“It’s fine, just catching a Ghost King—easy as play! You can wear anything you like!” Jiang Tian quickly reassured his wife in a gentle voice.
The next moment, his gaze turned icy as he looked at Yang Guochang and smirked, “Going to Mars isn’t that impressive. I’ve actually been there!”
Jiang Tian was usually indifferent to others’ opinions, but he couldn’t stand seeing Zhao Xueqing humiliated. With a cold snort, he declared, “If I slay that vengeful ghost today, Yang Guochang, you’ll kneel and apologize to my wife!”
The crowd stared at him in stunned silence, as if he were a madman. After a long pause, they burst into uproarious laughter.
“Definitely an alien—go back to Mars! Earth is too dangerous for you!”
“All talk! How dare you challenge Master Yang? Ignorance truly knows no fear!”
“My master bowing to this alien? Don’t choke on your words!” a Maoshan disciple mocked.
Tang Wannian and his group looked awkward.
Zhou Zhenghao, Jiang Tian’s staunch supporter, couldn’t take it anymore. He shot to his feet and roared, “Shut up! None of you know Master Jiang’s true power—he’s a grandmaster of martial arts!”
“What? He’s a martial arts grandmaster?!”
A few people in the room reacted with shock and disbelief.
Yang Guochang scoffed, unimpressed.
“Even if he were a grandmaster, exorcising ghosts falls under the domain of sorcery. No matter how skilled he is in martial arts, it’s useless here!”
“Exactly, what use is a martial artist against ghosts?”
“You actually believe his nonsense? When have you ever seen a grandmaster in his twenties? Blatant lies—utterly ridiculous!”
“Ha! You’ve got no business here. Get out!”
Many Maoshan disciples laughed, refusing to believe Jiang Tian had any real ability. Some even tried to drive him away.
“With your skills, Yang Guochang, you couldn’t even scratch that Ghost King,” Jiang Tian remarked lazily, crossing his legs. “I suggest you leave now—unless you’ve got a death wish.”
The room fell dead silent. Many gasped at his audacity.
How dare he insult Master Yang like this? If even Yang can’t handle it, what makes him think he can?
“Pfft—!”
A young woman seated behind Zheng Guangsha suddenly burst into laughter.
“Xiao Li, what’s so funny?” Zheng Guangsha frowned, displeased.
Zheng Li, a distant niece, had been taken under his wing after a failed relationship left her estranged from her family. Sharp and capable, she’d quickly risen to a mid-level position in Guangsha Group.
She never makes mistakes—why laugh now?
Jiang Tian glanced over and nearly laughed himself.
What a coincidence—Zheng Li, his old college classmate.
Zheng Li gave Jiang Tian a knowing look. “Uncle, he was my college classmate. I know him well. He was a slacker back then, and now he’s just a PR guy at Zhao Pharmaceuticals—good at drinking, sure, but a martial arts grandmaster? Please.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but in the silence, everyone heard her clearly.
“What a farce!” Zheng Guangsha slapped his thigh, shooting Jiang Tian a disdainful glare.
This fraud dares to disrespect Master Yang? If Yang walks out now, this whole deal is ruined.
At his level, Zheng rubbed shoulders with mayors and party secretaries. If Old Master Tang himself were here, he’d show respect—but not to Tang Wannian’s friends.
This exorcism involved the fate of the billion-dollar Wolong Mountain Villa.
And Tang Wannian brings a small-time PR guy as a ‘master’? Disgraceful.
“Master Yang, Master Jiang is my honored guest. Please, for my sake—”
Caught between them, Tang Wannian forced a smile, trying to placate both sides.
Yang Guochang sneered. “A mere ant like him isn’t worth my attention.”
Despite his words, irritation flickered in his eyes. He pointed at Jiang Tian.
“Boy, today I’ll show you the true power of Maoshan’s ghost-subduing arts!”
With that, he shouted, “Bring the glutinous rice powder and paste!”
The “Miscellaneous Records of the Western Capital” mentions Empress Lü using glutinous rice cakes to ward off evil—a practice dating back to the Han Dynasty.
Ancient tombs even used glutinous rice mortar to seal in corpse energy.
Following Yang’s instructions, a disciple scattered rice powder across the hall, leaving only a narrow path between Tang Wannian and Yang.
Another brought a bucket of white rice paste. Yang took it, muttered an apology to Tang, and dumped it over his head.
“My God! What is that?!”
Screams erupted. People scrambled behind bodyguards, trembling in terror.
As the paste dripped down, a ghostly child clinging to Tang’s shoulders became visible.
It was an emaciated infant, its head grotesquely large, its body skeletal. Naked and covered in white paste, it looked even more ghastly under the chandelier’s light.
“Ah! What is that?!” Zhao Xueqing gripped Jiang Tian’s hand, her face pale.
“That’s the dead child,” Jiang Tian murmured, soothing her. “Don’t worry. With me here, it can’t harm you.”
Even the bodyguards—trained ex-soldiers and martial artists—turned pale, unsure whether to flee or stay.
“Master Yang, save me!” Tang Wannian begged, shaking uncontrollably as he glimpsed the ghost in the window’s reflection.
The infant ghost, irritated by the rice paste, snarled at the crowd.
“Hmph! A puny ghost with barely a few years of cultivation—nothing to fear!” Yang Guochang remained calm, his composure making him seem even more formidable.
He produced a black pottery jar, its surface etched with eerie, blood-red symbols. The jar’s aged patina hinted at centuries of use—clearly no ordinary artifact.
“Little one, it’s time to move on. Come.”
He chanted an arcane spell, his voice hypnotic.
To everyone’s shock, the ghost obediently climbed down from Tang, wobbled along the rice-powder path, and leaped toward Yang. In a swirl of black smoke, it vanished into the jar.
Snap!
Yang sealed the lid and smirked. “Everyone, relax. The ghost is captured—no more trouble.”
“A true master!”
“Master Yang’s power is unmatched! To subdue evil with a flick of the wrist—divine!”
The wealthy elites, wiping sweat from their brows, showered him with praise.
“Master Yang, you’ve saved my life! Here—”
Tang Wannian gestured, and an aide presented a bank card.
“Five million as promised. Please accept it.”
Yang pocketed it without a second thought. With a net worth in the hundreds of millions, this was pocket change.
“Master Yang’s sorcery defies heaven and earth! We bow to your prowess!”
Even the feng shui master and paper-offering specialist kowtowed, awestruck. Their petty tricks paled in comparison.
Yang basked in the admiration. “A trivial feat. But since I’m here, I’ll destroy this ghost completely—ensuring no future hauntings.”
“Eternal gratitude, Master Yang!” Tang Wannian bowed deeply.
“With the ghost annihilated, no evil will dare approach Third Master again!” Zheng Guangsha praised.
The crowd buzzed with excitement, their fear replaced by exhilaration.
“Yang Guochang, quit while you’re ahead. Don’t push your luck.”
Jiang Tian’s cold voice cut through the chatter.
“What?!”
“Jiang Tian, how dare you interrupt Master Yang’s ritual? Get out!”
“Master Yang’s power shakes the heavens! Who are you to speak, you worthless fraud?”
Jiang Tian popped a grape into his mouth, unfazed.
“That child isn’t the only ghost here. There’s a far stronger one—beyond your control. If you insist on provoking it, don’t blame me when you die.”
The crowd erupted in fury, ready to tear him apart.
