The san value dropped to zero instantly. A cold sensation surged from his tailbone, rising straight to the crown of his head. Zhang Yuanqing, like a cat with fur standing on end, leaped high in place, shouting an expletive: "Crap! Horse! What the hell!" This was the natural, instinctive outburst when someone is under strong shock or sudden fright. Now he finally understood why his shoulders had been so sore, and why the body found near the window had always carried a bronze mirror with it—so as to observe whether the spirit ghost had settled upon his shoulders. When exactly had the ghost settled on his shoulders—when he first entered the quadrangle courtyard, or when he stepped into this room? Who had given him the courage to venture out and explore—Liang Jingru? His mind felt as if it had exploded, a flood of thoughts surging forth in an instant, overwhelming him with fear. Though he knew the temple harbored something strange and terrifying, and though he had anticipated such things, facing the ghosts and spirits face-to-face still triggered an inexplicable panic. Oh, I have an amulet... Zhang Yuanqing, trembling, pulled out the yellow paper amulet from the pocket of his combat jacket and pressed it against his shoulder—doing the best he could, treating a dead horse as if it were alive. Tap! The anchoring amulet settled on his shoulder. He lifted the bronze mirror, carefully gazing at it. Yet the man—pale as a sheet, lips dark, with eyes lifeless and white—remained pressed against his shoulder. Useless. This isn’t even a type of corpse-related spirit or shadow entity... His last hope had vanished. Zhang Yuanqing felt his shoulder growing increasingly stiff and painful, his hands and feet growing cold. This wasn’t just a sensation—it was a tangible loss of yang energy. At that moment, Zhang Yuanqing recalled the corpse beneath the main hall’s table and the senior colleague who had died in the window. He now realized he too would likely meet the same fate as these two. A deep chill surged through him. "Tap, tap!" Suddenly, at this critical moment, a soft footstep came from the corridor outside. The sound was light and delicate, yet in the quiet of the midnight stillness, it was …Zhang Yuanqing felt a sudden jolt, quickly crouched down beside the body at the window's base. The footsteps sounded familiar, very much like those he had heard when he first entered the temple. "Tap, tap, tap…" The footsteps grew closer, approaching this way. Zhang Yuanqing held his breath, his entire body tense, faintly hearing his own rapid heartbeat. As the footsteps passed by the window, he still couldn't resist glancing at the floor of the room, where the moonlight formed a grid pattern. The window was not high—only reaching waist level. For an ordinary person, passing by the window would inevitably cast a shadow of their body onto the floor. Yet he saw nothing. This indicated that whatever had passed by outside the window was formless. Fortunately, the footsteps passed by the window frame without stopping or entering the room, gradually fading into the distance. Inhale… Zhang Yuanqing quietly exhaled, focusing intently on the retreating footsteps, hearing them step into the courtyard, making a soft "shush" sound as they brushed against the overgrown grass. Then he stopped. A few seconds later, footsteps resumed. This time, the footsteps were not merely walking—they carried a clear rhythm and regularity. What was she doing in the courtyard? Zhang Yuanqing, supporting himself with his icy body, struggled to rise slowly. Through the tattered window pane, he focused intently outward. Under the moonlight, among the overgrown grass, a pair of fresh, Western-style red dance shoes was moving in a lively tap dance. Moonlight, an abandoned temple, red dance shoes, a solo performance. The scene seemed both strange and eerie, yet carried an indescribable sense of…loneliness? How could there be Western-style dance shoes in a Ming dynasty mountain temple shrine? The temple was growing more and more mysterious. He quietly crouched back down, patient and still. Time passed slowly. The vengeful spirit resting on his shoulders steadily drained his vital energy, making his body increasingly stiff. The shoulder pain had now turned into a sharp, piercing ache. He felt that if this continued, he would either die from exhaustion of vital energy or succumb to broken bones from the injury. In the midst of suffering, the dance in the courtyard vanished. Zhang Yuanqing still dared not lift his head, and only after waiting a little longer did he cautiously peer through the window, gazing out toward the courtyard. The courtyard was filled with moonlight, the wild grass standing still and silent—the strange dance shoes had disappeared. "Ah…" He exhaled a long, heavy breath, relieved. As he reached to stand, his knees gave way and he collapsed to the ground. With the tension in his nerves finally easing and the adrenaline fading, he realized how badly off he truly was. A sharp, burning pain radiated from his shoulders, as if his bones were about to shatter; his knee joints were stiff, and his blood seemed to have turned to stone. He trembled, clutching the bronze mirror. The gray surface reflected him—pale, weary, with dull pupils. This was no ordinary man. He looked more like a patient on the verge of collapse. The spirit with a blackened mouth, once so restless, now watched him silently and strangely. If this continued, he would surely perish. But what could he do? He could not reach the spectral entity clinging to his shoulders. The intense pain in his shoulder bones forced him to lean against the wall for support. He glanced sideways at the corpse of his senior worker—the posture of body and skeleton was identical. "That's it," Zhang Yuan sighed bitterly. He seemed to see his own fate, hear the sigh of the death god. Yet Zhang Yuan did not give up his desire to survive. His mind remained active, operating like a CPU under heavy load, searching for hope in the midst of adversity. In a flash, amidst the chaotic flow of information, the corpse beneath the main hall's table briefly appeared. "The shoulder injuries of the two corpses differ. The one in the main hall's body has a non-fatal shoulder fracture—the spirit clinging to his shoulder has spared him?" No, the vengeful spirit could not be lenient... Why had he hidden