The moment the blue flames of the *Gui Baojini* sliced through the final intersection, the ghost road folded behind Joseph like a vanishing dream.  

He eased off the accelerator and let the car drift to a stop in front of *Ghost-Steed Motors*. The twin escort drivers, phantasmal chauffeurs assigned by Morvian himself, pulled in neatly ahead of him—their engines purring like tamed beasts.  

The entire circuit had taken less than an hour. No obstacles, no horrors, no traps.  

The “trial,” as it turned out, had been pure theater.

Joseph stepped out, stretching lazily. “That’s it? Easiest million I ever spent.”  

Morvian came rushing out of the showroom, pretending to look impressed rather than terrified. “A flawless run! Truly remarkable, Mr. Gates. You handled her like a spirit born to speed.”  

“Good,” Joseph said flatly. “Now, let’s talk business.”

They walked back into the main hall. The neon blood-letters above the door dimmed back to black. Joseph’s gaze wandered across rows of floating cars—their polished frames gleaming like wet mirrors. Every single one was unsold.

He smiled faintly. “How much for the dealership?”  

Morvian straightened his tie and tried to recover his swagger. “Five… fifty million Mingbi,” he said carefully. “Anything less and I couldn’t possibly part with it.”

Joseph ran a hand along the hood of the blue Gui Baojini. The car purred at his touch. He looked around—at the showroom empty of customers, at the faintly flickering signs.

“Fifty million, huh?” he murmured. “And how many buyers have you had this week?”

Morvian hesitated. “None.”

“This month?”

A longer pause. “…Also none.”

Joseph turned, smirking. “You’re selling luxuries in a dying world. Nobody’s buying cars, Morvian. Not now. But in the months ahead? When the hierarchy of ghosts settles, when status and speed start to matter again—these will be gold.”  

His eyes gleamed. “That’s why I’m buying.”  

He folded his arms. “Tell me—how many dealerships do you own in this city?”

Morvian blinked. “Eight. Including this one.”

Joseph didn’t even hesitate. “Three hundred million Mingbi. I’ll take all eight. No haggling. But if you hesitate, I walk away.”

For a moment, Morvian’s mechanical heart skipped a beat. *Three hundred million…?*  

It wasn’t far below their total worth—but those eight stores were bleeding him dry.  

Each showroom devoured Mingbi daily: staff salaries, maintenance fuel for the cars, the rent tax paid to the Rule-Court. And sales? None. The Collapse had destroyed the luxury market. He’d been moments away from selling off ghost blood just to keep the lights on.  

Three hundred million was less than perfect—but it was salvation.  

Morvian’s jaw clenched. The inner needles of his eyes spun wildly. “All eight, you say?”

Joseph smiled. “All eight. I don’t buy in pieces. I buy in empires.”

The ghost dealer exhaled slowly. His hands trembled as he reached for the contract scroll. “Very well, Mr. Gates. You have a deal.”  

In the air between them, eight shimmering documents unfolded—each representing one of the city’s *Ghost-Steed Motors* branches. Taragan, standing just behind Joseph, already had a quill of bone prepared.

Joseph didn’t blink. He pressed his thumb to the page; the blood that welled up wasn’t red—it shimmered faintly gold. The documents ignited, absorbed into the unseen registry of the underworld.  

One after another, the dealerships’ ownership seals flared—and turned the same color as the Mingbi burning inside him.  

> **Transaction Complete.**  

> **Properties Registered: 8**  

> **Designation: Human Merchant — Category: Ghost-Domain Proprietor.**

Morvian watched the last seal vanish. The deed was done. His eight stores—his life’s work—were now under a living man’s name. Relief mingled with disbelief on his face.

Joseph dusted his hands. “Pleasure doing business.”

“Y-yes,” Morvian said faintly. “You’ve just become the largest automotive merchant in the entire district.”  

“Good,” Joseph said. “Because I don’t plan to stop there.”

He stepped toward the showroom window, gazing out at the dark horizon. The collapsed skyscrapers glimmered with blue veins of ghostlight. “Soon this city will stabilize. Ghosts will crave symbols of power again. Cars, watches, gold—anything that makes them *feel alive.* I’ll be there to sell it all.”

Morvian, still stunned, managed a hoarse chuckle. “You’re either brilliant… or suicidal.”

Joseph smirked. “Why not both?”  

He turned to Taragan. “Manager, note this down—transfer all showroom profits into a central account. And find me the next opportunity.”

Taragan bowed, the shadows bending with him. “Understood, sir.”

Joseph glanced once more at Morvian. “Enjoy your early retirement, friend. You just sold your afterlife for a fortune.”

Morvian exhaled with shaky laughter. “At least I’ll die rich.”

Joseph slipped on his sunglasses—the same ones he wore in the living world—and walked out into the night, the blue Gui Baojini humming at his side.  

The city lights bent as he passed.  

And somewhere in the dark, unseen eyes whispered his new title—  

> **“The Merchant of Ghosts.”**