The Invisible Ghost Summoner

The scene opens on a quiet roadside under the light of a full moon, casting an ethereal glow on an ancient, traditional Chinese setting. The roadside is desolate, shrouded in an eerie stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the cool night breeze. At the corner, a modest chicken skewer stall stands—crafted from weathered wood, its surface worn smooth by years of use. The faint aroma of grilled chicken lingers in the air, though no customers are in sight.

Behind the stall, Uncle Chén, a man in his sixties, sits hunched on a small wooden stool. His face, weathered and lined, reflects a lifetime of quiet endurance. He holds a simple fan in one hand, swatting absentmindedly at the persistent mosquitoes that hum around him. Occasionally, he hums a fragmented melody, his voice low and gruff, as though trying to ward off the oppressive silence. His eyes lift to the full moon, his gaze steady yet contemplative. Despite the quiet night, a faint smile flickers on his lips—his demeanor unshaken, as though he is waiting for the inevitable arrival of his frequent visitor.

The roadside remained cloaked in silence, broken only by the rhythmic creak of Uncle Chén's wooden stool as he shifted his weight. Still fanning away the relentless mosquitoes, his eyes briefly closed as he hummed a fragmented tune, his voice low and raspy. The cold tightened its grip, more biting than any night before, prompting him to wrap his thin coat closer around his frame. The chill brought a strange unease, though he dared not voice it.

From the far end of the road, a figure appeared. A young woman, her pale complexion luminous under the moonlight, moved with quiet elegance. Her long black hair framed a serene yet unsettling face, while her torn white dress, smeared with streaks of dried crimson, flowed around her feet as she walked. The faint aroma of Plumeria clung to her presence, drifting faintly ahead of her steps. She moved without sound, her pace steady and deliberate, as if the night itself parted to make way for her.

The moon hung low over the deserted roadside, casting a cold, silver light on the path. The air was still, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. Four men emerged from the shadows; their traditional guard attire dusty from travel. Their leader, Zhào Shù, led the way with a confident stride, his sharp eyes scanning the road ahead. Behind him, Liáng Kě cracked a crude joke, his voice grating against the silence, while Fáng Míng and Cháng Guāng trudged along, exchanging wary glances.

Zhào Shù halted abruptly, his gaze locking on a figure ahead. The woman's pale silhouette stood out against the dark foliage, her white dress trailing along the ground, smeared with streaks of blood. A strong scent of Plumeria flowers seemed to waft toward them, unnatural and out of place. Without a word, Zhào Shù shot a pointed glance at his companions, his intent clear. Fáng Míng hesitated, then gave a small nod. Liáng Kě grinned wickedly, while Cháng Guāng swallowed hard, his unease palpable.

As they neared, Zhào Shù broke the silence, his voice smooth but edged with false concern. "Miss, you look as though you've endured something terrible. Are you hurt?"

The young lady raised her head slowly, her face illuminated by the moonlight. Her expression was soft, almost fragile, and her voice trembled as she replied, "I… I feel pain all over my body. I was playing near the city gate earlier when… when some men began chasing me. I fell and fainted. When I woke up, it was already night."

Zhào Shù nodded, feigning sympathy. "It's dangerous to be out here alone, especially on such a quiet road. You never know who you might encounter."

The woman's eyes widened slightly, her hands clutching her torn dress. "Yes… I was afraid of that," she murmured, her voice barely audible, "but I had no choice. I need to get home."

Liáng Kě stepped forward, his tone overly casual. "Well, miss, it's your lucky night. The four of us are here. We could escort you safely. What do you say?"

The young lady hesitated, glancing at each of them in turn. Finally, she gave a small nod. "I would be grateful… if you brothers could help me."

Meanwhile, at his stall, Uncle Chén sniffed the air, his brow furrowing. He froze for a moment, then sprang into action, his movements brisk and deliberate. He grabbed a skewer of chicken, arranged the charcoal, and began fanning the flames with a worn, bamboo fan. His hands trembled slightly as he worked, his eyes darting toward the figures in the distance. Though silent, his hurried actions betrayed an unspoken fear, as if he understood the ominous shift in the air but dared not interfere.

