Chapter 839: line with translation of chapter title

NO．208: An exhausting day, beginning with a female ghost clinging to me

Hey! What did you do again?

When the classic black‑haired female ghost, long absent from sight, appeared with a weary face as if a living being had stayed up all night, Aomo was sliding his finger across the news portal of the Jiemen district on the electronic screen.

No need to seek it out specially; the headline 'Illegal Installation of Touch‑Trigger Neutron Bomb?! Police Headquarters Dispatches Bomb Squad Late at Night to Jiemen Suburb, Monster Fever Enterprise Park!' sits on the front page of the legal section, and clicking it opens a richly illustrated report, complete with on‑site photos of the enterprise park, footage of the bomb squad at work, and even a clickable video link.

It was as if a daring, dedicated reporter had rushed to the scene, recording every detail without omission.

But in this era, it is evidently more likely that drones are making the effort.

Yet this report clearly focuses entirely on describing the bomb squad's professionalism and dedication; throughout it is fluff meant to claim credit, and seeing that the author's byline belongs to the police publicity office makes perfect sense.

Aomo didn't mind that his and Sai Luo's photos were missing; in fact, it was better that way, since informants in such vicious cases are usually kept anonymous to avoid dragging the involved parties into the spotlight and adding trouble.

Genuine thanks, commendation, and even rewards are carried out in private, just as Bixi Tecks and her subordinates had left the office only a few minutes earlier.

Naturally, this procedure usually has nothing to do with Teqiju; Bixi Tecks coming to liaise is essentially either because the higher‑ups considered Aomo's personal connections in his file, or because Bixi Tecks herself volunteered.

Of course, the possibility of both factors combined isn't nonexistent, but Aomo doesn't care about it.

As for Xi, she cared a lot about it; after the group left, she eagerly pointed out and commented on their operation of mooching breakfast.

That's tantamount to adding a crime, after all the invitation was originally Aomo's own suggestion.

Although it might seem unexpected that this busy bunch would agree, he too is 'battle‑hardened', and handling a temporary increase in kitchen work is right up his alley.

But these are merely trivial everyday matters, insignificant compared with the upcoming work inspection.

If one asks what the work inspection entails, for a trainer it is naturally the horse‑girls' race, while for a mercenary it is the battle that inevitably follows a commissioned mission—so Aomo used a safe, swift transfer to take Xi to school, then rode his motorcycle to the academy.

To achieve a decent result, even if he lacked sleep he couldn't rest. Just as he was now staying in the activity room—though he'd rather curl up on the sofa for a nap, he still pulled up yesterday's news section.

Then he was approached by a female ghost with an even worse complexion.

"What ghost! I'm alive!"

"Oh, a living ghost."

"You bastard! Tell me honestly what you did last night! The association has given me new orders again!"

Zhouri Ningjing, the committee member baring her teeth and claws, lunged as if to unleash a frenzied grapple, but Aomo, quick to react, caught her with both hands.

Yet this easily turned into a struggle; Linton's trainer disadvantage was obvious, since the embodied Zhouri Ningjing possessed strength surpassing that of the university horse‑girls, as previously noted: 'even after retirement, she still maintains her physical fitness and meets the physique requirements of a horse‑girl.'

Naturally, Aomo doubted the purity of her training.

If it were Rudolf, he'd probably find time to hit the gym or his own training ground, but someone like Zhouri Ningjing, who outright despises the Saichang, when her soul wanders about, her body is mostly soaking in some vat somewhere.

Whether with potions or nutrient solutions to keep bodily indices stable, this purely technological maintenance method is not uncommon among mercenaries, though it's costly—certainly not something the poor can afford.

Under normal circumstances, a retired horse‑girl's chance of poverty is extremely low; Aomo, having frequented her upscale café catering to elites, had no doubt about her 'rich‑lady index'.

But every time he saw her, he thought, wealth doesn't guarantee good breeding.

Just like now, with the woman pressing both hands down on him like a savage, as if to crush him into the sofa, it made him consider whether to call upon nature's power again.

But at that moment, all he heard was a swish!

The activity room's door was shoved open in one swift motion.

「」

Silence fell; the two in the room turned together toward the doorway, where they saw Mi Yu pulling Bōlán's wrist—she showed a rare burst of brave decisiveness at the instant the door opened, but when she met their gazes she first froze, then her face flushed red.

"This is Miss Zhouri Ningjing." Behind her, thanks to her height advantage, she saw Mǐpǔ Bōlán in the room and, in her usual unchanging tone, spoke as if introducing her.

Those words helped the red‑faced little girl snap to attention; she shouted, voice trembling more than usual yet loud: "Sorry for the interruption!!"

Having said that, she slammed the door shut.

The thudding, muffled sound was clear proof that her petite frame was still that of a horse‑girl.

This strange reaction also made the two of them glance at each other, then their eyes fell on their hands, tightly interlaced in the struggle.

Of course, honestly speaking, the more direct visual manifestation was still their posture.

Aomo, already seated on the sofa, was now being pressed down by Zhouri Ningjing's two hands—no need to elaborate, for in the next second his arms and torso leaned back slightly, letting her unconsciously lean forward in surprise, at which point his feet lifted and rested against her lower abdomen.

Even earlier, the bracelet that had slipped from his cuff flashed a serpentine red light.

Bang!

A blunt kick announced the end of the ambiguous pose.

"Look at you, scaring someone else's little girl."

Without even glancing at the woman kicked to the far end of the classroom, Aomo rose and headed for the door, trying to clear up the misunderstanding.

But Zhouri Ningjing, who should have been pinned to the corner of ceiling and wall by the Rainbow Snake God's wind pressure, instead came lunging like an evil spirit, shouting: "Aomo Linton! You bastard, you ambushed me!"

In order to retaliate at a moment's notice, she simply broke free of her restrained flesh—a perfectly natural choice for a ghost cultivator.

The Evil Spirit Knight's kick reappeared, and Aomo, with his back to her, silently pulled with both hands, enlarging his usual light screen just enough for a person to slip through—

—then he yanked the light screen back, placing it between himself and Zhouri Ningjing.

That kick struck the light screen, making a faint surprised sound as it entered, then was completely swallowed by the screen.

The next second, with his hands already in his pockets, Aomo shut down the terminal.

That smooth little combo for banishing spirits works very well when he's alone.

But unfortunately…

"Miss Mi Yu, I think you've misunderstood."

He pushed the door open again, Aomo gave his usual friendly smile, and looked at the black‑haired little girl still squatting by the door, listening to Bōlán's explanation.

Then he saw a plume of black air rising from her pocket; within it, only the upper body of Zhouri Ningjing showed normal proportions, while the lower part grew ever thinner as if being squeezed.

"Oh… it's the Aladdin Divine Machine…"

"Who are you talking about! Go die!"