7 p.m., dinner table.
Grandma looked around at the family members seated and, in high spirits, made an announcement:
"Yuanzhi, your uncle is coming back tomorrow afternoon. Yuanjun, remember to pick him up. Yuer, try to get off work early and come home."
"Yuer" was Auntie's childhood nickname.
Zhang Yuanqing and Jiang Yuer were each gnawing on a chicken leg, while Chen Yuanjun calmly sipped his soup—none of them looked the least bit surprised.
Seeing this, Grandma slapped her chopsticks on the table and glared. "Did you all hear me?"
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Got it."
Grandma: "..."
Uncle and Auntie had been off traveling abroad for nearly two months. Uncle was an idle playboy with no sense of responsibility, and Auntie was a pampered princess who didn't lift a finger around the house. Their presence—or absence—made absolutely no difference.
So what if they were back? It wasn't exactly cause for celebration. Probably only Grandma was genuinely happy about it.
Chewing on her chicken leg, Jiang Yuer muttered, "Why couldn't that family disgrace stay abroad a few more months? It's been so peaceful without those two around."
Chen Yuanjun glanced at his younger aunt. "You shouldn't say that. That family disgrace is still my dad."
Zhang Yuanqing looked at his cousin. "You shouldn't say that. That family disgrace is still my uncle."
Seeing Grandma's expression turn thunderous, about to tear into these two unfilial brats, Jiang Yuer quickly tried to pacify her—and expertly tossed out a topic guaranteed to capture her mother's interest:
"Mom, there's been a haunting at our hospital."
A haunting? Zhang Yuanqing immediately perked up.
Sure enough, Grandma dropped her anger in a flash. "Oh my! What happened? Tell me everything."
"It started with Sister Zhou in our department. She was on night duty and said she heard children laughing in the office. When she went to check, the sounds stopped. Then she went to the restroom and saw, in the mirror, a baby clinging to her shoulder. Scared her half to death!"
Auntie rattled on excitedly, "And it wasn't just her. Other night shift staff said they've heard children laughing too. Everyone thinks it's probably some aborted fetus that couldn't rest in peace and now lingers in the hospital."
Grandma listened with great interest and nodded along. "That's really spooky. Sounds about right. Next time you're on night duty, bring Yuanzhi along with you. Got any more stories?"
"Oh, I've got plenty..."
Grandma's love of gossip clearly hadn't passed to Mom—it had gone straight to Auntie... Listening to the pair chatter away, Zhang Yuanqing found his earlier curiosity fading.
As a Nightwanderer, he could tell right away that this was nothing more than urban legend.
First of all, spirits didn't make sound—no vocal cords. They could only affect people's minds directly through spiritual power.
And the willpower and mental strength of a fetus? Not even close to enough to leave behind a lingering soul.
Lastly, regular people couldn't see spirits. Only those nearing death, weighed down by heavy Yin energy, might occasionally have such encounters.
But everyone hearing baby laughter? That was nonsense.
"Be careful, Auntie," Zhang Yuanqing said in a low voice. "Don't go bringing dead babies home from the hospital."
Jiang Yuer's face froze, her excitement gone in an instant. "Mom! He's scaring me again!"
Grandma gave her grandson a token smack on the head.
...
After dinner, Zhang Yuanqing quietly slipped out of the house and took a taxi to the nearest Tier-3 hospital.
He was going to exorcise lingering spirits—and farm EXP.
The Nightwanderer's Devour Spirit skill was currently his best method of leveling up. Who knew when the next dungeon would open? Powering up before that happened was absolutely essential.
Even within the same rank, the gap between 1% and 99% EXP was massive—like heaven and earth.
Hospitals were excellent places for a Nightwanderer to level. Birth, aging, sickness, and death... all flowed through hospitals. Crematoriums were good too, but they were usually way out in the suburbs.
Sitting in the car, Zhang Yuanqing suddenly remembered something Guan Ya had said earlier.
"Why do Nightwanderers from Taiyi Guild frown upon devouring spirits? Is it a matter of principle? Or is there some other reason?"
He pulled out his phone and opened the official Spiritwalker Forum, searching for relevant threads.
Search results: No related entries found.
...
Outskirts. Night had begun to fall.
In a dirty, cramped rental apartment in an industrial park, Ou Xiangrong sat down in front of a cluttered table with a steaming bowl of instant noodles.
He swept the beer cans and junk to the floor with a loud clang clang clang, cleared a space, then grabbed a cold beer from the fridge.
Big bites of noodles. Big gulps of beer.
The noodles were scalding, straight from the pot—but they couldn't harm his toughened oral lining.
Ou Xiangrong's sparse eyebrows twitched as his expression flickered between vicious, cold, and hateful... like someone perpetually on the verge of a psychotic break.
Suddenly, his ears twitched. He froze, eyes narrowing.
He stood slowly, drew a willow blade from his belt sheath, and crept silently toward the door.
Bang!
Just as he neared the entrance, the door burst open, a fireball blazing through the frame.
Scorching wind howled past him. Ou Xiangrong stopped, flicked his arm, and slashed.