The moonlight bathed the quiet roadside, casting long shadows over the ancient cobblestones. Uncle Chén's chicken skewer stall stood ahead, its faint glow flickering in the night air. As the mysterious young lady and the four thugs reached the stall, the atmosphere grew thicker with tension. The men's footsteps were heavy, but the young lady walked with an eerie, graceful calm, her bloodstained white dress brushing against the ground.

Fáng Míng leaned in toward Liáng Kě, whispering with a smirk, "Uncle Chén knows Zhào Shù will need food soon." Liáng Kě chuckled softly but was quickly silenced by Fáng Míng's warning finger. "Keep it down," he muttered, glancing nervously at the lady. Cháng Guāng shivered, his eyes darting around, unsettled by the silence.

Zhào Shù walked slightly ahead, his hand resting casually on the sword hilt, scanning the surroundings with feigned nonchalance.

Behind the stall, Uncle Chén silently turned the skewers over the fire, his face pale, trembling slightly. His eyes never lifted as the group passed by.

Under the full moon, the ancient roadside lay silent, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the wind. A forgotten villa loomed at the corner, its overgrown plants and creaky front gate evidence of years of neglect. The smell of Plumeria flowers seemed to precede the arrival of the young lady, her torn white dress stained with blood, her pale skin nearly glowing in the moonlight.

As she paused before the villa, her voice broke the silence, low and haunting as she spoke to Zhào Shù.

"The Yán Jiàoyáng family... wiped out in one night," she murmured. "Only his wife and the old servant survived. His body was found in the forest, but the others, from the baby to the elderly, were dead inside. The house was full of blood... and signs of a struggle."

Zhào Shù pretended to show concern, his gaze flickering over her. "If I'd been there, Miss, I would have protected you. No one would harm you, not while I'm around."

He leaned closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if to reassure her with empty words, while his eyes betrayed his true intentions. The moonlight cast strange shadows on his face, making him look almost predatory.

Meanwhile, his men exchanged uneasy glances. Fáng Míng whispered to Liáng Kě, "This place feels wrong... too quiet." Cháng Guāng, nervous, darted his eyes around, as if expecting something to emerge from the darkness.

The villa stood there, abandoned, as if waiting.

The air around Zhào Shù thickened as the young lady stepped closer, her presence both calming and unnerving. He could not shake the feeling that something was not right, but he couldn't quite place why. Her eyes, though soft, seemed to pierce through him, and her voice, when it came, was like the cold touch of a winter breeze.

"Does brother know about that night?" Her words, seemingly innocent, carried a heavy, unspoken weight that made Zhào Shù's heart skip a beat. He could feel his discomfort rise like an invisible pressure.

He hesitated, his mind racing. He had been away during that time, but the feeling of her gaze made him feel exposed. "I was out of town at that time," he replied, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

The young lady didn't flinch, her gaze unwavering, as though she were seeing through him. "What if I was among those killed? Would you feel anything?"

Zhào Shù stammered, his thoughts momentarily frozen. He wasn't sure how to answer, but something deep within him urged him to protect her. "I would protect you with my life. I would never let something like that happen to you."

Her lips curled into a faint smile, almost mocking. "Do you really know? Or are you just pretending?"

Zhào Shù, trying to regain his composure, looked her in the eyes and spoke with newfound resolve. "I am serious. I would protect you with my life."

For a moment, there was silence. The young lady's smile remained, but it wasn't one of reassurance. It was as if she were testing him, probing him to see how far he would go in his attempt to prove his sincerity.

Zhào Shù, still unnerved by her presence, broke the silence with a question of his own. "Where is your house, by the way, Miss?" His voice was steady, but the tension in the air made the question feel heavier than it should have been.

