On the day of the Ghost Festival, while making offerings to my ancestors, I accidentally wrote “Netherworld Ancestor” as the recipient. I never expected the spirit money to be signed for, but that night the ancestor himself showed up at my door. “No one has burned paper money for me in thirty million years. What a filial little girl.” I thought he had come to claim my life, but instead he tossed me a copy of the Official Handbook of the Underworld. “From now on, you're my direct disciple and my representative in the human world.” It wasn't until I opened the first page that I saw the condition: “Catch one hundred thousand evil ghosts during your probation, or be conscripted into my army of underworld soldiers.”