Boom!
The fireball exploded into brilliant sparks and searing light.
A figure wreathed in flames dashed through the door. With a springing motion, he lunged toward Ou Xiangrong like a rocket.
Ou Xiangrong moved even faster. Twisting his body, he slammed his shoulder forward.
Boom!
The flaming figure was sent flying, crashing into the hallway wall with a tremor.
His right arm and shoulder covered in burn marks, Ou Xiangrong gritted his teeth through the pain and bolted for the window. He couldn't risk going through the corridor—it was narrow, and if surrounded, he'd be doomed.
Glass shattered as he leapt from the third floor.
Bang bang!
Midair, two shots rang out. He deflected the headshot, but the other hit his chest.
The bullet tore into him but was stopped by his dense muscle tissue.
Looking toward the source, he saw a tall mixed-race beauty standing in the shadows by a row of shrubs—OL skirt, white blouse, black stockings, long legs strapped with holsters. Twin silver pistols gleamed in her hands, her hair fluttering in the wind. Cold and deadly.
Bang bang bang... She fired again with calm precision, tracking his falling trajectory perfectly.
Ou Xiangrong took multiple hits before landing. He turned his head sharply toward her—his pupils now swirled with blood-red runes.
The next moment, the woman froze, face blank. She raised a gun to her own head.
Bang!
The muzzle flashed—but the bullet didn't reach her. A rough hand intercepted it midair.
A miner, face dark and grim, had appeared beside her without warning.
"Enchanter-type demon?" he muttered.
"A Level 3 Enchanting Demon," a second voice answered.
A man in a sleek black vest and white shirt stepped out of the darkness, leaning on a cane, hair slicked back impeccably.
"Tell the team to lock down the neighborhood. No one comes near."
Yet another voice spoke up. A graceful woman in an ink-wash qipao emerged from the stairwell—elegant, serene, and beautiful.
Ou Xiangrong stood in place, blade in hand, eyes sweeping coldly over the ambushers.
Vroooom!
In the distance, an engine roared. Headlights pierced the night. A motorcycle raced toward him. The rider, a woman in a white racing suit, crouched low with a three-foot-long black blade in hand.
Gunfire resumed, cutting off his escape. The fire wielder leapt from the third floor, attacking from the side.
The miner pressed his palms to the ground. Cracks spread through the concrete as two earthen hands grabbed Ou Xiangrong's legs.
He slashed at the incoming bullets, sparks flying, and flexed his leg muscles to shatter the mud-grip—rolling forward just as the flame-wreathed figure crashed down behind him.
He charged headlong toward the biker.
In the blink of an eye, their blades met.
His knife sliced through the woman's chest—but she vanished into water.
Her own blade swept through his abdomen.
Blood gushed as his chest split open.
Still, he didn't falter. Sprinting for the perimeter.
At that moment, the elegant woman leapt from the second-floor window, barefoot. She ran along the wall as if on solid ground.
With a shout, she spun, her qipao flaring, and lashed out with a whip-like kick.
Boom!
He slammed into a building wall like a cannonball and crumpled to the ground.
"You've got guts, killing a Spiritwalker in my district," said Li Dongze, who had been watching from start to finish, cane in hand, as if the mastermind. "Now... I'll send you to hell myself."
A deep sigh echoed.
Ou Xiangrong rose, eyes blood-red, filled with madness and fury. A twisted, malevolent force awakened within him.
In a hoarse voice, he said: "You're all going to die."
Li Dongze took two quick steps back. "Guys, I was joking. I don't need the glory. Really."
...
In the taxi, Zhang Yuanqing refreshed the Spiritwalker Forum after his earlier search turned up nothing.
A new pinned thread popped up at the top.
[WANTED: Level 3 Enchanting Demon – Ou Xiangrong]
This hadn't been there a few minutes ago.
He clicked in:
"Ou Xiangrong, Level 3 Enchanting Demon, murdered White Tiger Scout Zhao Yingjun of the Five Elements Alliance on April 18.
On April 19, 7:05 p.m., evaded capture by Kangyang District Spiritwalker Squad.
Possesses unknown and terrifying dark powers—beyond standard Enchanting Demons. Severely wounded, currently at large.
All regional squads be alert. Subject is on the brink of losing control. Kill on sight.
50,000 yuan reward for useful intel. 100,000 yuan for confirmed kill."
The post had only been up for three minutes, and the comments were already flooding in.
Most were bashing the Kangyang squad for incompetence—letting a dangerous lunatic slip away.
"Are you kidding? This guy's about to go psycho. What the hell was the squad doing?"
"If he goes on a killing spree before we find him, we'll be the laughingstock of the entire Spiritwalker community."
"We're screwed."
Ou Xiangrong escaped? Squad Leader Li and the others already tracked him down and engaged?
Zhang Yuanqing wasn't sure whether to praise their speed or curse their failure.
Since they fought him, there must be blood or tissue left behind... With the Red Dancing Shoes, I should be able to find him...
He immediately thought of his special rule-type item.