On his way to deliver food, Li Mingyuan was hit by a strange red embroidered ball and was forced to open his third eye. From then on, his delivery addresses included, but weren’t limited to, funeral homes in the dead of night, remote mass graves, and haunted-house basements. At first, the flippant Zhao Dabao laughed uproariously. “You must be dreaming, kid!”
Until one day, his game interface suddenly switched to a first-person view. On the screen, a deathly pale ghost hand was slowly reaching for Li Mingyuan’s shoulder.
The next day, Zhao Dabao showed up with his family’s ancestral peachwood sword and volunteered to join him. “We split everything fifty-fifty. You in?”
Their business soon expanded, and the two quickly landed a lucrative commission from a “ghost matchmaker,” only to discover...
The sinister embroidered ball that had first struck Li Mingyuan was sitting right in the center of the altar.
