn't pull back in time? Still blasted out through sheer inertia.
Even just 1%
The strike-and-recall had nearly drained her completely. She was weak as a guttering candle now. Barely floating. On the verge of collapse. But she still forced herself into a stance.
Dax was silent for a long time. If he'd known she'd been straining to not blow herself up—one wondered what the Tudi Gong would have thought.
"Chaos Force." His voice was hoarse. "You're a wild stray from a garbage dump. How do you have something like this?"
Ling didn't answer. She was experiencing the first Waterloo of her ghost-life. at herself.
Dax stared at her. Mind racing. A soul carrying this kind of energy… there was only one possibility—