Wang Xian said nothing.
Most people had never seen a skill book. How would they know it existed? In most games before the digitization, instructors handed down skills. Buying skills like some street vendor peddling secrets? Not something the average player would even consider.
Without a word, he pulled two worn leather-bound tomes from his pack and tossed them to Cheng Yao.
One glowed faintly with a radiant symbol — [Holy Light Strike].The other shimmered with pale blue text — [Healing].
[Healing]Restores 100 HP + 10% of magic attack.Casting: InstantMP Cost: 30Cooldown: 2 seconds
Not flashy. Not elegant. Just enough to keep someone from dying.
Wang Xian knew from experience: when your lungs were full of blood and a monster was closing in, even that little healing felt like heaven.
Cheng Yao read the skills, snorted, and said with her usual bluntness, "Uncle, this healing's trash. My Mizuki Qinghua is way stronger. Are priests always this... pathetic?"
A sharp cough cut her off.
Cheng Yao froze.
She had forgotten. Wang Xian's mother — full-time priest, part-time devil in an apron — was standing right behind her.
"Auntie, I didn't mean—"
"It's fine," Wang Xian's mother said with a smile that did not reach her eyes.
Cheng Yao shrank under her gaze. She looked like she would rather fight three ghosts than endure another awkward silence.
Wang Xian rescued her with a pointed gesture. "Forget the lecture. Use that Holy Light Strike on that wandering soul. Now."
Cheng Yao obeyed.
Light flashed. A beam of searing holy energy fell from the sky like divine punishment, striking the ghost clean through the chest.
−304
It reeled, its ethereal body flaring as if the light peeled back its form like wet paper.
She cast again.
−304
But she was too slow to move. The soul lunged forward, phasing through her body like smoke sliding through bone.
−232
Cheng Yao froze.
Her skin went pale in an instant. She stood there, shaking.
Wang Xian didn't hesitate. A bolt of thunder cracked down from above, exploding on the ghost's back with a roar.
−460
The ghost shrieked, wild and rage-filled.
The others followed.
−231 — Nangong Wu's fireball−89 — Feng Luoli's wind blade−73 — Yue Rushuang's ice spike−340 — Su Jin's fireball, hotter than expected
The ghost reeled, its form flickering like a flame in heavy wind, then whipped its body toward Cheng Yao again.
It wanted her.
It remembered the pain.
Wang Xian raised a hand. Fire surged.
−199
The ghost exploded into nothing, scattering sparks like ash in the wind.
Cheng Yao blinked once.
Twice.
Then let out a sob and flung herself into Wang Xian's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Her body trembled with each breath, the memory of cold death still clinging to her skin.
"It's alright," he whispered, one hand gently patting her back. "It's dead. Just a wild monster, nothing more."
It was a lie.
The ghost hadn't been just anything. It had been her first real death brushing up close. The real kind — not the kind you respawn from.
The others gathered around quietly. No one teased her. No one smiled.
Eventually, she calmed. Red-eyed but resolute.
"You'll have to get used to this," Wang Xian said to her, then turned to the group. His voice dropped. "And all of you — don't hit one first. If you're not ready, it'll kill you."
He locked eyes with Nangong Wu. "That means you, too."
They understood.
They'd seen the damage.
The soul had nearly killed Cheng Yao in one strike. If one of them had drawn aggro, the outcome would've been worse. They didn't have the defense. They didn't have the HP.
"Got it," they all murmured.
"Good," Wang Xian nodded. "That said — don't be scared. If we focus, we can take them down fast. I go first. You follow up. Don't mess around. Kill clean. Kill fast."
They nodded again. Tighter this time.
The next ghost appeared.
Wang Xian lifted a hand.
Lightning speared it from above. The ghost howled.
The girls responded like clockwork — fire, wind, frost, light. No wasted movement. No hesitation.
The ghost evaporated.
Then another.
And another.
One by one, they cut them down.
Even Wang Xian's mother, usually the most reserved, decided to act. She stepped forward and cast Holy Light Strike for the first time.
The light flashed—
−0
The number hovered above the ghost like a cruel joke.
Silence.
A second passed.
Then Wang Xian burst into laughter. "You actually healed it with holy light?!"
The others giggled.
And then came the scream.
"AAAAHHHHHH—"
Wang Xian hit the dirt, still laughing, while his mother stormed toward him, eyes blazing.
"You dare—!?"
She grabbed his ear and twisted.
"OW OW OW OKAY I'M SORRY!"
In the middle of a ghost-infested field, under the flickering holy light, the night echoed with pained laughter and scolding.
Somehow, even surrounded by death, the living still knew how to laugh.