The Actor 05

Fang Zhiyi glanced at him—this poor fellow had gotten quite a raw deal. Originally an apprentice at an herbal shop, he had secretly warned customers when he saw the shopkeeper altering prescriptions for profit.

But the customer was a fool. Instead of keeping quiet, they confronted the shopkeeper in public, declaring it was the apprentice who had tipped them off.

The shop’s reputation plummeted, and the shopkeeper blamed him entirely. In a fit of rage, the man strangled him, then forced arsenic down his throat to stage it as a suicide out of guilt. The officials conducted a cursory investigation and left it at that.

Bai Jingtian became a vengeful ghost, seething with resentment.

But this was his first time as a ghost, and he had no idea how to harm anyone. When Fang Zhiyi found him, he was lingering outside the herbal shop, rehearsing what he would do once he went inside.

"Do you all want to remain wandering spirits forever?" Fang Zhiyi asked.

The ghosts behind him shook their heads frantically. Joking aside, who would dare nod? This opera singer would definitely start beating ghosts on the spot. No one understood why, but even among ghosts, he was terrifyingly fierce.

"Good. Starting today, I’m putting you all through training."

"Training?" The ghosts looked utterly bewildered.

"As ghosts, you need basic discipline and fundamental skills. Understand?" Seeing their blank stares, Fang Zhiyi sighed. "For example, Bai Jingtian, you don’t even know how to scare people, do you?"

Bai Jingtian nodded eagerly.

"Your primary focus is learning how to frighten people and set the right atmosphere. Got it?"

Bai Jingtian’s eyes lit up with realization.

"You, Xiulian." Fang Zhiyi pointed at her. "First, you need to shed the toxic mindset you had as a human. Figure out who your real enemies are and how to resist the malevolent energy inside you."

Xiulian nodded hesitantly.

"I hereby declare the inaugural Vengeful Ghost Training Program officially established!" Fang Zhiyi spread his arms triumphantly.

Little Hei clapped nearby, but the other ghosts just stood there dumbfounded. The first to react were Xiulian and Bai Jingtian, who started applauding, prompting the others to follow. However, their enthusiasm was so overzealous that the ghost at the back swung his arms too hard—his head tilted and rolled off. He scrambled to pick it up.

"Ah, the future looks bleak." Fang Zhiyi sighed. These ghosts were harder to manage than humans. Their minds were filled with nothing but grudges and resentment.

"Little Hei, what’s the situation with Ma Xiuyun?"

After a pause, Little Hei replied, "She’s been following He Weizheng around, asking if there are any vengeful ghosts nearby. But every ghost within a hundred miles is already here. They won’t find anything."

Fang Zhiyi smirked. "Perfect. People praise and revere them because they can deal with vengeful spirits. But if there are no ghosts left, how do you think those people will treat them?"

Little Hei thought of the townsfolk in Qinghe Town and shook his head in disgust.

"But, Host, that starving ghost I mentioned earlier… killed a carriage driver."

Fang Zhiyi’s eyes gleamed. "Oh?"

That night, Jinglin Town was eerily quiet. A carriage driver had been murdered, and though the officials didn’t say it outright, the townsfolk knew—it was the work of a vengeful ghost. Everyone locked their doors early, avoiding the streets after dark.

Only the night watchman, Wei Bao, wandered the town with a grimace. He had no choice—this job paid his meals, and he was saving up to marry.

When he reached the outskirts where the driver had died, Wei Bao muttered prayers under his breath. But even that didn’t help.

In the blink of an eye, his surroundings changed. The cold, desolate atmosphere warmed slightly, and a group of people sat around a table nearby, drinking and laughing.

The smell of meat wafted into Fubao’s nose. Though his mind screamed that something was wrong, his body betrayed him—it was meat! Common folk had to save for ages just to afford a bite.

He couldn’t resist. His legs moved on their own, carrying him toward the table. The figures turned in unison, grinning at him in a way that sent chills down his spine.

"You’re here? Sit and eat!"

Fubao’s eyes locked onto the meat. Saliva pooled in his mouth. He couldn’t hold back—he plopped down and grabbed a pork knuckle. He’d seen this dish once before, at a scholar’s birthday banquet.

But the texture felt off. Was pork knuckle supposed to feel like this? Fubao glanced around. The drinkers were all watching him with eerie smiles. Then he froze—one face stood out. It was the carriage driver who had died yesterday! Fubao had seen the body in the crowd. The man had a black mole the size of a fingernail on his cheek—just like this one.

The driver, as if still alive, grinned. "Eat. Go on, eat."

Fubao’s rationality surged back. A cold gust snapped him awake. The warm glow vanished—only a wooden stump remained, surrounded by paper effigies.

The driver alone still sat there. "Eat." When Fubao didn’t move, he grew angry, grabbing a chunk of meat and shoving it toward Fubao’s mouth.

"If he doesn’t want to eat, why force him?" A chilling voice cut through the air. Fubao turned slowly to see a figure in opera robes, flanked by a woman in red and a scholar in white. Behind them stood a headless ghost—well, not entirely headless. He held his own head in his hands.

Even a fool would know these were ghosts. Fubao’s luck was abysmal—one ghost was bad enough, but a whole group?

Yet they seemed uninterested in him.

"Huang Youcai, you starved because of your own laziness. No one stole your food or land. Why linger in the mortal realm?" Fang Zhiyi flicked his sleeve, his tone commanding.

The driver’s form shifted, revealing a scabby-headed man.

"Damn opera freak, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?"

Fang Zhiyi frowned. "Huh. That phrase is getting popular." With a mere gesture, the ghosts behind him surged forward. After being beaten by Fang Zhiyi, they were eager to try their strength on another ghost.

As Huang Youcai disappeared under the onslaught—even the headless ghost whacked him with his own skull—Fubao trembled in silence. He looked down. The "meat" had turned into dirt, roots, and maggots.

"Don’t be afraid. As long as you do no evil, the Thirteen Guardians won’t harm the innocent." Fang Zhiyi raised a hand, striking what he thought was a heroic pose.