At seven o'clock, at the dining table. Grandmother surveyed the family around the table, her mood quite cheerful, and announced: "Yuanzi, your uncle will be back this afternoon. Yuanjun, remember to drive and pick him up. Yuer, come home early after work." Yuer was her aunt's childhood nickname. Zhang Yuanqing and Jiang Yuer each chewed on a chicken leg, while Chen Yuanjun sipped his chicken soup, all of them looking calm and composed. Upon seeing this, Grandmother snapped her chopsticks and looked at them sharply, saying, "Did you hear me?" "Oh." "Hmm." "Got it." Grandmother: "...". The couple had been abroad on a travel trip for nearly two months. Uncle had been idle and carefree, while Aunt had never touched a single dish of cooked food—home life was exactly the same whether they were there or not. Their return was simply a return, not a grand occasion worthy of celebration. Probably only Grandmother would be genuinely happy about their return. Jiang Yuer, chewing on her chicken leg, remarked, "Then why doesn't the family's disgrace stay a little longer? With them gone, the house has been especially peaceful." Chen Yuanjun glanced at his cousin and said, "Don't say that—after all, the family's disgrace is still my father." Zhang Yuanqing looked at his brother and said, "Don't say that—after all, the family's disgrace is still my uncle." Seeing their grandmother furious and rising to hand-toss the ungrateful grandchildren, Jiang Yu E quickly calmed her down and brought up a topic sure to interest their mother: "Mom, our hospital is haunted." Haunted? Zhang Yuanqing immediately sat up straighter. Indeed, the grandmother had completely forgotten about her sons and hurriedly asked, "Oh, really? How come it's all of a sudden haunted? Please tell me what happened." "It's Zhou Sister from our department. While on night duty, she heard children's laughter in the office. When she went in to check, the laughter had vanished. Then she went to the restroom and saw a baby lying on her shoulder in the mirror—she was nearly frightened to death." The aunt elaborated with confidence, "It's not just Zhou Sister. Other night-shift colleagues have also reported hearing children's laughter occasionally during the night." Everyone says it must be one of the children who was hospitalized, unwilling to give up and lingering around the hospital. Grandma listened intently and commented, "What a strange coincidence—I think that's very likely. When you're on night duty, I'll have Yuanzi come with you. Any more? Any more?" "Yes, yes..." Grandma's gossip never reached Mom—it was all inherited by Auntie. Zhang Yuanqing listened to the mother and daughter chattering about all sorts of stories, but the interest that had first sparked in him gradually faded. As a night wanderer, he knew right away this was just a rumor and a tale, not a reality. First, spirits couldn't produce sound because they lacked physical form and had no vocal cords—unless their power directly affected a person's consciousness. Yet, for infants, the strength of their will and mental energy would not be sufficient to leave behind a spirit after death. Finally, ordinary people with ordinary eyes couldn't see spirits at all. Only those who were nearing the end of life or had a strong presence of yin energy might occasionally interact with spirits. Thus, such occasional occurrences were entirely reasonable. But so many people have heard the baby's laughter—now that's just ridiculous. "Auntie, be careful, don't bring home any of the hospital's deceased babies," Zhang Yuan said quietly. Jiang Yu E, who was just in the middle of speaking, suddenly went rigid as a goose egg face, exclaiming, "Mom, he's scaring me again!" Grandma gave her grandson a symbolic scalp shave. ... After dinner, Zhang Yuan quietly left home and took a taxi to the nearest tertiary hospital. He wanted to perform the spiritual rituals there to honor the departed and gain experience points. The "Soul Devourer" skill, which allows night-wandering spirits to accumulate experience, is currently the most effective way to level up. The next time the spiritual realm opens, it's unclear when that will be—so it's essential to strengthen his abilities before entering the realm. With the same level, a 99% experience rate versus just 1% makes a world of difference. Hospitals are ideal places for night-wandering spirits to gain experience, since life and death events constantly unfold there. Of course, crematoriums are also excellent, though the crematoriums in Songhai are all located Seated in