beneath the table... The red dancing shoes had followed me silently since I entered the temple, but when I reached the main hall, they vanished. As he thought of this, a glimmer of hope sparked in the dim, cloudy depths of his eyes. Back to the main hall—back to the main hall! He rose immediately, staggering out of the room, each step heavy and difficult, as though carrying an entire mountain. "Thump! Thump!" He fell in the courtyard, landing among the wild grass, unable to rise again. His jaw trembled, the teeth clicking against one another, as if he were deep in a biting winter. The cold had drained the warmth, eroding his resolve. With all his strength, he crawled toward the main hall, head held high, his eyes always catching the outline of the building ahead. Only then would his hope not fade. It only takes about a minute to walk from the main hall, yet now it feels as distant as the farthest shores and horizons. At the very moment he climbs into the eave of the main hall, a faint, ethereal cry echoes in his ears, and as his shoulders lighten, the lingering effects of cold, dizziness, and stiffness vanish instantly. Zhang Yuanqing rolls and crawls up to the base, stumbles to the front of the main hall, pushes open the lattice gate, and crashes into the threshold. The candlelight is dim but dispels the gloom, bringing a refreshing warmth. He lies flat on his back, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, and remains like this for a few minutes before finally feeling as though he has truly come back to life. "It was terrifying, terrifying... My assessment was correct—the main hall is indeed a safe haven." Based on the differences in shoulder injuries between the two skeletons, he concludes that something must have obstructed the vengeful spirits' pursuit of the person inside. The worker who had been crouched beneath the table and now lies dead reflects the typical behavior of someone overwhelmed by extreme fear. In this worker's heart, the main hall was safe. The red ballet shoe's abandonment of his pursuit served as indirect confirmation of this belief. For the following period, Zhang Yuanqing remained in the main hall until the pain in his shoulders eased and his body temperature stabilized. Indeed, he encountered no further dangers. "If the main hall is indeed a safe haven, then my chances of survival have greatly improved—even if the shoulder-wracking spirit continues to drain my essence, I can still retreat back to the main hall. But if I encounter spirits and am pursued by the red ballet shoe, I doubt I'll make it back. 'Moreover, the most eerie and terrifying source of this temple must be something more than just the spirits.' He did not feel particularly triumphant merely because he had weathered one life-threatening crisis—the ancient temple was far from simple. After all, an entire construction crew had perished here before him. After resting for some time, his fear gradually subsided, and he hesitated, uncertain whether to venture out and continue exploring. A voice in his mind resonated once more: 【Main Quest 1: Survive for Three Hours (Completed)】 【Main Quest 2: Explore the Spirit Realm 0079, Progress: 20%】 【Master Yuan-Shi, congratulations on completing a main quest! Rewards are being processed for you...】 【New Item/Equipment Acquired: Sealing Scroll (viewable in your inventory).】 【Experience Points Gained: 15%】 【Inventory Unlocked.】 【You will now receive 36 hours of rest. The next activation of Spirit Realm 0079 is scheduled for 35:59:40.】 He stared around in astonishment, confirming that he had truly returned to the room, only then to collapse on his knees and land softly on the plush bed. Taking a deep breath, he found the air itself to be sweet and fragrant. Living was wonderful. Life was wonderful. After settling for a few minutes, Zhang Yuanqing sat up, pulled down the zip of his tactical jacket, and discovered the spirit-stabilizing talisman was gone. A natural thought of "retrieve an item" arose in him, and instantly, a grid of five blue-tinged squares appeared before him. The first square contained the yellow paper talisman. It was a remarkable experience—once the inventory system unlocked, this function became instinctive, requiring no learning or effort, simply known intuitively how to open the inventory. "Besides the spirit-stabilizing talisman, I've gained 15% experience points, but my level remains zero. This means I have not yet become a night-wanderer spirit; I am still just an ordinary person. Having survived for three hours and nearly perishing in the process, how am I supposed to tackle the second task?" That's what S-level difficulty really is... Zhang Yuanqing felt more and more hopeless, sensing that he had been tricked by Bingge. This card certainly could change one's life, but it was also incredibly difficult to manage. He was very aware of his own limitations—he was just a college student who had never even killed a chicken. In the next task, he would find it extremely hard to survive on his own. As a true socialist youth, he would surely have to rely on the state and the government. So he reached for his phone, intending to call his cousin. But as his fingers touched the screen, he paused. He realized he might have a better option. He got up from the bed and found the business card left behind by the well-groomed man in the desk drawer. The card listed the name and contact information. Tonight's experience reminded him of Bingge's mysterious disappearance. If he couldn't make it out alive, then he too would have vanished mysteriously. It's certain that Bing has already been exposed to what's known as the Spiritual Realm—perhaps his disappearance means he has entered one of them? Based on this assumption, the investigator from the Public Security Bureau is credible. He chose to contact the bald man for another reason: the man himself mentioned that he too might have gone missing—something that clearly implies he too may have entered a Spiritual Realm. Combined with the fact that his cousin was unaware of this, Zhang Yuanqing has good grounds to believe that those three are specially assigned personnel handling such incidents. After clarifying these points, Zhang Yuanqing dialed the number on the business card. The line rang for several seconds before connecting. A mature, low, masculine voice asked, "May I ask who's calling?"