As long as you have the courage, fierce ghosts go on maternity leave.

In the realm of Imperial-level ghosts, you’ll find all sorts—those with short tempers, the fearless, all kinds of characters. The one rarity is Fools. Absolute idiots are scarce.

declared Abigail, eliciting a collective moment of enlightenment among the gathered specters.

Initially, they’d entertained the idea of plundering Alexander’s remarkable talents. Yet none had fathomed just how phenomenal those talents would turn out to be.

Had they known, perhaps they would have resorted to every possible scheme to snatch his gifts for themselves. But the opportunity had now clearly passed; Alexander’s power had solidified into a formidable force, buttressed by the support of the city’s lord mansion.

"But if we can’t beat him, why not join him? Just look at the Fierce Ghost Association," a ghost remarked.

"The Fierce Ghost Association had started out as nothing more than a band of street ruffians, the dregs even lower in status than ordinary ghost citizens. And now, they’ve all ascended to the rank of Ghost Kings—in less than three months! In comparison, we’ve labored for centuries to cultivate our Imperial-level strength."

"Thanks for the heads-up," Benjamin, second in rank only to Abigail among the Ghost Imperials, advised the crowd. "We’ve already offended Alexander today, so joining him won’t be a walk in the park.

We must show goodwill, and plenty of it. Later, lay all your cards on the table. Given Alexander’s top-tier talents, joining him will be profitable—even if it bankrupts us."

Heads nodded, the consensus unanimous. "Abigail is right! We must join, and damn any loss of face!"

"What’s a little pride worth anyway? Look at Sam! He was a nobody back in the Happiness Clinic, not even a lord ghost. Now he’s ascended to the Imperial level. If we join and put in a few years, we might even rise to become Ghost Emperors!"

"This time, we can’t afford to be stingy. We must demonstrate our utmost sincerity!"

....

"The auction is about to begin, please make your way inside!" Just as the group was in deep discussion, Foreskin from the Fierce Ghost Association approached to make the announcement.

Despite his newfound status as a Ghost King, Foreskin’s origins as a mere thug shone through. Facing an assembly of Imperial-level ghosts, he was naturally nervous, worried that they might turn hostile on a whim.

"What’s your name, my friend?" Abigail inquired, wearing a congenial smile—a complete surprise for Foreskin.

"I... I’m Foreskin." Caught off guard by the senior Imperial ghost’s courtesy, Foreskin became visibly flustered.

"Foreskin, what a name, what an excellent name!" Benjamin exclaimed, warmly embracing Foreskin. "I admire your flair for imaginative naming. The auction is starting, right? Let’s chat as we walk."

Foreskin was thoroughly disoriented by Benjamin’s affable demeanor. It took a moment for him to realize that these guests were likely awed by the Chairman’s formidable power.

As long as they weren’t here to cause trouble, their odd behavior could be overlooked.

"Please, follow me," Foreskin said, smiling.

If the entrance of over a thousand Ghost Kings riding motorcycles was a display of sheer might that had shaken them, what followed was an ostentatious flex of financial clout.

Upon setting foot on the hill, a thick atmosphere of ghostly energy enveloped them—an intensity even the Imperial-level ghosts found staggering. The pathway was paved with blood-stained ceramic tiles, and every half meter, there were lamps shaped like human heads.

At the summit was a vast plaza, again floored with blood-stained ceramic, lit by skull-shaped lamps. Every so often, arms, as white as bone, emerged from the ground, grasping aimlessly.

And surrounding the entire plaza were everlasting lamps, the kind you’d find at the entrance of ghostly restaurants—no fewer than twenty thousand of them.

This scene, in any other context, would be the epitome of horror. But from the perspective of the ghosts, this was not horror; it was opulence, sheer unadulterated opulence.

The blood-stained flooring from the base of the hill to its summit and across the plaza was worth more than a billion ghost coins. The everlasting lamps were even more lavish; in a supermarket, one would go for half a million ghost coins. Here, they encircled the entire plaza as if money were no object.

"This is... extravagance to the extreme!"

Benjamin and Abigail exchanged envious glances, their voices tinged with bitterness, "If they’re already this wealthy, what’s the point of holding an auction? Even if we pooled all our instances together, we wouldn’t be willing to part with so many plug-ins."

Instances were crucial in their spiritual ascent until they reached the King level. The fear value generated by the instance allowed for a rapid accumulation of ghost energy—the higher the fear value, the faster the rate of improvement.

However, after reaching the King level, the amount of ghost energy required became astronomical, making it less important to gather energy from instance.

Thus, after one became a Ghost Imperial, there were hardly any who would splurge on embellishing their instance. Instead, that ghost currency would be better spent on artifacts useful in mist instance.

"Extravagant? Not in the least," Foreskin responded, a member of the Fierce Ghost Association who had grown accustomed to Alexander’s habits.

"These are all items worth less than a million ghost coins. Our Honorary Chairman said they’re inconsequential."

The gathered crowd collectively swallowed. Earlier, they had boldly declared their willingness to go bankrupt to foster a closer relationship with Alexander—but that was more metaphorical than literal.

Especially for these Ghost Imperials, who had amassed resources over centuries. Some even had financial power not far off from that of the City Lord’s Mansion.

