Zhang Yuanqing once again recalled the backgrounds of his two colleagues. One was a third-level Fire General, a direct descendant of a high-ranking official from the Chihuo Clan. The other was a fourth-level Sage-level Water Spirit. Though the latter had no prominent family background, a Sage-level rank—once achievements accumulate—would surely secure him a position as a Council Member. Indeed, a Sage-level being is someone who defeats transcendent beings as easily as slaughtering dogs. He hoped these two colleagues would not prove difficult to work with. Zhang Yuanqing shifted his legs, rose from his chair, and returned to his desk. In the official repository, he searched for "Commander of the Military." After carefully reviewing the information, he gained a clearer understanding of the evil-profession-based organizations. Among these, there is a well-known structure known as "Three Conferences, Two Monasteries, One Kshatriya." The "Three Conferences" refer to the three major branches of the Spiritual Energy Conference, composed of Wugui Masters. These are the "Central Branch," the "Eastern Branch," and the "Southern Branch." There are three major associations, each with its own territory and infrequent interaction. For a long time, the position of president of the eastern branch of the Spiritual Association has remained vacant, with the two vice-presidents, the Mysterious Judge and the Gushi King, vying for the post. The two sects refer to the Sect of Illusory Artisans, divided geographically into the Southern and Northern Sects. The one Warlord refers to the Army Sect composed of spirits that influence and bewitch, with its leader known as the Warlord. "Madam Guan, in the phrase 'three associations, two sects, one Warlord,' why isn't it 'one Army Sect' and instead 'one Warlord'?" Zhang Yuanqing expressed his query to the elder Sijī. "Are you looking at the power of evil professions?" asked Madam Guan, turning gracefully. "The Black Immortal is indeed the president of the eastern branch of the Spiritual Association," said Zhang Yuanqing. "I took part in the operation to capture him and wanted to use this opportunity to investigate further into the various evil organizations." "Guan Ya nodded, then her expression grew distant, drifting into memory: 'The Shōro... when I was little, my mother often used the Shōro from the Commander's school to scare me. And when my mother was young, her grandmother used the Shōro to scare her too.' Really, the Shōro is your family's generations-old tool for scaring children? Zhang Yuanqing made a comment. 'He is an unparalleled presence among the spiritual realm travelers—fear-inspiring, like a mythical demon destined to bring about the end of the world. Fear-inspiring, invincible, yet incredibly distant. That's how I remember him,' Guan Ya said. 'How do the five Grand Masters compare to him?' Zhang Yuanqing asked curiously. Guan Ya thought for a moment, then shook her head: 'I can't even estimate the level of combat power at that level. But in terms of reputation, the five Grand Masters fall far short of the Shōro. From the phrase "Three Conferences, Two Schools, One Shōro," I believe the five Grand Masters are not on par with the Shōro. That's just my opinion.'" "Standing beside him, Wang Tai interjected, 'If I have access to their individual combat videos, I can analyze the data to determine whether the Grand Master or the Shura is stronger.' 'How could we possibly find videos of that caliber?' Zhang Yuanqing shrugged, 'Wang Tai, why don't you analyze this instead—when I engage in a close combat with Guan Ya, who comes out on top?' Wang Tai said seriously, 'Without relying on props, you two wouldn't stand a chance against her.' Guan Ya shook her head—what a dull man. At this moment, you should have replied, 'How could I ask? There's never a field that fails to be cultivated, only oxen that tire out.' Still, Yuan Shi is quite thoughtful. … Approaching noon, Zhang Yuanqing heard a bright, hearty laugh coming from the first floor: “Ahahaha, you remember me, don’t you? Hello everyone, hello! From now on, I’ll be coming to work frequently. If you have any issues, just find me—I’ve got your backs!” Though the tone was bold and spirited, the voice was clear and fresh, young and vibrant—just listening, Zhang Yuanqing could already picture a young girl standing with her arms crossed, laughing confidently and generously. A few seconds later, footsteps echoed up the steel staircase. Zhang Yuanqing peered over, first spotting a young girl—short, likely in her sophomore year of high school, with refined features that hadn’t quite fully matured, and a cascade of fiery red shoulder-length hair. She held her waist, stepped with an unyielding, determined gait, and climbed up one step at a time, clattering steadily. Behind her came a middle-aged man in a white shirt and casual pants, wearing black-framed glasses, with a沉郁 demeanor, his hair messy and disheveled—looking almost like a more serious, mature version of Wang Tai. Wang Tai, is that your brother? Zhang Yuanqing couldn’t help turning his Wang Tai bent low to attend to his tasks, paying no attention to the goings-on around him. Guan Ya smiled warmly and rose to greet the two returning colleagues. "Hi, Sister Guan, I'm back again!" The red-haired girl raised her hand, greeting with enthusiasm, her eyes then turning to Zhang Yuanqing, who she addressed loudly, "Is that the new colleague? The one who single-handedly stormed the enemy camp, fighting