At the mouth of an alley, the ashes of spirit money always drift through the air at three in the morning. Zhang Jiuling clutches the yellowed notebook his grandfather left him, and for the third time, sees a shadow in the mirror that does not belong to him.
He used to work the night shift as a security guard at a funeral home. Then one day, as he was collecting a corpse, the dead man suddenly opened his eyes, grabbed his wrist, and spat out half a bloodstained copper coin. "Your Yin-Yang eyes are open. This is your trade now, whether you want it or not."
From then on, strange things plagued him. The corpses in the morgue kept changing poses at midnight. The woman in red at the crossroads kept asking him for a light. Even the black cat in his neighborhood could scratch a death curse into the ground with its claws.
The cinnabar spells in the notebook could subdue the walking dead, but they could not subdue the evil in people's hearts. When he discovered that his grandfather's death was tied to a thirty-year-old debt to the underworld, and those around him were drawn one by one into the rift between Yin and Yang, Zhang Jiuling finally understood. A Yin-Yang master was merely a pitiable soul who sought justice for the dead in the world of the living and a way out for the living in the underworld.
What he did not know was that he had long since become the most crucial piece in a game spanning both worlds.
Still, it was a good thing he met a recorder of the dead...
