Liu Shengqing glanced at Director Mo and jumped in. “Yi Ge said you were raising a little ghost. I didn’t believe it at first, but it really is you!”
Ying Lin’s eyelid twitched. “You’re talking nonsense! I didn’t! Director Mo…”
As a director, Director Mo had long heard the industry’s odd tales and rumors. Though it was his first time witnessing one, he instantly believed Liu Shengqing—this was real.
Of course, it might also have been his inexplicable trust in Chu Yi. After that display, he practically wanted to enshrine him.
Seeing Director Mo waver, Ying Lin panicked. “Director Mo, it really has nothing to do with me! I only got back this afternoon. I wasn’t even here when Master Cheng got hurt!”
He had incriminated himself. Chu Yi smiled faintly. “Whether it is or not, extend your hand and we’ll know. You didn’t leave the crew just to avoid suspicion—you let blood to feed it, right?”
Chu Yi said this, but he was already certain. Ying Lin’s face was pallid; even with makeup, it showed a weakness from deficient yang qi. Could anyone’s complexion stay good after prolonged exposure to that thing?
“I, I…” Ying Lin reflexively clutched his sleeve, incriminating himself further.
“You bastard, so it was you who released the little ghost to harm my master!”
“Master just scolded you a couple times during riding lessons, and you held a grudge to retaliate!”
Xu Xing and the others had barely shielded their master from danger when they returned to hear this. Enraged, they charged forward with their burly junior brothers, grabbing Ying Lin and yanking up his costume sleeve. A fresh blood mark stood out starkly on the inside of his upper arm!
“Wait, don’t fight.” Director Mo rushed to intervene. Liu Shengqing eyed the pot-bellied director, fearing he’d get hurt by mistake, and joined the staff member who had screamed about the ghost earlier in pulling them apart.
Seeing he had nothing left to do, Chu Yi prepared to take President Yu back to the hotel to rest. He pulled out the contract tucked behind him and discovered the “person” on it had vanished.
He had no idea when he left. Perhaps during the little ghost capture—President Yu must have been so timid he feared ghosts too?
The next day, when Chu Yi got up, many people were already waiting for him: Director Mo, who looked fatigued from a sleepless night; Yu Qingxian; Ouyang Yuyuan; and two strangers.
Chu Yi’s gaze fixed on the two unfamiliar men. “Who are they?”
“Greetings, Mr. Chu. We’re staff from the Special Affairs Investigation Office—Te Shi Ban for short. I’m Yin Ming, and he’s Hou Feiguang.” The older man stood, polite and refined.
Chu Yi glanced at Yu Qingxian first, then said, “Hello.”
Yu Qingxian lowered his phoenix eyes, feeling as if Chu Yi had seen through him. His company’s invested production had this incident, so it naturally needed reporting. Only he had the connections for this level, which explained why Chu Yi looked straight at him.
“Mr. Chu, are you a Xuanmen Cultivator?” Yin Ming’s eyes held obvious doubt. Background checks showed Chu Yi’s twenty years as an ordinary person, yet this ordinary man had suddenly displayed astonishing occult talent.
Yin Ming was clearly adept at dealing with Mystic Gate Practitioners—expressing doubt appropriately without being roundabout enough to offend Chu Yi.
Chu Yi: “Sort of. I met a wandering healer in the countryside back then. He pitied me and taught me a few things.”
“I see.” Yin Ming took the hint and dropped it, whether he believed it or not.
At this point, Hou Feiguang spoke up. “Mr. Chu, the thing is, news of Xuanmen Cultivators and supernatural entities still existing isn’t suitable for ordinary people to know. It could cause societal panic.”
“I understand. After the founding of the country, no becoming spirits, right?” Chu Yi cracked a little joke.
Yu Qingxian’s phoenix eyes curved in amusement as he glanced at him. He had firsthand experience with Chu Yi’s mischief.
Hou Feiguang tugged at his lips. “Exactly.”
Yin Ming: “Regarding last night’s film crew incident, we’ve coordinated with Director Mo. He’ll announce it as a prop malfunction like a wind machine failure. As for the item in your possession, could you hand it over to us?”
Chu Yi was straightforward. “Sure.”
He went into the room and retrieved the Golden Bell Net from the box—a standard cake box with a cardboard base and transparent top. On closer look, the gold bell threaded through the red rope was still twitching.
Yin Ming did not dare underestimate it. “What’s this box? A Magic Artifact?”
Ouyang Yuyuan looked speechless. “I’ve seen this box before—it’s just the cake box from the crew’s extra meal, right?”
Even the patterns and English on it matched. How was this a magical artifact…
Director Mo stayed silent, clearly recognizing it too. So Young Master Chu liked these and took one back to the hotel? Should he have some delivered specially?
Chu Yi felt no embarrassment whatsoever. “Exactly, the outer box is an ordinary cake box. The Golden Bell Net inside is the Magic Artifact.”
“Can we take this Magic Artifact with us? We won’t take it for nothing—we’ll return it in a few days.” Yin Ming asked. Though they brought other containers, both were ordinary folk and preferred not to risk it.
“No need. It’s a gift for you.” Chu Yi was generous. He had made several from the last batch of materials bought, and now he had money—no more scrimping.
“Thank you, Mr. Chu.” Yin Ming and Hou Feiguang were delighted. Proper Magic Artifacts were scarce nowadays, and masters who could craft them even rarer. Most Xuanmen Cultivators used heirlooms from elders or ones dug from the earth.
For them, getting a magical artifact that could restrain a Golden Child for free was a pleasant surprise.