for three days and three nights against Xiaohou family's agents?" Ah? When did I fight Xiaohou family's agents for three days and three nights? Zhang Yuanqing was momentarily puzzled. Guan Ya spread her palm toward the girl, introducing Zhang Yuanqing to her: "Jiang Jingwei, Level 3 Fire Master, 14 years old, still in junior high school. Oh, you must be one of those still in school, right?" "No more. My father says reading hinders one's development—what the school teaches is all nonsense." Jiang Jingwei stepped forward, lifted her feet slightly, and gave Zhang Yuanqing a firm, enthusiastic slap on the shoulder, laughing heartily: "Ahahaha, truly a fine young man! From now on, you'll follow me—my favorite are young people with a sense of justice!" The force of the slap sent a sharp pain through Zhang Yuanqing's shoulder, and his head buzzed with the impact. He felt as though the one slapping him wasn't a 14-year-old girl, but rather a broad-shouldered, sturdy Lu Zhishen. In the next moment, Lu Zhishen would surely bow deeply and say, "Brother!" A girl's appearance, Lu Zhishen's spirit? At that moment, Jiang Jingwei noticed Wang Tai and was taken aback: "Huh? You're also a new arrival?" Wang Tai replied, "No, I'm not. We've met before." Jiang Jingwei was even more surprised: "Impossible—why don't I have any memory of you?" Wang Tai paused, "...". Zhang Yuanqing watched the scene, unsure whether to comment on Wang Tai's exceptional talent or on Jiang Jingwei's unusually relaxed demeanor. Guan Ya continued introducing: "This is Zhang Yuanqing brought his attention back and bowed respectfully, saying, "Chief Tang Yuan." The middle-aged man stared blankly, his expression equally still, appearing utterly disengaged from daily life. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and spoke in a hollow tone, "Just a correction—when the water spirit first undergoes a job transition, his title becomes 'God of Pestilence.'" He nodded to Zhang Yuanqing, "Indeed, young people are always full of energy and a sense of justice. I truly appreciate someone like you. Yet I must also remind you—this is merely a job. Always remember that your own life comes first. How truly tragic it is when one sacrifices one's life for the sake of work." "Heard this, Zhang Yuanqing was energized. He thought, this is the new official's first move—setting up rules right from the start. Tang Yuan, the senior team leader, pushed gently at his glasses, his demeanor sluggish, his tone flat. He said: 'Rule one: No overtime work! Rule two: Paid vacation is allowed. Rule three: No need to clock in at the office. Rule four: Leave without my approval. Rule five: If overtime is absolutely unavoidable, the overtime pay will be tripled. Rule six: The weekend days will be changed to three-day rest days. Rule seven...' Guan Ya stopped the car, opened the door, and said, "We've arrived." She wore a long coat that covered her striking figure, and had exchanged her high heels for running shoes. The cargo elevator doors were open, and Guan Ya led Zhang Yuanqing into the轿厢. As the轿厢 descended, Guan Ya and Zhang Yuanqing donned masks and baseball caps. A soft chime signaled the elevator doors opened, and a thick, mingled scent of sweat and smoke rushed in, accompanied by a loud, bustling noise. Zhang Yuanqing scanned the space outside, which was spacious—the market had been converted from an underground parking garage and divided into two distinct zones. On the left, a massive arena stood, where two well-built men in the buff engaged in fierce, powerful combat, drawing cheers from the crowd below. Around the perimeter were various stalls selling beverages and food. To the right, the atmosphere was much quieter, with neatly arranged stands, and only a few people meandering through, scattered and casual. At one of the stalls, Zhang Yuanqing spotted a familiar face—Bai Long, the head of the group, leading two younger brothers as they strolled from stand to stand. "White Dragon used to be the top fighter on the arena," he remarked. "Guan Ya also noticed her, smiling and saying, 'She likes to play several games after shopping, so she can earn back the money she spends. The spiritual realm travelers are constrained by their moral values—making a profit isn't difficult, but becoming wealthy is hard. The materials and items in the spiritual realm are all exorbitantly priced.'" "Exorbitantly priced?" Zhang Yuanqing began to worry about his own finances. The two walked straight toward the right section, where the stalls offered a wide variety of goods, yet they were messy and disorganized. Primarily focused on materials, information, and guides, props were scarce—when available, they were often functional but rather underwhelming. Zhang Yuanqing stopped in front of one stall, pointing to a bottle containing a "dark green paste," and asked, "What is this?" He sensed a strong yin energy within the paste. The vendor replied, "It's the bodily fluid of a zombie." "How much?" "50,000." "Wow, that's expensive!" Zhang Yuanqing was surprised. He then pointed to a piece of crimson crystal and added, "And what about this?" "The explosive stones produced in the Fire Master's arena—consumables," the vendor said. "How much?" He glanced at you. "Two ni ma." You're absolutely kicking me in the teeth! Zhang Yuanqing: "...” He scanned the diverse materials on the stall, paused for a few seconds, and silently summoned his little comic. Which materials were most suitable? Only the spirit servant knew.