the car, Zhang Yuanqing suddenly remembered what Guan Ya had said today. "Why does the Night-Wanderer Spirit of Taiyuan Gate show particular caution toward consuming spiritual bodies—out of industry tradition, believing it harms one's merit, or is there another reason?" With this thought, he pulled out his phone and logged into the official forum of the Spirit Realm Travelers, searching for relevant information. The search results showed: no relevant entries found. ... In the suburbs, night began to fall. In a budget rental apartment within an industrial park, in the cluttered living room, Ouyang Xiangrong, holding a large bowl of freshly boiled noodles, walked over to the table piled high with beer cans. He casually swept them aside, sending the cans and other items clattering to the floor, clearing space for his bowl, then reached into the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of beer. He ate his noodles heartily and drank his beer deeply. Though the noodles were scalding hot when freshly served, they failed to burn his resilient oral cells. Ouyang Xiangrong, whose eyebrows were sparse, alternated between fierce, cold, and resentful expressions—much like a Suddenly, his ear twitched, and he paused his chopsticks, his expression instantly turning fierce. Ou Xiangrong rose slowly, drawing the willow-blade from its sheath at his back, and moved with quiet grace against the bedroom door. "Clang!" As he approached the entrance, the door was violently kicked open, and a brilliant light surged forth, a blazing ball of heat rushing toward him. The hot wind swept over him, and Ou Xiangrong halted, swinging his right arm with the blade, the sharp light cutting through the fireball with a thunderous "boom," sending a cascade of vibrant, colorful flames filling the room. Against the sudden burst of light, a figure blazing with fire surged into the rental apartment, leaping forward with a rocket-like impact, colliding with Ou Xiangrong. Ou Xiangrong was more forceful—he sidestepped and drove his shoulder forward with a powerful thrust. "Boom!" The figure flew backward, crashing into the hallway wall, sending it trembling. Ou Xiangrong, his right hand and shoulder covered in burn marks, endured the pain and turned toward the window. He dared not go down the hallway—the narrow corridors of the old residential building would surely trap him and seal his fate if surrounded. As the glass shattered, Ou leaped out from the third floor. "Thud! Thud!" Upon breaking the window, he heard two gunshots. He deflected the one aimed at his head with his willow blade, but could not stop the bullet striking his chest. The bullet's powerful kinetic energy pierced his skin and was caught by his strong muscles. Following the sound of gunfire, in the shadow beside the green belt, stood a tall, elegant mixed-race woman in a professional attire—white shirt tucked into an olive-green suit—her hair flowing in the wind, cool and commanding. She held a silver pistol in each hand, her long black silk legs secured with two gun holsters. "Thud! Thud! Thud…" The mixed-race woman fired steadily and precisely, her aim seemingly able to anticipate his descent. After being struck by several bullets, Ou Xiangrong finally landed. He suddenly turned to the mixed-race woman, and two blood-red, twisted runes appeared in his pupils. In the next instant, the woman's expression grew stiff, and she rotated her gun, aiming it at her own brow. "Bang!" The muzzle erupted in flames, but the bullet failed to shatter the woman's smooth forehead, instead being blocked by a pair of rough hands. A worker had appeared beside her without anyone having noticed—dressed in a miner's cap, his dark face serious and composed. "A spirit-enchanted demon?" "A Level 3 demon of the惑 (hù) genus," he replied. From the darkness, a man approached, holding a cane, dressed in a black suit with a black jacket and white shirt, his hair neatly combed. "Have the staff stationed outside the complex—don't let them come near here." A second voice echoed, as a man in a black leather jacket stepped out of the hallway—slender and strong, with a sharp, commanding presence. Ou Xiangrong held his knife, his face grim, surveying the surroundings. "Boom! Boom! Boom!" At that moment, the sound of a locomotive roared from afar, its bright lights piercing the darkness. A motorcycle surged forward, its rider in a white racing suit, hunched over, clutching a three-foot-long black blade, charging ahead. Immediately, gunfire erupted again, sealing off Ou Xiangrong's retreat. A