Zhào Shù glanced around, his gaze narrowing as he watched his two men. Fáng Míng's face was pale, sweat dripping down his brow, while Liáng Kě stood stiff, his nervous energy clearly visible. Cháng Guāng, though trying to appear unaffected, was fidgeting, his body trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion.

Fáng Míng was the first to break. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Cháng Guāng staggered backward, gasping for breath, his face drained of color. "I need to... I need to go," he muttered, his voice trembling. His words barely left his lips before his body collapsed in shock.

Liáng Kě's face twisted with fear as he pointed a shaky finger at Zhào Shù. His voice cracked, but no words came out. It was as if the full horror of the situation had finally dawned on him, and he too lost control, collapsing into a heap beside his fallen comrades.

Zhào Shù stood frozen, unable to process the chaos that had unfolded around him. His men were sprawled on the ground, unconscious and eerily still. The unnatural silence that followed felt suffocating, and his mind raced to make sense of it all. How could this have happened so quickly? What had caused this sudden collapse of his men? He looked at their fallen bodies in disbelief, the pieces of the puzzle scattered but not yet fitting together.

Zhào Shù's chest heaved as he took a shaky breath, his eyes darting between the lifeless forms of his men. Fáng Míng, Liáng Kě, and Cháng Guāng—each lay sprawled on the cold ground, their expressions frozen in terror. He swallowed hard, a chill creeping up his spine. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

He turned back toward the young lady, his voice faltering. "What... what did you do?"

But she was gone.

The spot where she had stood just moments ago was now empty, as if she had never been there. Zhào Shù's throat tightened, and his pulse quickened. The oppressive silence around him deepened, wrapping him in an invisible shroud of unease. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs felt like lead.

A faint rustle broke the stillness. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he turned back toward the empty road ahead. And there she was—no longer the serene young lady he had spoken to but something else entirely.

Her pale skin glowed faintly in the moonlight, and her long black hair billowed unnaturally around her as if caught in an invisible wind. Her eyes burned with an ominous red light, and her once-pristine white dress was now soaked in dark, dripping stains. Zhào Shù's breath hitched as his gaze traveled downward. Her back... her back was hollow, a gaping hole that seemed to pulsate with a life of its own, an abyss of darkness that defied reason.

His knees buckled, and he stumbled backward, falling to the ground. "No... no, this can't be real," he stammered, his voice barely audible. His hands clawed at the dirt beneath him as though searching for an anchor to reality.

The ghost tilted her head, her lips curling into a smile that was both haunting and cruel. Her laughter rang out, sharp and high-pitched, slicing through the night like a blade. It wasn't the laughter of joy but of malice—a sound that sent a shiver through his very soul.

"Does brother not recognize me anymore?" Her voice was soft but carried the weight of something ancient, something deeply vengeful.

Zhào Shù opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He wanted to deny it, to say something that would dispel the reality before him, but the fear had taken hold of him, paralyzing his tongue.

The ghost took a step forward, her movements unnaturally fluid. Her presence seemed to grow heavier with each step, as though the air itself bent around her. "Do you not remember?" she said, her tone laced with a mockery that only deepened his terror. "You promised me you would rather die than let anything happen to me."

"I... I d-didn't... I..." Zhào Shù's voice cracked, his words fumbling over one another. "I was out of town that day... I swear!"

Her smile widened, revealing unnaturally sharp teeth. "Handsome Brother, do you really know nothing about that night?"

The scent of plumeria flowers wafted through the air, but it was tainted now, intermingled with the acrid stench of decay. Zhào Shù recoiled, his trembling body pressing against the ground as she drew closer.

"I... I don't know," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his face pale as death.

The ghost's head tilted again, her expression one of amused disbelief. "Do you not?" she asked, her voice rising slightly, the malice in her tone growing sharper. "Surely you must remember something."

