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

"Liu Yang, where are you going?" Song Xinxue asked casually.

"The water pipe on the 15th floor of Building C is broken, I'll go take a look." Liu Yang scratched his head. "Sister Song, are you off work?"

"Not yet, I'm delivering a gift bag for Manager He." Song Xinxue shook the gift bag in her hand, then suddenly remembered something, "Liu Yang, which buildings are you responsible for?"

"Building C and Building D," Liu Yang replied.

Song Xinxue's heart skipped a beat, and she handed him the gift bag: "Could you deliver this for me? It's for the residents on the 21st floor. Your housekeeper is on leave and happens to be in your area."

Liu Yang hesitated for a moment, then took the gift bag, his face turning even redder: "Okay, okay, no problem. Don't worry, Sister Song, I'll definitely deliver it."

"Thank you." Song Xinxue smiled, turned around and left.

Liu Yang stood there, watching her back, grinning foolishly for several seconds before picking up the gift bag and walking toward the elevator.

Fan Hai's apartment is located on the 21st floor of Building C.

In the living room, a young woman sat on the sofa, wearing a sundress, her hair loose, and her nails painted bright red. She was a minor model that Fan Hai had recently been "dating," but he couldn't remember her name. Anyway, he could change her every few days as long as he had money.

He coldly ordered the woman in front of him, "Go stay in the bedroom and don't make a sound. I'll find you a girlfriend to play with later. If you dare to make a sound, you won't get a single penny."

The woman trembled and nodded hurriedly, "I...I understand, Mr. Fan."

Doorbell rang.

Fan Hai's eyes lit up, and he sprang up from the sofa, quickly walking to the door. He didn't open the door immediately, but instead went to the coffee table, took out the dark red incense stick from the box, and lit it with a lighter.

A delicate, sweet fragrance wafted up and dispersed in the air, almost invisible.

He glanced at it with satisfaction, strode to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.

The person standing outside the door stunned him.

It was a young man, wearing a property management uniform, carrying a gift bag.

"Who are you?" Fan Hai asked impatiently.

Liu Yang was startled by his fierce appearance, but still forced a smile and said, "Hello sir, I'm Liu Yang from the property management department. Your personal butler is on leave today, so I'm bringing over the gift on his behalf."

Fan Hai's face immediately darkened. He stared at Liu Yang for several seconds, then looked at the gift bag in his hand, and suddenly understood something.

"Who sent you?"

"It was arranged by Manager He..." Liu Yang felt uneasy under his gaze.

Fan Hai snatched the gift bag and threw it on the ground. "Get out!"

Liu Yang was so frightened that he turned and ran into the elevator, his heart still pounding.

He pressed the button for the first floor, and the moment the elevator doors closed, he heard a muffled thud in the hallway, like something had been smashed.

Fan closed the door and kicked over the coffee table. Teacups, ashtrays, and fruit plates crashed to the floor.

He then grabbed a blue-and-white porcelain vase from the living room and smashed it on the ground. He had bought it at an auction for 800,000 yuan; it was supposedly a Qing Dynasty imperial porcelain vase, displayed in the living room to show off.

The vase shattered into pieces. He smashed another, and another. The living room was a complete mess.

Hearing the noise, the little mannequin in the bedroom peeked out, then shrank back in fright.

After smashing things, Fan Hai stood in the center of the living room, his chest heaving. He was breathing heavily, his eyes bloodshot. "Song Xinxue, you're something else. You're really something."

He thought he had been patient enough, pursuing her seriously by sending flowers, taking her out to dinner, and giving her gifts—he had shown all the necessary sincerity.

She wouldn't give him face; he arranged for her to come over for work, but she refused. He had someone trick her into coming, but she had someone deliver the package instead.

Every time, she was as slippery as an eel, making him punch nothing but cotton.

He walked to the liquor cabinet, picked up an unopened bottle of whiskey, unscrewed the cap, and took a few gulps. The pungent liquid burned his throat, but he didn't care. He wiped his mouth, went into the study, and opened the innermost cabinet.

There was an evil statue enshrined in the cabinet.

The statue was about a foot tall, entirely black, with a ferocious face, three eyes, and six arms, each holding something—a knife, a skull, a snake, or an unidentified bone. It seemed to be laughing, yet also angry, and a single glance sent chills down one's spine.

This is a type of Kumanthong (a type of spirit child) brought back from South Asia. It is believed to bring wealth, change one's luck, and resolve all misfortunes. I spent 500,000 yuan to bring it back and keep it in my study, offering incense to it during festivals.

In his early years, when he was involved in shady dealings, he learned some feng shui and sorcery from a wandering sorcerer. He could control souls and ghosts, and he made his fortune through these secret arts over the years. However, he no longer uses them easily.

Now that Song Xinxue has pushed him to this point, he can't care about anything else.

Now it seems it's time to put it to good use.

Fan Hai stared at the evil statue, a cold smile curving his lips.

Fan Hai pulled a cloth bag from the cabinet, containing a small bottle of black oil, a few black threads, and a piece of yellow paper covered with talismans.

First, obtain the target's birth date and time, write it on yellow paper, then tie it with black thread, apply black oil, and chant an incantation. This will drive out two "little ghosts" to find the target. Once possessed, the little ghosts can control the target's every move.

Fan Hai took out his phone and sent a message to He Zhongwei: "Manager He, do you have the information that Song Xinxue filled out when she joined the company? I need her birth date and time."

After sending the message, He Zhongwei replied quite a while later: "President Fan, what do you need this for?"

"Stop talking nonsense, are you going to give it to me or not?"

After a long silence, a message arrived. Fan Hai opened it and saw a photo of Song Xinxue's employment registration form.

The name, ID number, home address, and date of birth were all complete. He converted the birth date and time into the Chinese zodiac (Bazi) and wrote it down on yellow paper.

Then wrap the black thread around the yellow paper and apply black oil.

He sat cross-legged in front of the evil statue, closed his eyes, and began chanting the incantation. The syllables were obscure and difficult to pronounce, and he stumbled over his words, making mistakes several times and starting over. When he chanted it for the seventh time, he suddenly felt the temperature in the room drop.

He opened his eyes.

The black oil lamp in front of the evil statue flickered, its flame turning an eerie green. Then, two wisps of black mist drifted out of the flame, slowly condensing in the air into two blurry human figures—no, not human figures, but ghostly figures. They had no faces, no features, just a pitch-black mass, yet one could feel them "watching" him.

Fan Hai pointed to the birth date and time written on the yellow paper and said in a sinister voice, "Go, bring her here."

Two dark figures drifted out of the window and disappeared into the night.