Chapter 31: Do you want to make a wish?

I was stunned. I had expected a true immortal, or perhaps a horrifying vengeful spirit—but behind me stood a weasel, looking almost cute.

I was about to speak, but suddenly the world spun, and it felt as if my soul was being sucked into those two blood-red eyes. My body moved without my control.

“Don’t look back! Don’t try to see the Pen Spirit!” Mo Qingyan’s sharp command snapped me back, just in time to avoid falling under the weasel’s pull. I quickly turned away, not daring to glance at the weasel.

Honestly, compared to the two ghastly spirits in front of us, the weasel looked far less terrifying. Though the soul-pulling had made my hair stand on end, just seeing a weasel behind me gave me some small comfort.

Once everyone had settled, the Pen Spirit ritual continued. It was now Mo Qingyan’s turn to ask a question. After some thought, she asked directly, “If I burn each of you ten thousand units of paper gold, will you help me kill the Painted Skin Ghost outside?”

I was slightly surprised. Usually, ghost money comes in figures of hundreds of millions, even billions. Mo Qingyan was only offering ten thousand—wasn’t that a little stingy?

Then I remembered the paper offerings Xiaoqing had burned during the ancestor rites yesterday. And Mo Qingyan said “paper gold,” not paper money. This wasn’t just buying ghost currency—the paper gold must be a more valuable type of ritual offering.

Her straightforward question caused the two ghosts to hesitate. The suspended girl reached for the pencil first. But this time, she didn’t scribble aimlessly—she wrote neat, precise characters on the paper.

The handwriting looked delicate, like a schoolgirl’s, but written in pencil it resembled coagulated blood stains.

“You want to make a vow?” read the words left by the suspended girl. I wanted to ask what it meant, but remembered Mo Qingyan’s warning: no answering the Pen Spirit’s questions ourselves. I stayed silent.

Mo Qingyan shook her head immediately. “This isn’t a vow. It’s a transaction. I burn the gold; you help me. Fair trade, no debts afterward.”

Her response was airtight. I also understood the rule: never casually agree to a Pen Spirit’s request. Agreeing to a “vow” would bind us, and the spirit would certainly harass us later. She firmly refused and emphasized it was a transaction.

The girl’s face remained hidden behind her long hair, so I couldn’t read her expression. From her previous attempts to cause trouble, I knew she was cunning.

Then the inverted middle-aged man reached for the pencil and began writing. His handwriting was sloppy, like an untrained peasant, and in traditional Chinese characters.

“Need more money, paper gold useless,” read his words. A simple haggling, more honest than the girl’s words.

“Fine, I’ll invite a master to perform a ritual for you, to help your spirits reincarnate. How about that?” Mo Qingyan offered a new price.

Both ghosts grabbed the pencil again, trying to seize control. Just as they were about to write, I suddenly felt the same chilling sensation from behind. My hand moved involuntarily, holding the pencil.

Neither ghost could stop me. They even let go when they realized I was controlling the pencil. I had a sense that among the three Pen Spirits, the weasel was the most powerful, or at least the one with the highest status.

The other two had to physically write, even struggled to control the pencil, but the weasel never touched it—it guided me to write. Clearly, it was far more skillful.

“Blood,” the weasel wrote through my hand. Mo Qingyan was startled. “The Pen Spirit wants blood? Fine… but how much?”

She then said to us, “Once this is over, the three of us will each take a little blood. It’s fine.”

My hand moved again, but this time I didn’t answer how much blood. I drew an arrow pointing to myself.

“You mean… just from Xiao Xiao?” Mo Qingyan frowned. Asking specifically for one person’s blood was unusual. If it required all of mine to satisfy the three Pen Spirits, I might not survive.

At that moment, a loud, continuous banging shook the floor, coming from the door we had entered through.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!” The blows were violent and urgent, as if someone was smashing the door desperately. Mo Qingyan quickly waved her free hand over the water basin. The surface rippled, showing the view outside.

The Painted Skin Ghost was pounding the door. Its face, identical to mine, was twisted with rage. Its hands battered the walls, bleeding, yet it seemed unfazed by pain, hammering relentlessly.

“Not good! It actually found a way in! It’s trying to force its way through!” Mo Qingyan’s tone grew tense. She turned to me. “Xiao Xiao, agree to it! A transaction won’t directly cost a life!”

I hesitated. Agreeing didn’t guarantee the deal would be favorable—it could still leave me in terrible pain or debt. But if it only wanted blood… maybe…

“Boom!” The door of the Supernatural Affairs Department was kicked open. The twisted-faced Painted Skin Ghost stormed in, its eyes full of hatred and greed fixed on me.

I panicked, wanting to run, but my body wouldn’t move, seemingly controlled by the weasel. Mo Qingyan shouted, “Don’t run! The Pen Spirit’s ritual cannot be abandoned! Agree to it!”

Seeing the Painted Skin Ghost charging at me, I yelled, “I agree!”

At that moment, the ghost leapt toward me. The inverted male ghost vanished. In the next instant, the Painted Skin Ghost was trapped inside a suddenly-appearing cement pillar, covered with red-and-white talisman papers.