A debt-ridden tycoon inherits a luxury mansion, but the tenants are not human.

At seven o'clock the next morning, a series of light and rapid scraping sounds on the door pulled Chen Mo out of his sleep.

The sound was coming from the small wooden door leading from the main room to the basement; someone was scratching the door panel with their fingernails.

Chen Mo went downstairs and opened the small door. The Earth Spirit stood at the doorway, its clay body covered with spiderweb-like cracks, exuding an air of anxiety.

"What's wrong?" Chen Mo's voice was a little hoarse.

"They're here." Di Ling's voice drilled straight into Chen Mo's mind, carrying an unusual urgency. "It's not Li Yaohua. It's another group, circling around the alley entrance, carrying weapons."

"What guy?"

"Magic artifacts," the earth spirit said, "a compass, talismans... and a gun."

Chen Mo's throat tightened suddenly.

"The cops?"

"Doesn't seem like it. Plainclothes, but he's a trained fighter." Di Ling paused. "He's waiting for someone."

Chen Mo walked to the back of the courtyard gate and peered through the crack. Sure enough, a black SUV was parked at the alley entrance, its windows tinted dark so he couldn't see inside. The car was still running, and the exhaust pipe was vibrating slightly.

He retreated into the main room and lowered his voice: "Li Yaohua's men?"

"Most likely," the spirit replied. "They got humiliated at the temple yesterday, so they'll definitely get their revenge today."

Chen Mo frowned deeply: "Then should we still have him come this afternoon?"

"Let him come." Di Ling's voice deepened. "Once you're in this house, you're the landlord. Even if he has a gun and talismans, he still has to abide by the rules here."

"What are the rules?"

"The gatekeeper's rules," the Earth Spirit said. "They're written in the documents, remember? You can't use the landlord's domain right now, but this house has its own temperament. People with murderous intent can't enter this house."

Chen Mo recalled the description: within the old house's grounds, the landlord could suppress all spiritual abilities and force dialogue. The house itself was a living entity.

"What if they try to force their way in?" Chen Mo asked.

Di Ling was silent for a few seconds: "Then let's see if this old house recognizes you as its landlord."

Chen Mo felt a chill run down his spine. He walked to the octagonal table and opened the "Book of Obsessions." Under Su Wanqing's page, there was a line of small, still-wet ink:

Warning: The involvement of living, breathing individuals has increased the risk level. Landlords are advised to activate the basic defense mechanisms of the old property.

"How do I use it?"

"Yes," said the spirit. "You're the landlord, and this house can hear your thoughts. Whatever you want it to be, it will become."

Chen Mo closed his eyes, focusing all his thoughts. He imagined the courtyard wall being a foot higher, the door an inch thicker, and the old locust tree in the yard drooping its branches to block the entrance. He imagined an aura that would make anyone who entered with malicious intent feel flustered, short of breath, and restless.

When I opened my eyes again, the room was still the same room, nothing had changed.

But the wick of the extinguished kerosene lamp in the main room trembled without warning, and a wisp of black smoke rose and dissipated into the air.

The earth spirit nodded: "It's done. The rules are set: Anyone who enters this gate with murderous intent will have their luck decline for three days."

"Is this really that strange?"

"The old house's capabilities are more sinister than you think." Di Ling turned around, her shadow disappearing into the darkness of the basement. "I'll go prepare some things. You should also get ready; these guests this afternoon won't be easy to deal with."

Chen Mo went upstairs to wash up. The person in the mirror was pale, with sunken eyes. The dark blue mark under his collarbone had grown larger, now the size of a coin, with several blood-red lines creeping out from the edges; it was a talisman that was sprouting.

He washed his face, changed into a dark shirt, and finally looked less thin in the mirror.

At 10 a.m., the SUV was still at the alley entrance.

Chen Mo peeked out of the second-floor window and saw a man and a woman get out of the car. The man was in his forties, with a crew cut, a solid build, and a brisk walk, the kind of person who came from the military. The woman was in her early thirties, with short hair, dressed casually, but carrying a brass compass in her hand.

The two stopped at the alley entrance. The woman raised her compass, pointing it towards the old house. The compass needle spun wildly. She frowned and whispered a few words to the man. The man's expression hardened, and he nodded heavily.

The two got back into their car and drove off.

Chen Mo's palms were sweating. The person Li Yaohua had found was a tough nut to crack.

At noon, Chen Mo casually cooked a bowl of noodles. The steam from the noodle soup made his eyes sting. His phone vibrated; it was a WeChat message from Zhou Ming: "Mr. Chen, I've booked a flight. I'll arrive next Wednesday at 3 PM. Should I come directly to your place?"

Chen Mo replied, "Sure. Do you need me to pick you up from the airport?"

"No need, I'll take a taxi. Also, that old house you live in... is it the one my mother mentioned? No. 17 Qing Shi Lane?"

"right."

"That house..." Zhou Ming typed slowly, "My mom said it's a bit... unusual. Are you doing well living there?"

Chen Mo stared at the sentence, his fingertip hovering over the screen, and typed a few words: "It's fine, nothing's wrong."

He didn't mention that your mother's old neighbors also live in this house.

At 2:30 p.m., Chen Mo began preparations. He wiped the octagonal table in the main room until it reflected a person's image, and set out two rough porcelain teacups. The tea was old tea sifted from a kitchen jar, with a musty smell mixed with the aroma of dried hay.

A grand chair was placed in the main seat, and he sat down, his back straight. The spirit of the earth stood silently behind him.

At 2:50, the sound of engines came from outside the courtyard gate; there was more than one.

Chen Mo peeked through the crack in the door. Two cars were there: a gleaming black Mercedes in front, and the same SUV from that morning behind. Three people got out of the Mercedes: Li Yaohua, an elderly man in a traditional Chinese suit, and a capable female assistant. The couple from that morning, along with a driver, got out of the SUV.