They had initially assumed that a nascent force like Alexander’s, no matter how strong, couldn’t possibly have much in the way of assets due to the lack of time for accumulation.

Now they realized just how egregiously wrong they had been.

....

The vast semi-circular structure was crowned with a dazzling chandelier in the shape of a skull, illuminating the whole edifice as if it were day.

Rows of seats were neatly arranged, filled with Ghost Kings and Ghost Princes.

Even the presence of generals was not to be scoffed at, for they all bore the same special identity: ghost city merchants.

These individuals were essentially private forces belonging to the various Ghost City Lords and had many hidden protectors.

"Good evening, esteemed guests! Today’s auction will be hosted by me, Honorary Chairman Tommy DeVito! If anything displeases you during the event, please afford me some courtesy," announced Alexander, who materialized in the auction hall in the blink of an eye.

"Tommy DeVito? What a peculiar name. Hosting such an important auction with just a soldier-level chosen one? Give him some courtesy?

Isn’t Dark Hell’s top force mainly based on apartments? What is this Fierce Ghost Association?" A male ghost in the front row, sitting behind various Ghost Imperials, questioned perplexedly.

Sitting in front of him were Benjamin and Abigail, both of whom had just arrived with Foreskin. They were seated in the front row, casting icy glances backward.

Having just resolved to join Alexander’s force, the last thing they needed was someone tarnishing the reputation of their future boss. The several people around them glared back.

When they realized that the one who had spoken was merely a general-level ghost, their brows furrowed further.

"Watch your tongue. This time, I’ll let it go, owing to your status. Remember, not everyone is someone you can afford to offend," Abigail icily retorted.

The hall was packed, representing over 80% of Dark Hell’s Ghost Imperials. The front two rows consisted mainly of apartment owners and their confidants. Such figures in Dark Hell didn’t have to give face to anyone.

To be able to sit in this position with only a general-level ability underlined his special status: a ghost city merchant.

The ghost city merchants were a unique profession. Due to their role, specialty goods could flow between the various ghost cities, akin to early Earth traders.

Moreover, these ghost city merchants represented their respective City Lords. Such merchants were not something every small city could afford. Therefore, most people offered them respect, even if the merchants weren’t particularly powerful.

The ghost who had spoken was named Zane, and indeed, he was a novice ghost city merchant.

His talent was a rare spatial one, known as Memory Anchor Points. With this, he could plant anchor points in places he’d visited.

By imagining the surroundings of these anchor points in his mind, he could directly teleport a small number of people or items to that specific location.

Among ghost city merchants, this was indeed uncommon.

Most ghost city merchants possessed abilities that either allowed them to evade hell warriors or to sense their presence in advance. People with these types of talents typically received investments from their respective ghost city administrations.

They were provided with expensive storage artifacts and given a security detail, all set to embark on inter-city trading ventures. Such storage artifacts were incredibly precious commodities in the horror world.

There was a time when the allure of these valuable artifacts and the staggering profits of ghost city merchants attracted legions of malevolent spirits to hunt them down. The carnage was such that even Ghost Emperors joined in the hunt, attesting to the magnitude of the stakes involved.

However, the losses incurred led the city lord to join forces and exterminate these hunters, thus elevating ghost city merchants to a specialized occupation.

But not all ghost city merchants were cut from the same cloth. Some were far more advanced, equipped with certain artifacts or talents that enabled them to teleport across spatial dimensions rapidly. These select few needed only a smattering of storage artifacts to amass astonishing wealth in ghost coins.

The existence of ghost city merchants like these allowed every city lord hosting one to accumulate vast riches. Then, of course, there was the third kind, or rather, an advanced version of the second.

This was the category to which Zane belonged—capable of not just inter-city teleportation but also of transporting goods. He was undeniably a stock full of potential.

In reality, Zane hailed from Yan City and had been a ghost city merchant for less than two months; this was merely his fifth business transaction.

However, due to his immense potential as a ghost city merchant and having the backing of a top-tier entity like Yan Emperor, Zane had developed a sense of arrogance despite his short tenure.

He wouldn’t pay heed to anyone below the rank of Ghost King, only engaging in conversation with those at the Ghost Imperial level.

But arrogance had its place—and it wasn’t here and now.

Currently, finding himself under the scrutinizing gazes of more than a dozen Ghost Imperials, how could he not be afraid? It wasn’t just Zane who was perturbed; the Ghost Imperial accompanying him were equally unsettled.

One hurriedly tugged on the sleeve of a nearby Ghost King and whispered, "Who exactly is this Tommy DeVito? Isn’t he a chosen one?

I know only you folks in Dark Hell still have such individuals, but aren’t they considered weaklings, fit only to be food for lower-level ghosts and a source of ghostly energy? The one on the stage doesn’t seem all that powerful!"

The one addressed was evidently not one of Abigail’s subordinates, and while he did not display overt hostility, he also didn’t mince words. Quietly, he advised, "Let me give you a piece of advice: watch your mouth!

Chosen ones or weaklings, you think being a Ghost Imperial gives you the right to be arrogant? Don’t forget that this is Dark Hell, and the person on stage is Alexander. I suggest you inquire about him. In Dark Hell, Alexander is almost a god-like entity!"