A wisp of black mist drifted in through the window, landing in front of Han Weiwei’s bed. Slowly, it took shape—becoming a ghost dressed in white, its face pale as death, and its tongue hanging long and limp.
Its eyes glowed green, eerie and terrifying. The ghost crawled up onto the bed and wrapped its cold, bony hands around Han Weiwei’s neck.
“Cough! Cough!”
Han Weiwei jolted awake from her sleep, choking violently. Her hands clawed desperately at the ghost’s grip, but the pressure only tightened around her throat.
“Help… me…”
She tried to scream, but her voice was trapped—choked off completely.
The moment the ghost had entered, Yin Dang had already sensed it. Quietly, he pushed open the bedroom door.
“By the boundless heavens and earth, by the laws of yin and yang—let the spirits