Zhào Shù's mind raced, grasping for anything that might appease her. Finally, his voice, though trembling and barely above a whisper, found an answer. "Maybe... maybe my old master knew something," he stuttered. "The day before the tragedy... he moved his entire family and assets in a hurry. His face was pale... He wouldn't tell anyone why. When his family asked questions, he got angry—angry like I'd never seen before. He told them to leave... immediately."

The ghost stilled, her glowing red eyes narrowing as if weighing his words. Then, unexpectedly, her lips curved into a smile—a smile that was far too wide, far too pleased. "Thank you, Brother. Sister Ān'nà will stay with you for the rest of the night. We will make a good couple."

Her words sent a fresh wave of terror through him. Zhào Shù shook his head violently, his body trembling uncontrollably. As she floated closer, her hollow back and crimson eyes dominating his vision, the fear overwhelmed him entirely. His vision darkened, and with a final shudder, he collapsed into unconsciousness, the ghost's high-pitched laughter echoing in the night.

After Zhào Shù collapsed in fear, Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà stood motionless, her long black hair suddenly standing on end, as if struck by a massive bolt of lightning. A strange, invisible force seemed to crackle around her, drawing the life energy from the four unconscious thugs. The process was swift, a silent siphoning of vitality that left her body glowing faintly with an eerie power.

Once the absorption was complete, Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà's lips curled into a satisfied smile. Her long tongue flicked out, tasting the remnants of the life energy, she had consumed. She reveled in it, her eyes gleaming with a dark pleasure. The four men would not die from this, but they would be left shaken, their vitality drained. For a time, they would be plagued by fear, and their energies would remain weak, requiring meditation, mindfulness, and ample nourishment to recover.

Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà savored the moment, feeling the power settle deep within her. It was a hunger that never fully satisfied but always left her wanting more.

Under the eerie moonlight, soon after that, Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà's form slowly shifted, her ghostly features retracting as her body reshaped into her human guise. Her pale skin remained the same, her long black hair flowing like liquid night around her shoulders, but the haunting hollow in her back closed, and the bloodstains on her white dress faded into something more presentable—almost too perfect, like a noblewoman out for an evening stroll. Her red eyes softened as she surveyed the fainted bodies of Zhào Shù and his men. Her lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile before she turned away, her scent of plumeria flowers hanging in the air like an intoxicating perfume.

"Sister Ān'nà, you did it again," a voice piped up from the shadows, a mischievous, childlike tone carrying in the cool night breeze. From the corner of her vision, Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà saw the small figure of Tú Yòu step into the light. The little goblin-like creature, with his large red eyes and sharp teeth, waddled over with his usual eerie energy. "Tonight, you even made four humans fainted."

Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà hmphed in her direction, clearly uninterested in the praise. "Just do your thing," she murmured, glancing toward the shadows where the old master was calling them. "Master is already calling us back."

With a small cackle, Tú Yòu scrambled towards the fallen bodies, his small hands quick and nimble. He first approached Zhào Shù, searching through his pockets before reaching for his wrist. A small smile tugged at the goblin's lips as he pulled out the ancient traditional wallet bag, its fabric slightly frayed from use. He dug deeper into the man's belongings, eventually spotting a ring on Zhào Shù's finger. With a child-like excitement, he took it, slipping it off with ease. Without hesitation, he slipped his hand into the ring's interior, his red eyes gleaming as he explored its contents: books, martial art scrolls, paper banknotes, energy potions, healing elixirs, and sparkling jewels. Everything was swiftly gathered, disappearing into his grasp before he moved on to the next man.

The search continued without pause—Fáng Míng, Liáng Kě, and Cháng Guāng's bodies were similarly plundered for any item of value. Tú Yòu seemed pleased with the collection, his hands moving quickly, as if used to such tasks. He finished his work and pulled out of the storage ring, his eyes blinking in surprise when he realized Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà was gone.

Meanwhile, in the distance, Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà had appeared in front of a small satay stall, still in her human form, now composed and serene. She approached the old vendor, Uncle Chén, with a polite smile. "Uncle Chén, are you done? I want one portion with rice, as usual, please."

