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

In the realm of thrillers, there is a street known as Ghost Street. It’s home to countless aggrieved spirits and wicked ghosts. Despite its size of a mere street, it rivals some of the largest cities in scale.

Legend has it that there’s a particular group of ghosts residing on Ghost Street. They are vicious, ruthless, and violent. Most terrifying of all, they are incredibly poor!

Yes, poverty is indeed the greatest weapon in this world. The saying goes, "He who is barefoot isn’t afraid of those wearing shoes."

But what happens if you encounter a bunch of ruthless ghosts who owe hundreds of thousands, or even millions in mortgage debt? Everywhere they pass, nothing is left behind.

This group of ghosts are extremely frugal and would go to any lengths to eat and drink for free. Restaurants near Ghost Apartment have been bankrupted in the past few years, with the count definitely hitting double digits.

Moreover, this group is quite powerful. Even the weakest amongst them are evil spirits, while the most powerful include five ferocious ghosts of a much higher grade.

Hundreds of ruthless ghosts, five ferocious ones - they all happen to live together in Ghost Apartment, bonding over their shared poverty, making them incredibly united.

The most terrifying part? They reside in Ghost Apartment! This eighteen-story building is their home. Although they live on the bottom floor, they always seem to know a few tenants from the floors above.

Once, an ignorant ghost general caught one of the inhabitants of the Ghost Apartment. The very next day, three major ghost monarchs teamed up to visit him, slaughtering an entire district on the spot.

Since then, the saying "Ghost Street and Ghost Apartment are filled with powerful entities you’d best not provoke" echoes throughout the entire ghost city.

On regular days, when these poor ghosts venture out, all other ghosts make a detour. But today, it’s different. Over twenty of the Ghost Apartment’s poor ghosts, strutting with extremely arrogant steps, were seen on the main street.

Suddenly, the owners of more than a dozen shops were frightened to the point of wetting their pants.

One is already hard to deal with, let alone twenty! Any shop they enter is sure to go bankrupt.

"Hey, this pear looks good," said a burn victim ghost with bandages, casually picking up a black pear from a nearby stall, and asking the stall owner, "How much?"

"Er..." The stall owner was scared pale, repeatedly waving his hand, "Forget it, this one’s on the house!"

"What do you mean by that? You look down on me?" the burned ghost glared, his eyes only showing the whites.

"No, absolutely not!" The stall owner shook his head repeatedly, hesitated for a moment, then took a stack of ghost coins from his pocket: "How about I give you fifty ghost coins?"

He wasn’t being a pushover. With twenty poor ghosts staring at you, anyone would feel intimidated. This group is notorious for freeloading to the extreme, never spending a dime when they can help it.

Dealing with just one is enough, let alone twenty. Even if each one takes only a pear for free, it would still be unbearable!

"Why are you giving me money? I’m asking you how much this pear costs, I’m not short of money!" the burned ghost said angrily.

"Yes, yes, yes! You’re not short of money, how about I add another fifty? I really can’t give you any more!" The stall owner reluctantly proposed.

You’re joking, it’s just one floor, not ten! Are you telling me those who have owed mortgage for at least a decade or two aren’t short of money?

"Damn it!" The burned ghost cursed, pulling out a hundred-ghost-coin note and slamming it onto the stall owner’s face: "Take it for your pear, no change needed! Keep the rest as a tip!"

The stall owner was dumbfounded. Even after the ghosts left, he stood there blankly, looking at the ghost coin in his hand.

In his entire lifetime, he actually made a profit from that bunch of impoverished ghost tenants, even earning ninety ghost coins as a tip! He could boast about this for a lifetime!

On the other side, the burned ghost was gloating. He turned to his companions and asked, "Well, how was that? Cool or not, tell me if it was cool?"

"Awesome!" The drowned ghost extended his dripping hand, gave a thumbs-up, and asked, "How does it feel to be rich?"

"Needless to say, it’s bloody brilliant! Who would have thought we could have a day like this! Do you know how much I made from the last instance? Three thousand, a whole three thousand ghost coins! I’ve run it twice these past few days and made over six thousand!" The burned ghost said excitedly.

"Three thousand? That’s nothing. Your little instance isn’t enough! I ran one just a few days ago and made a whole five thousand ghost coins!" The head-carrying ghost, holding her head up high, smugly added.

Suddenly, all the evil ghosts began to talk about their own earnings.

The electrocuted ghost was also very excited. His body was covered with jumping electric arcs, causing the other ghosts to move back. The electrocuted ghost clenched his fists and shouted:

"Listen to me, everyone! Yes, we’ve made money! But as ghosts, we must not forget our roots! We must not forget who guided us and made us so rich! If we are brothers, we cannot forget the benefactor!"

"Of course! Aren’t we going to stand up for our brother? The chosen one is often bullied in the thriller instance, especially by the ghosts at the Ghost Restaurant. Not a single good one among them. Our brother must be suffering there, unable to eat or sleep well, who knows how he’s being bullied!"

The head-carrying ghost, holding her head high, said assertively: "Let’s go, stand up for our brother! Whoever dares to bully my brother, I’ll be the first one to twist his head off!"

"And me! If anyone bullies my brother, I’ll pull out all his bones!"

"You guys are too cruel. Scraping them off would be better. I’ll do it, I was a roast duck chef in my previous life!"

"Why the chatter? If you’re brothers, come with me and fight the ghosts!"

A large group of ghosts, in a grand procession, stormed towards the restaurant.

As ghost lords, they knew all about the character of the thriller instance. Although they knew through Su Rong’s contract that Alexander was safe for now, thinking about their own instances made them realize their benefactor must be suffering terribly.

Need it be said? He’s certainly being scared into a corner by a group of ghosts, who knows if any of them have already made a move.

Biting off an arm, gouging out an eye, those are basic moves.

Though as long as you don’t die, you can recover using ghostly means.

But when they thought of their benefactor being scared by ghosts, gnawed at, and variously tortured, looking terrible, they felt their hearts twist in agony, a surge of anger growing within them.

Upon reaching the Ghost Restaurant, looking at the decorative lights at the entrance, their anger escalated further.

It would be great if their own instances had such things, after all, they were astonishingly expensive. But seeing them here, it made them feel a bit uncomfortable!

If it weren’t for Alexander, they would still be the poorest ghosts at the bottom, working hard for a month, barely able to cover their mortgages, frugal when dining out, even dine and dash to save a penny, ruining their reputation.

Now, they had finally risen! Each time, they could earn several thousand ghost coins, conservatively speaking, three to five times a month could yield tens of thousands, even more.

From impoverished tenants to wealthy ghosts, who could understand this feeling!

Yet the benefactor, who had guided them and made all this possible, was inside, suffering from hunger, pain, and fear!

"I’m here!" The more the ghosts thought about it, the angrier they became. The electrocuted ghost roared, his body erupting with electricity, and smashed the restaurant door with a loud bang. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

The head-carrying ghost raised her arm, hoisted the skull and shouted loudly: "Who’s the manager? How dare you bully my brother! Roll out and meet your doom!"

Inside the restaurant, it was silent. After a while, Alexander, just having been pinned with a manager’s badge, emerged with a peculiar expression:

"Drowned ghost? Head-carrying ghost? Electrocuted ghost?"

"I’m the manager, what are you here for?"