Francesc froze when he heard my words, momentarily confused by my abrupt suggestion that he should strip naked and run around the village.
Francesc frowned and said, "Roger, old boy, what... do you mean by this?"
"It doesn't mean anything, just a random comment. I don't think I can beat you anyway, old man. You're Ghost Police, after all." I patted myself on the back as I spoke.
Francesc grew even more bewildered. "So you're still making a bet with me?"
I hemmed and hawed before answering, "Actually, it's just a casual wager. This sword—I just wanted to take a turn giving it to you, old brother, and maybe make friends in the process. Being friends with Ghost Police—now that's dignified! I'd be lucky to have a third life!"
The blatant flattery went straight to Francesc's head, making him so giddy he probably forgot who he was.
"Ah, Roger, old brother, that's more like it. How could I take something for nothing? Your sword—I'll win it back fair and square. I accept your conditions." Francesc then muttered under his breath, "Whether you intend to lose to me or not, you're bound to lose."
I sneered inwardly. We'll see about that. After what Jeane had told me, I could already see through his tricks.
"Roger, old brother, if we're going to gamble, let's keep it simple—one toss to decide the winner." Francesc pulled out a coin and asked me to choose heads or tails.
I didn't hesitate. "Tails," I said, remembering Jeane's warning that both sides of the coin were patterned.
Francesc's face remained expressionless, save for the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Are you sure? If you're sure, I'll flip it now." His clenched fist hovered, ready to reveal the result the moment I confirmed.
"Wait, I'm not sure!" I suddenly grabbed his wrist, stopping him. He tried to pull back, but I held firm.
"On second thought—heads!" I declared. "Okay, now you can flip it!"
"Fine, but let go of my hand first. I'll flip it—just let go!" Instead of opening his fist, Francesc insisted I release him.
I wasn't that stupid. Keeping my grip on his hand, I pried his fingers open myself—and there, lying in his palm, was the coin, heads up.
Francesc stared in stunned silence, his mouth hanging open uselessly.
"You lost. This holy water belongs to me." I snatched the small bottle from his desk, then pointed at his nose. "And don't forget the condition you agreed to. Strip now and start running!"
The revisions maintain the original meaning and style while improving the flow, grammar, and word choices to sound more natural in English. The dialogue retains its character and the narrative keeps its engaging tone.
"Doesn't count? How can it not count? One more time! You clearly guessed tails first!" Francesc suddenly played dumb.
"Doesn't count?" I yanked him hard by the collar. "How does it not count? You didn't flip it, or did you rig it yourself?"
Francesc was dumbfounded. "I… I…"
"'I' what?" I snatched the coin from him, examined it, then sneered and flung it back in his face.
"Sure enough, both sides are heads. If I'm not wrong, you've got two coins—one with heads on both sides, and one with tails on both sides. You pull a little sleight of hand, only holding the right coin after I call it. That way, no matter how I guess, I lose."
"Your trick isn't exactly brilliant—hell, it's downright ancient. Works on naive little girls, maybe, but against an old hand like me? You're not even fit to shine my shoes. Understand?"
I jabbed a finger into his chest. "A bet's a bet. Strip now and run around Beiwang Town. Let everyone learn your glorious name. Hahaha…"
"Who the hell are you?" Francesc finally snapped out of his daze, glaring at me.
I whistled toward my room door and shouted, "Jeane!"
At the sound of her name, Jeane stepped out.
"Last night, it was you—" Francesc's fury erupted. Veins bulged across his body, his right hand turning deep purple, his left pitch black. That caught me off guard—seems this walking corpse had more than just ghost-raising tricks up his sleeve.
I wasn't about to back down. I drew my Copper Coin Sword and leveled it at him. "What? Trying to cheat? There's a crowd out there—you really wanna lose face? Try me, and you'll taste the Holy Bronze Sword."
Whether I could take him or not, I didn't know. His full strength was a mystery. But name-dropping the Holy Bronze Sword ought to give him pause—it wasn't some common blade. Anyone wielding it had to be formidable. With it in my hand, he'd assume I was a master. Fear would do the rest.
I might not be the strongest, but I've got brains. And sometimes, that's enough.
Sure enough, Francesc reeled his power back in. His hands returned to normal, his expression cooling.
"Heh heh heh…" Suddenly, he let out a madman's laugh.
"What's so funny?" I demanded.
Francesc didn't answer. Instead, he unhooked a badge from his belt and slammed it onto the table. The thing pulsed with an eerie black aura, a single word etched into its surface:
GHOST.
"This Ghost Card is a pass to enter Fengdu Ghost City. The Ghost-Cultivator clan should be begging for it, no? Help me kill this kid, and this Ghost Card will belong to your clan." Francesc announced loudly to the crowd.
Sure enough, I noticed several figures stirring among the onlookers. A chilling wind swept through the restaurant, carrying ghostly wails that set teeth on edge.
Could there really be Ghost-Cultivators here? I couldn't be sure—this place crawled with Erebus-profiteers.
"Hmph, it wouldn't count as cheating if I had you killed, would it?" Francesc sneered.
No sooner had he spoken than a sharp whistling filled the air. An icy wind, razor-edged, lashed against my skin. Invisible presences closed in from all sides, unseen but palpable.
Then—a surge of lethal energy behind me. I spun around, yet saw nothing. But the threat remained, hurtling closer by the second.
Just then—thwip!
A mahogany sword shot through the air, impaling something invisible. With a thud, the blade embedded itself in the wall, black blood oozing down the wooden surface.
A puff of acrid smoke erupted as ash scattered to the floor.
The sword had skewered a ghost—vanquished in an instant.
Silence gripped the room—until someone gasped:
"Look! It's the Six-Coin Celestial Master!"