The Turbid Abyss — the very bottom of the Hungry Ghost Realm.

  No heaven above, no ground below. Only malice—thick as tar, clinging like pitch.

  The deeper you went, the denser the darkness became.

  The further down you went, the darker it got—and the darkness grew teeth. Up above, common grievances fluttered past like ash-gray moths. Here, eons of emotional waste had compressed into crude oil, black and suffocating.

  She called herself "Ling." The name was scavenged. A long story she never bothered explaining.

  In a place where most souls couldn't remember their own faces, having a name already put her ahead of the game. At least she had something to write on a business card.

  Right now, she stood barefoot on the skull of the Nine Hells Heaven-Devouring Serpent. It was a beast that had once swallowed half a cultivation sect. Now, its blackened skeleton served as her footstool.

  "Still not ready," Ling sighed.

  She reached into the massive vat before her. Black bubbles roiled on the surface like boiling pitch. With a casual flick, she plucked out a shrieking spirit.

  It was a Red-Robed Vengeful Ghost—an S-class threat that could level a city in the mortal world. Ling handled it like a wet washcloth. She closed her hand.

  Pop.

  The ghost burst into a wisp of refined smoke and dissolved into the brew.

  "A little pepper for the kick."She dipped her pinky in and tasted.

  "Tch. Too much resentment. Overpowers the bouquet." She flicked her hand dismissively. "Whatever. Good enough for the regulars."

  The liquid in that vat was the most precious commodity in the Turbid Abyss: Tranquil Spirit Wine.

  One sip could silence the endless screaming in a tormented soul's head. Like a drowning man finally gasping air.

  A few hours of peace in an eternity of madness.

  Her tavern perched on the edge of the Abyss, at a peculiar pressure equilibrium point.One mile up lay the churning shallows of the garbage dump. One mile down was the absolute dead zone—where souls were crushed into literal paste.

  The regulars had plenty of theories about the strange proprietress：

  "Heard she just appeared in the dump one day," whispered Mouth-Granny, a floating pair of giant, gossiping lips."Doesn't remember how she got here."

  "Then how can she live in the Turbid Abyss? We choke just getting close. She's down there like it's a hot spring vacation."

  "I heard she might be some big shot's—"

  "Shh—you trying to get dissolved?"

  Ling had heard it all a thousand times. She didn't bother explaining. Mainly because she didn't know the answers either.

  Don't know? Fine. Don't know.

  Being alive—or whatever she was—being able to brew, and having a corner of this hellhole to call her own… that was enough.

  "Little Ear, any news from Mouth-Granny?"

  Ling stirred the vat. "I heard Su Soran is heading to the mortal world. Is that true?"

  Her left ear—an organ a size larger than normal—warmed slightly.

  Fragmented whispers filtered through:

  "…fox immortal… mortal realm… superstar… debut…"

  "Holy shit." Ling's eyes lit up. "He's becoming a celebrity?! Where?"

  Little Ear twitched again, adding keywords:

  "Location: Pit Three… Timeline: Three months… Status: Big moves… "

  Something stirred in Ling's chest.

  "Pit Three" was what the intelligence peddlers called major human cities. The Hungry Ghost Realm only cared about the "pits"—places with high body counts, dense resentment, and thick karma.

  Pit Three was the biggest one on the eastern coast. Population in the tens of millions. And the crack leading there? It sat right at the Crooked Tree in the upper garbage dump.

  Ling shot to her feet.

  How long had she been searching for Soran? She'd lost count.

  The legendary Fox Immortal who could trace a soul back to its origin—rumor had it he went into seclusion centuries ago.

  And now, he had popped up on his own.

  Going full celebrity, no less. How tacky.

  "Little Ear—the crack at the crooked tree. Still open?"

  A warm pulse of confirmation.

  But there was a problem. The fissure was one-way. It only let the living through. Dead things, Yin-entities, anything without Yang energy—they just bounced right back.

  And she? A ghost from the deepest depths of the Turbid Abyss?

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  Ling went silent for a moment.

  Her gaze drifted to a jar in the corner of the tavern. Inside: every memory fragment she'd collected over the years. Rainbow-colored, like a jar of crushed candy.

  These were priceless to her. And to another group as well.

  The Purifiers.

  Those "law enforcement" types who patrolled the garbage dump loved this stuff. Clean memory shards could be refined into positive energy — their performance metrics, their bonuses, their tickets to promotion.

  If she shattered these… the energy burst would be like blood in shark-infested waters.

  And Purifiers, to descend into the high-pressure zones of the Turbid Abyss, had to carry one thing: Yang Essence Flasks.

  Ling's lips curved slowly upward.

  Outside the ramshackle tavern, a line had formed. Not a single nameless ghost among them.

  Demon generals missing half their skulls. Deep-sea horrors. Ancient zombies.

  These were the apex predators of the upper realm—and here they stood, queuing up like schoolchildren. Because they knew: the lady inside was… temperamental.

  Last month, some clueless Demon King had tried to cut the line. Word was she brewed him into wine. The vat was still bubbling with his screams.

  Suddenly, a sharp sound from the back room.

  CRASH—

  Rainbow shards scattered everywhere, blazing with light in the darkness. It was like a tiny sun had ignited in this realm of pure negativity.

  The demon lords went wide-eyed. A ripple of hunger passed through the crowd.

  "Ahem… next."Ling's languid voice drifted out.

  Sanity returned instantly. Stealing something here

  Missing out on wine is the least of your worries. You'd end up IN the wine.

  Mouth-Granny trembled her way inside.

  "P-Proprietress… I've got another tip. Think I could get… maybe half a cup more on credit?"