flame figure leapt from a window, blocking the path from the side. Tang Guoqiang, wearing a miner's cap, pressed both hands against the ground, causing the cement to crack with a crisp sound. Two hands formed from clumps of soil gripped firmly at Ou Xiangrong's feet. Ou Xiangrong remained calm, swinging his willow blade to deflect bullets coming at sharp angles, sparks flying where the bullet heads met the blade. Then, his leg muscles expanded, shattering the soil-clad hands, and he rolled forward, just avoiding the flame figure leaping down from the third floor. Steadily, he rolled to his feet and began sprinting, heading straight toward the woman on her motorcycle. Under the night's hue, the two passed each other. The sharp willow blade severed the woman's chest, yet there was no tangible sense of a decisive cut—upon being struck by the blade, the woman on the motorcycle instantly transformed into water. Her long sword swept past Ou Xiangrong's chest and abdomen. A gash split open his chest, and in torrents, blood surged forth. Unmindful of his injuries, Ou Xiangrong continued to rush outward toward the neighborhood's edge. At that moment, a graceful woman in a qipao leapt from a window on the second floor, her snow-white feet bare, running smoothly across the wall as if on level ground. With a sudden leap, she landed before Ou Xiangrong, cried out in exasperation, spun around, and with her qipao billowing, her strong, powerful long legs striking like whips, delivering sharp blows upon him. He was sent flying like a projectile, crashing through the wall of the residential building and gradually collapsing to the ground. "To have slain one of my official Lingjing practitioners within my jurisdiction—well, you're quite impressive." At that moment, Li Dongze, who had been watching the entire performance from beginning to end, slowly approached, his face serious and composed like a behind-the-scenes mastermind, speaking calmly, "From now on, I will personally see you off." "Oh..." A deep sigh echoed throughout the room. Ou Xiangrong slowly rose to his feet. His eyes were blazing red with fury and wildness, as a powerful, evil force stirred to life within him. With a hoarse voice, he said, "All of you must die." Li Dongze quietly stepped back two paces. "My brothers, what I said earlier was just a jest. I am not someone who takes all the credit to myself." ... In the taxi, no record of Zhang Yuanqing could be found. Returning to the forum homepage, he instinctively refreshed the page. Then, he noticed a post highlighted and placed at the top. #WANTED: Level 3 Spirit-Enchanting Demon Ou Xiangrong# This post had not been there just a few minutes ago. Zhang Yuan opened the post: ["Ou Xiangrong, a Level 3 Deception-type monster, killed the White Tiger scouting troops of the Five Elements Alliance, Zhao Yingjun, on April 18. On April 19, at 19:05, he escaped during the encirclement and assault by the Kangyang District's spiritual realm squad."] ["This individual carries an ominous, terrifying evil power—far beyond a typical Deception-type monster—and has already been severely wounded by the Kangyang District's spiritual realm squad. His current whereabouts are unknown. All regional spiritual realm squad teams, take note: Ou Xiangrong is on the verge of losing control. As soon as he identifies a target, eliminate him immediately."] ["Those who provide leads will receive a reward of 50,000 yuan. Those who successfully eliminate him will receive 100,000 yuan."] Less than three minutes after the post was published, the number of comments had already surpassed one hundred. All were expressing frustration over the Kangyang District's spiritual realm squad's inadequate performance, allowing such a nearly unhinged Deception-type monster to escape. "Are we going mad? A threat of this magnitude "We'll be laughed out of the national spiritual journeyers' circles, mocked for our inadequate response, for holding high salaries yet doing nothing." "Complete disaster," said Zhang Yuanqing. "Has Ou Xiangrong really escaped? How did Shizhang and his team so quickly identify and capture the target? For a moment, Zhang couldn't decide whether to praise their efficiency or complain about their sluggish performance—having let a ticking time bomb slip through their fingers. "Since the confrontation has already taken place, Ou Xiangrong's blood and even his bodily tissues will surely remain at the scene. With the Red Slippers, we should be able to locate him..." Zhang Yuanqing immediately recalled his rule-based artifact.