Uncle Chén, his wrinkled face betraying no surprise at her request, nodded without a word, moving with practiced efficiency. Quietly, he grilled the chicken skewers, smothering them in a rich, savory sauce before steaming a portion of rice. He placed both onto the table, the smell of sizzling meat mingling with the plumeria scent that lingered around her.

Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà smiled softly, as if this were an everyday occurrence, and turned to her companion. "Tú Yòu, please store it as usual."

Tú Yòu appeared with his usual bounce, collecting the food and storing it away with the same care as always. In a flash, both were gone, their forms vanishing into the night with the food in tow. The faint rustle of their departure echoed in the quiet street as Uncle Chén looked down at the table, where the coins he'd left were far more than the cost of the meal.

He finished packing up his stall, the sight of the empty table something he'd grown used to, though a question lingered in his heart each time. As he pushed his cart away, his voice cracked through the night. "Ghosts can eat," he muttered to himself, the words strange on his tongue. "They eat satay and rice."

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After slipping away from that roadside, Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà and Tú Yòu moved unseen through the quiet night, their presence undetectable by humans or beasts. Their journey led them to a modest school building, its sign reading Great Rice Field Beast Tamer Middle School. The two ghosts continued their way to the dormitory, where a teenage student occupied a private room—each student in this school was given their own space, unlike the usual shared rooms with two bunk beds.

Inside, the teenage boy sat on his bed, engrossed in his game of Cheating System. It was a game invisible to everyone but him, as he manipulated the environment in a way that felt... unnatural.

Then, as if on cue, a delicate scent of plumeria flowers wafted through the air. The boy didn't flinch or show any fear at the sudden fragrance. Instead, he casually asked, "Are you here, Ān'nà?"

Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà, still in her human guise, appeared beside him. She wore a long white dress that shimmered faintly in the dim light, her long hair cascading over her shoulders like a dark waterfall. The sweet fragrance of plumeria followed her as she gave a polite salute, her hands gracefully lifting. "Master, we're home."

Tú Yòu, still the mischievous goblin-like figure with his large, red eyes and childlike demeanor, appeared beside her, picking his nose with a look of intense concentration. "Master..." he said, his voice high-pitched and childishly eager.

Ān'nà shot him an irritated glare before giving him a swift kick. He flew back and collided with the wall, landing with a soft thud. Surprisingly, there was no injury—only a surprised, angry grunt from the small creature. "What was that for?" Tú Yòu growled, showing his sharp teeth.

Ān'nà shrugged nonchalantly. "You deserved it. It's lucky I didn't step on you earlier."

Tú Yòu scrunched his face, indignation growing. "What do you mean? Am I a ball?" His words were simple, yet full of childish rebellion.

Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà gave him a pointed look, raising a finger as if about to scold a child. "You should show Master the same respect you would do to your parents...your grandfather..and your elders," she said, her voice adopting a tone of mock seriousness. Her left hand rested on her hip, her right index finger tapping rhythmically as she spoke.

Tú Yòu squinted up at her. "So, you're calling Master an old man. Besides, I do not have a parent. How do I know?" he retorted, his eyes wide with playful defiance.

This only deepened Ān'nà's irritation. She lifted both her feet, ready to step on him once again. Before things could escalate further, the boy interrupted them, his voice calm but firm.

"Enough, both of you!" he called, his patience thin. "What did you get, Ān'nà? Did you feed on the life energy of those wicked men? And did you find out what happened to my family that night?"

Understanding that her Master was serious, Ān'nà nodded. "Master, I took life energy from four thugs. The leader among them had quite a bit, but his three men were weak—barely any life energy to speak of."

The boy seemed to ponder this for a moment. "Hmm... their lives probably aren't as comfortable as their leader's." He knew well that the more prosperous a person's life, the more abundant their life energy. These four thugs, subordinates to the leader, likely lived on scraps, with little to eat or enjoy. Their leader might have fared better, but the others were probably malnourished and weary. It was no wonder their energy was so weak.