  Ling leaned against the bar—dragon bones, naturally—her eyes cold as scalpels

  "Let's hear it first."

  "Su Soran! The legendary fox immortal!" Mouth-Granny blurted out. "His foster daughter is in the mortal world too! Just found out she's gotten into deep trouble. You get your hands on that leverage, think the old fox won't behave? Hehe…"

  "You sure?"

  Ling appeared before Mouth-Granny in a shimmer, her finger hovering over that cavernous mouth. "And you want half a cup for this?"

  "MERCY!" Mouth-Granny shrieked. "I-I was only thinking of you! That fox isn't worthy of licking your shoes… but if you just charge in, you might not adjust in time…"

  "Don't need your concern." Ling cut her off, looking up at the pitch-black void overhead. "Shh… they're here."

  Two streaks of golden light tore through the darkness like falling stars.

  Two Purifiers in regulation black armor touched down, soul-hooking chains in hand. They were wreathed in Yang-fire that made the surrounding ghosts flinch.

  "Caught red-handed!" one bellowed. "Hoarding contraband! Illegal assembly!"

  He stopped mid-sentence.

  He'd spotted Ling behind the bar. And behind Ling, a familiar head bobbing in the wine vat—the Number Three Most Wanted on their list, currently marinating nicely.

  His neck creaked as he scanned the room.

  Wait…

  Every single customer here was on the wanted list. And they were all just… sitting there. Quietly. Drinking.

  Cold sweat erupted on both Purifiers.

  "Uh… sorry to bother you." The left Purifier started backing away. "GPS must've glitched."

  "Stay." Ling's voice was soft. The two Purifiers froze mid-step.

  She walked toward them, each footfall sending black ripples across the void.

  "Perfect timing, actually." She smiled—a warm, wholesome smile. She extended her hand. "Hand over the Yang Essence Flasks."

  "Th-those are government property…"

  "Oh?"

  Ling raised an eyebrow. Flicked her finger.

  BOOM.

  In the distance, a mountain of ancient corpses dissolved into powder. Ling blew imaginary dust from her fingertip.

  "Private property now?"

  The two Purifiers practically tore the flasks from their belts. "Not just private property—these are gifts! Welcoming gifts! For you!"

  Ling took one, satisfied, turning it over in her hand with curiosity.

  The Purifiers stared at the empty container, faces pale as paper, legs trembling.

  We're finished. Completely finished.

  Losing high-level enforcement gear and precious yang essence? According to Underworld Regulations, that meant getting deep-fried in the Eighteen-Layer Oil Pot until golden brown.

  They were already imagining themselves as tempura.

  Ling turned to leave. But she caught their funeral-ready expressions from the corner of her eye. She paused.

  "Hey."

  Both Purifiers nearly dropped to their knees. "Y-Yes, Great One? More commands?"

  Ling adjusted her tattered cloak, her tone lazy: "I'm heading to the mortal world. Long trip. Boring. Could use some atmosphere."

  She waved the flask. A sly smile played on her lips. "If you two look after my tavern while I'm gone… I wouldn't mind having some dogs barking behind me for show."

  The Purifiers blinked. The quicker one's eyes suddenly lit up.

  Getting robbed means incompetence — that's the oil pot.

  But if we discovered a ghost escaping to the mortal realm and gave chase, fought valiantly but failed…

  That's a 'duty-related setback.' Three hundred years' bonus docked at most!

  He straightened. "Great One! Your tavern will be untouched. You have our word!"

  "Not completely stupid." She tilted her head, a flicker of crimson mischief in her eyes.

  Her form blurred into a streak of black lightning, hurtling toward the fissure.

  The two Purifiers stood frozen for a heartbeat. Then, with impeccable timing, they erupted into earth-shaking roars — still a bit shaky, but the performance was flawless:

  "HALT, FIEND!!!"

  "STOP RIGHT THERE!!! I'LL CHASE YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE UNDERWORLD!!!"

  Clang, clang, clang—

  They swung their soul-chains wildly, howling like rabid dogs as they sprinted after her. Deep down, they both knew catching her was impossible. But the show had to be convincing.

  The only one truly following Ling was Little Ear.

  "Just us now," she murmured, touching her left ear.

  A warm pulse answered.

  She glanced back one last time at the shabby little tavern — the closest thing she had to a "home." Something felt oddly hollow.

  The Crooked Tree.

  A massive black tree, twisted into shape by countless despairing emotions. At its gnarled roots, a thin crack. Light seeped through. Mortal light.

  "There!" Ling accelerated.

  Behind her, the Purifiers spotted her destination and screamed: "Are you insane?! That fissure only lets the living through! You'll just get bounced—"

  She ignored them. Mid-sprint, she brought the stolen Yang Essence Flask to her lips.

  "Sorry," she said. "I'm alive now." And chugged the entire thing.

  Pfft—

  Searing energy exploded inside her. The yang essence clashed violently with her ultimate-yin spirit body — ice cubes dropped into boiling oil.

  Pain. Pain that nearly tore her apart. But she didn't slow down. She sped up. The yang burned through her, converting into raw propulsion. She became a bullet, fired point-blank at the fissure—Blinding light swallowed her vision.

  Wind screamed past her ears. Little Ear transmitted frantic warnings:

  "ALERT: IMPACT IMMINENT! IMPACT IMMINENT! IMPACT IMMINENT!"

  Then she felt something grab her and hurl her forward. Like a stone from a slingshot.

  WHAM.

  "Su Soran." Her lips curved.

  "Big sis is coming for you."

  traditional East Asian style—Surname first, Given name second

  SuSoran