The ancient return was exposed by his sister's live stream.

Her voice lowered as she glanced at Fan Hai lying on the ground.

"He's my college classmate, Fan Hai. He's been harassing me lately, and when I ignored him, he became even more aggressive. That night, I don't know how he got in, but he sent the homeowner away and waited alone in the room. He had already locked the door when I came in."

Chen Siyao frowned.

"I turned to leave, but he blocked my way." Song Xinxue's voice trailed off. "He said a lot of things, that he was rich now, that I didn't know what was good for me, and that he could get anything he wanted. I told him to leave, but he wouldn't listen, and... he even tried to hit me."

She clutched the jade pendant tightly in her hand: "When he grabbed me, this jade pendant got hot. When he tried to pull me away, it felt like I was electrocuted, and I was thrown back. He was stunned for a moment, and then he went crazy."

He said, "This is the amulet that little internet celebrity gave you, right? Last time I commanded two vengeful ghosts, and this is what backfired on me?"

Chen Hao's eyes narrowed slightly. Two vengeful ghosts, turning on him. So, he was the one who did what happened that night.

Song Xinxue continued, "While he was in a daze, I ran into this room and locked the door from the inside. He banged on the door from the outside, but couldn't break it open, so he took out a black flag."

"Then...then those things came. They were everywhere—in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling. They surrounded the doorway, preventing me from going out. He just stood there, laughing, saying, 'Let's see how long you can hide.'"

Her voice began to tremble: "I'm hiding here, afraid to go out, afraid to open the door. The jade pendant keeps getting hot, and those things don't dare to come near me, but he... he's standing at the door, not leaving."

"I heard him talking outside, sometimes it was his own voice, sometimes... it was another voice. The voice didn't sound like a human could make, it was like something was talking inside his body."

Chen Siyao glanced at Fan Hai lying on the ground, then at Chen Hao.

Chen Hao walked over and looked down at Fan Hai. His face was deathly pale, and the red line at the corner of his left eye was still there, though much faded. After the Ghost King was scattered, his body finally returned to his own hands. He was unconscious, breathing weakly, but still alive.

"His cultivation was insufficient, and he couldn't control the Soul Gathering Banner, so he was attacked by its backlash." Chen Hao's voice was calm. "The Ghost King possessed his body, but his consciousness remained. The Ghost King perpetuated his obsession, so he has been guarding this place."

Song Xinxue looked at Fan Hai with a complicated expression. This man had been harassing her for months and almost ruined her. Seeing him like this now, she felt no pity for him at all.

"Will he...die?" she asked softly.

Chen Hao was silent for a moment: "I'll most likely spend the rest of my life in jail."

Song Xinxue lowered her head and said nothing more.

Chen Siyao took her hand: "Sister Xue, don't think about it anymore. Let's go downstairs first. I'll leave this to my brother."

Song Xinxue nodded and followed her towards the stairwell. After taking a couple of steps, she glanced back at Fan Hai, then turned away and quickened her pace.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Chen Siyao suddenly stopped and looked back down the corridor. The corridor was still pitch black. Although the Ghost King had been dispersed, the black mist and the wandering souls remained.

They hid in corners, behind doors, and in the darkness, afraid to approach, but they didn't disperse either.

"Brother," she turned to look at Chen Hao, "what do we do here? Those souls are still here, and so is this black mist. What should we do?"

Chen Hao walked to the middle of the corridor and looked around. His gaze swept over every door, every corner, and every patch of darkness. Then he closed his eyes.

"Don't worry," he said softly, "I'll handle it."

He formed a mudra with his hands. The mudra was simple: his left hand rested on his right, fingers interlaced, like the gesture he made before folding a paper airplane as a child. But when he formed this mudra, the air in the entire corridor changed.

A golden light shone from him. It wasn't the dazzling, murderous golden light of a paulownia wood sword, but a soft, warm golden light, like the afternoon sun in winter.

Light emanated from his chest, like water, flowing over his shoulders, over his arms, over his fingertips, and then spreading in all directions.

Where the light reached, the black mist began to dissipate. It wasn't being driven away, but melting, like snow meeting the sun, gradually thinning, fading, and disappearing. Those souls hiding in the corners, illuminated by the light, stopped screaming and fleeing.

They stopped, stood still, and the black mist around them began to dissipate. Their terrifying faces became calm, their twisted bodies stretched out, and their broken, rotten, and fragmented parts slowly repaired themselves, became whole, and returned to their original state in the golden light.

An elderly man, wearing a gray coat, with gray hair and deep wrinkles on his face, looked at his hands, touched his face, then looked up at Chen Hao. His lips moved, but he didn't speak; his eyes reddened.

A young woman, with her hair in a ponytail and wearing sportswear, looked to be in her early twenties. She looked down at her intact body, then up at the slowly dissipating black mist around her, a dazed and disbelieving expression on her face.

A little boy, about seven or eight years old, wearing a school uniform and carrying a backpack, stood in the middle of the corridor, looking around as if searching for someone. Then he saw the old man, ran over, and took his hand. The old man looked down at him and smiled. The little boy smiled too.

One by one, the souls regained their former appearances in the golden light. They stood together in the corridor, quietly watching Chen Hao. There were no words of thanks, no excited expressions, they simply watched him silently.

Then they began to disappear. Not annihilated, but departed. Starting from their feet, they became transparent little by little, like water merging into water, like wind merging into wind. The old man disappeared, the little boy disappeared, the young woman disappeared, one after another, all the souls vanished.

The black fog in the corridor dissipated. The emergency lights were off, but the corridor wasn't dark. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, warm and yellow, illuminating the shoes, clothes, and cell phones scattered on the floor, the scratches and bloodstains on the walls, and Chen Hao himself.

He lowered his hand, turned around, and looked at Chen Siyao.

Chen Siyao stood there with her mouth agape, her phone hanging limply at her side, as if frozen in place.

"Brother," her voice was a little unsteady, "what...what was that just now?"

"The Righteous Qi Technique." Chen Hao's tone was calm, as if he were talking about a new dish he had learned today. "It's from the Confucian school."

Yang Wanqing whispered from the side, "Why didn't you use it when you were fighting just now?"

Chen Hao thought for a moment, then said seriously, "No, I just remembered this technique and learned it a bit. I didn't expect it to actually work."

The corridor was silent for three seconds.

Chen Siyao looked at him, Yang Wanqing looked at him, and more than 30 million people in the live broadcast room were watching him.