My Yang Energy Is Too Strong, and My Frail Employer Begs Me to Cuddle

Shen Changming is an oddball in the world of mysticism. While others exorcise ghosts with yellow talismans and incantations, he relies on his pure yang muscles and beats them into the afterlife.

His exorcisms are so violent that no one hires him, and drowning in debt, he anonymously posts online: [How do I tone down my excess yang energy? I want to be an elegant celestial master.]

A helpful netizen named [Abyss] replies: [You're such a wimp. Every night at midnight, put on weighted gear and run laps around a mass grave. Your yang energy will dissipate on its own.]

Shen Changming does as told. His yang energy doesn't dissipate, but his abs get even harder.

To make money fast, he takes a side job cleaning the warehouse for Lou Qi, an antiques dealer who uses a wheelchair and is rumored not to live past thirty.

Looking at Lou Qi's pale, cold, frail appearance, Shen Changming asks with eager curiosity, "Boss, do you think my yang energy has weakened a little?"

Lou Qi rests his long, slender fingers against Shen Changming's burning waist and abdomen, feeling the vigorous heat. His Adam's apple bobs, and his voice turns hoarse. "Mm, very weak. One push and you'll fall over."

Then, one day, the gates of the underworld swing open, and ten thousand ghosts bow in submission.

The frail boss rises from his wheelchair, and cold black mist coils around Shen Changming's ankles like chains. "Didn't you want to make a fortune? Marry me in a ghost wedding, and I'll give you the entire underworld."

Seeing the [Abyss] account glowing on his boss's phone, Shen Changming falls into deep thought.