Ān'nà continued, her voice turning more serious. "Tonight, I learned that their leader suspects his master knows about the tragedy that struck his family."

The boy's eyes sharpened. This was significant. The tragedy she spoke of involved his own family—the Yán family, once powerful leaders of the Arcane Dominion of the Enchanted Flame, a legacy now lost. And he is none other than Yán Jiàoyáng's son, Yán Shengxin. 

"Good! Good work, Ān'nà," he said, a rare smile curving his lips. "For that, I'll give you some extra time to play."

Ān'nà laughed, her ghostly laugh bubbling up before she quickly stifled it, lowering her head slightly in a modest gesture. It was the closest she ever came to showing bashfulness in front of her Master.

The boy looked down at Tú Yòu, his gaze stern. "What about you, huh? Have you taken out the things you found? And where's my chicken skewer rice?"

Tú Yòu immediately scrambled, his eyes wide with alarm. He rushed to retrieve the items he had collected, hopping to the boy's desk and placing them carefully. "Please, Master! Enjoy!" he said, bowing dramatically before hopping back down to the floor.

Yán Shengxin smiled, his mood lightening. He bent down to stroke the small goblin-like boy's head, his fingers ruffling the ghost's red hair. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice warm.

Yan Shengxin smiled as he bent down to ruffle the head of the green-haired, erect-eared ghost boy who, at first glance, could easily be mistaken for a goblin.

But just as he was about to eat, a sudden loud knock echoed through the room.

"Shèngxīn... Shèngxīn, are you in there?!" a voice called from the hallway.

Startled, Yan Shengxin quickly leaned toward Tú Yòu and whispered urgently, "Quick, put everything away. Use the storage ring." He needed to hide the items that had been scattered on the floor before his friend entered. It wouldn't do for anyone to see the unusual belongings in his room.

"Wait a minute..." Yan Shengxin called out in a nonchalant tone, as if nothing was wrong. "I'll put on my pants first," he randomly shouted a reason, all while swiftly ensuring that everything was hidden from sight.

With a final glance at Tú Yòu, who had already hidden the last of the items, Yan Shengxin opened the door. The two ghosts stood still in the room, invisible to human eyes, their presence lingering unnoticed.

The boy on the other side of the door, a fellow student named Tí Lóng, stood there with a casual grin. "What are you doing in here so early?" Yan Shengxin asked, pretending to still be half-asleep as he rubbed his eyes.

Tí Lóng, never one for formalities, barged in without hesitation, closing the door behind him. He was used to visiting Yan Shengxin's room at all hours, often entering without warning. As he did so, Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà raised both her hands in annoyance, glaring at the intruder. Her irritation was palpable—this boy always seemed to stay far too long, disturbing the moments she cherished with her Master.

Yan Shengxin rolled his eyes and subtly signaled to the ghost to hold off on her usual threats. With a disgruntled snort, Ān'nà relented, crossing her arms as she shot an exasperated glare at Tí Lóng.

The teenager didn't seem to notice, plopping down in a chair across from Yan Shengxin. "Ready for our usual game?" he asked eagerly, flashing a mischievous grin.

Tí Lóng often visited to chat or play cards, a routine that had become quite familiar. Of course, Yan Shengxin always won—thanks to Tú Yòu, who could easily "acquire" the best cards. Yan Shengxin didn't mind the cheating; it was all in good fun.

"Sure, but you know you're going to lose again, right?" Yan Shengxin smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Tí Lóng groaned, rolling his eyes. "Every time! You're unbeatable!" he muttered in frustration as the game began. The sound of cards shuffling and the occasional groan of defeat filled the room, as they settled into their usual rhythm.

Time passed in a blur, the game stretching on into the early morning. Eventually, they both grew too tired to continue, and with a few final words, they called it a night. Exhausted, they lay down to sleep—Tí Lóng with his usual grumbling about losing again, and Yan Shengxin with a satisfied smile, his ghostly companions watching quietly from the shadows.

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