There were six people in total, quite a large group.

Li Yaohua changed into a sharp suit and stood outside the courtyard gate, staring up at the lintel of the old house with a furrowed brow. The elderly man in a Tang suit next to him also looked up, rapidly turning a string of Buddhist prayer beads in his hand while his lips moved incessantly.

The female assistant stepped forward and knocked on the door knocker.

Chen Mo waited until the echo of the copper ring faded before reaching out to open the door.

The moment the door opened, the eyes of the six people outside all turned to him, and they were all stunned. The astonishment in their eyes was partly due to his youth, and partly due to his bloodless face and calm eyes.

"Mr. Li, please." Chen Mo stepped aside.

Li Yaohua gave him a scrutinizing look before stepping inside. The elderly man in the Tang suit followed closely behind, with his female assistant bringing up the rear.

The three people who got out of the SUV wanted to come in, but as soon as they stepped onto the threshold, the burly man with the crew cut suddenly stopped, his face turning pale.

"What's wrong?" the short-haired woman asked.

"Something's not right," the burly man said in a deep voice. "There are dozens of eyes watching from the shadows."

The compass needle in the short-haired woman's hand spun wildly, finally pointing straight to the main room. Her expression changed: "There's... too much stuff inside, too much clutter."

"Should we go in or not?" The driver's hand was already on his lower back.

"Go in." The burly man with the crew cut gritted his teeth. "President Li is inside. If something happens to him, we're all finished."

The three of them steeled themselves and stepped into the courtyard. The instant they entered, Chen Mo saw a faint golden light flash across each of them—something like a talisman. But the golden light was very weak and dissipated with a gust of wind.

The group entered the main room.

Li Yaohua's gaze fell on Di Ling, his eyes suddenly narrowing. The old man in the Tang suit was fiddling with the Buddhist prayer beads in his hand, almost causing sparks to fly.

"Sit." Chen Mo raised his chin, gesturing to the armchair opposite him.

Li Yaohua sat down, his female assistant standing behind him. The elderly man in the Tang suit sat down next to him. The three men in the SUV didn't sit down; they stood by the door, their eyes warily scanning every corner of the room.

In Chen Mo's eyes, the auras of these six people were all different colors. Li Yaohua's was a dark red, a mixture of guilt and fear. The old man in the Tang suit was a pale gold, indicating some cultivation, but not much. The female assistant was an ordinary person's gray. The three people at the door were shrouded in a layer of silver-white, the residual light of magical artifacts.

"Mr. Chen," Li Yaohua began, his voice much steadyer than it had been at the temple yesterday, "I've thought about what you said yesterday."

Chen Mo remained silent, his fingertips tapping lightly on the armrest of the armchair.

"What happened to Wanqing is indeed a regret," Li Yaohua said. "But ten years have passed, and with people gone, bringing up old grievances won't benefit anyone. I'm here today with a solution."

"What plan?"

"Compensation." Li Yaohua took a folder from his female assistant and pushed it to the center of the table. "Su Wanqing's mother passed away the year after she died, leaving her with no immediate family. I can establish a Su Wanqing Art Foundation in the company's name. In addition, I will personally contribute another 500,000 yuan to build her a tomb with good feng shui, so that someone can visit it every year."

Chen Mo's gaze fell on the folder, but he didn't reach out.

"This is my greatest sincerity." Li Yaohua leaned forward. "A public apology is impossible. Too many people are involved. Mr. Chen, you are young and stubborn. But in society, sometimes, compromise is the greatest wisdom."

Chen Mo stopped typing and suddenly asked, "Mr. Li, you're a Buddhist, and you burn incense on the first and fifteenth of the lunar month. What do you pray for when you pray?"

Li Yaohua was taken aback: "What do you mean?"

"I'm thinking," Chen Mo's voice was slow and slightly hoarse, "that you're burning incense for peace of mind while doing things that make you uneasy. Can Buddha possibly manage all that?"

The elderly man in the Tang suit spoke, his voice dry and hoarse: "Young man, be careful what you say. President Li is a devout Buddhist; sincerity brings results."

"Sincerity?" Chen Mo turned his gaze to him. "Then tell me, Buddha, how many incense sticks can repay the debt of driving someone to their death and making them carry the blame for ten years?"

The old man's face darkened: "You..."

"Mr. Chen," Li Yaohua interrupted him, "I'm here today to discuss business. If you don't accept, there's nothing I can do."

"Does your proposal include the words 'innocence'?" Chen Mo asked.

Li Yaohua pursed his lips.

"Were you told everyone that the scandals from back then were all fake?"

"Impossible." Li Yaohua said, emphasizing each word. "I told you, it involves too much."

"So you'd rather spend 500,000 on a rock than tell a single truth." Chen Mo grinned, but there was no real smile in his eyes. "In your mind, a human life is only worth 500,000, plus the naming rights to a foundation?"

"So what do you want?" Li Yaohua's voice rose. "Do you really want to fight to the death? Kid, I, Li Yaohua, have been around for thirty years. What haven't I seen? What makes you, a mere brat, think you can fight me?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the three bodyguards at the door took a step forward in unison, their hands on their backs. Beneath their suits, the hard outline of a gun was visible.

The light in the main room suddenly dimmed.

A sudden gust of cold wind arose, rippling the tea on the table. The Earth Spirit took a step forward, shielding Chen Mo. The cracks on its earthen body were deepening, threatening to shatter completely at any moment.

Chen Mo placed his hand on Di Ling's shoulder and shook his head.

He stood up, walked around the octagonal table, and stood in front of Li Yaohua, looking down at him.

"Mr. Li, do you know what Su Wanqing's last thought was before she jumped off the building?"