As the three entered the factory.
"Hello, you... who are you looking for?"
A Rakshasa Cult employee suddenly saw several strangers barge in and hurried forward to ask.
"We're not looking for anyone. We want to take a look at your factory's ghost money."
"Oh, so you're here to buy ghost money. Please wait a moment."
The employee sighed in relief.
The three varied in height, yet each carried an imposing aura.
He himself was a second-rank Spirit Wielder, but before these people, he could not muster even the slightest improper thought.
Very soon, Wang Zhidong, who had remained behind to guard the factory, rushed over upon hearing the news.
"You're here to buy ghost money, right? Next time, you can go directly to the newly opened Hall of Benevolent Aid in the north of the city. But since you're already here today, how much would you like to buy?"
"Hall of Benevolent Aid?" The refined-looking man smiled faintly. "This name pleases me."
"Me?"
The instant he heard that form of address, Wang Zhidong's heart abruptly tightened.
In this world, what sort of person dared call himself that?
The tall, powerfully built man beside him coldly cut in, "Enough nonsense. Take us over there to have a look first. Whether we buy or not depends on what we see."
Wang Zhidong immediately sensed that something was wrong and instinctively backed away several steps. "You... who exactly are you people?"
"Hmm?!"
The tall man gave a low snort.
"Whoosh—"
In an instant, an unimaginable and terrifying power swept through the entire factory.
Everyone seemed frozen solid, unable to move.
Even the dust floating in the air and the branches swaying outside the windows were completely fixed in place at that moment.
Only Wang Zhidong remained able to move.
His legs gave