"The Fengdu government has issued its verdict," Song Miaozhu stated coldly.
"The living world's SEIU has been found guilty of coercing ghosts into espionage, maliciously gathering underworld intelligence, selling paper crafts below market value in Yinshui Alley to disrupt Fengdu's economy, monopolizing paper resources, and attempting to commandeer ghosts—all acts constituting Severe Disturbance of Yin-Yang Order.
Primary conspirators—Feng Ru, Qi Tai, Fan Guolong, Yan Dexing, Chen Guping, Huai Yingzhuo, Bao Xianghong, Dou Caibai, and Xu Leijun—have each been recorded with one '18th Degree Major Evil' and penalized with 20 years of deducted lifespan.
Direct participants who caused severe consequences—Feng Jinwen, Yu Junhao, Wang Zhijie, Yang Jingxuan, and others—have been recorded with one '12th Degree Medium Evil,' penalized with 10 years of deducted lifespan...
Should I continue? The specifics of your punishments should have been delivered via dream messengers by now.
Lifespan deductions are irreversible—they erode the body's foundation. Like elderly cultivators who regain health but not youth, if the body can't withstand 20 years of sudden aging, death follows.
As for the ghosts who aided you, they face equivalent penalties. Without lifespans to deduct, they're fined in hell coins—their version of longevity. Those who can't pay face immediate dispersal.
Worse, every one of them now bears an 'evil record.' They've likely already been dragged back to hell—scalded in oil, flayed on blade mountains, enduring tortures that last years. Those who survive will see their underworld stipends reduced, likely dispersing before reincarnation. Even if they endure, a Medium Evil or higher guarantees a wretched next life—beast or crippled human.
Due to this incident, the underworld has tightened security. To prevent further disturbances from living cultivators during this spiritual revival era, they have severed all links between yin residence and the living world.
The ghosts haven't disappeared from the cemeteries. Their connection to the world of the living has simply been cut off. From now on, the only ghosts remaining in the living world will be foreign ones. No more domestic ghosts."
When Song Miaozhu laid all this out, silence fell across the video call. Even the background noise disappeared.
Feng Jinwen's eyes were filled with regret and anguish. He forced himself to stay calm and asked:
"Please compile the underworld's official announcement later and pass it to the Jiangcheng SEIU team. The SEIU app will credit your contribution points accordingly."
Song Miaozhu didn't respond. These days, she had ghost instructors teaching her directly. She barely even watched the SEIU's masterclasses anymore. The spiritual items they offered were mediocre. Contribution points, to her, were just another way to convert effort into RMB.
Still, she didn't reject the task. Like she always reminded herself—when lacking strength, it's better to maintain peace on the surface. With SEIU likely in chaos, wounded and weakened, it wasn't the time to make enemies.
"Unless absolutely necessary, fleeing isn't worth it. If I must break ties, I'll wait until my papercraft advances further—until I can craft spiritual dwellings. Living in the wilderness without one would be miserable."
Then came the bombshell.
"One more thing," Feng Jinwen said. "Our expert committee is drafting an appeal letter to the underworld authorities tonight. We'd like you to help deliver it to Fengdu's government."
"I refuse."
Song Miaozhu didn't bother with diplomacy anymore. She no longer cared about keeping the peace or acting agreeable.
Compiling an announcement? Fine. A waste of time, but harmless.
Delivering an appeal? That was dragging her into their treason.
Compared to underworld retribution, hiding in the wilderness sounded downright cozy.
She not only refused, but also dropped all pretense of patience or respect:
"Submit it yourselves! Don't involve me!
The ghosts who helped you were fined in hell coins. If they couldn't pay, they died on the spot. Scattered souls, obliterated.
And every one of them is now burdened with a record of wrongdoing. They're likely already back in the underworld, suffering punishment.
Burning in oil, climbing blades, all kinds of cruel torments—these are measured in years. If they can't endure, they'll be erased. Even if they survive, their yearly offerings will be cut short due to their record, and they may never get the chance to reincarnate before their soul dissolves.
And even if they do make it to the next life, anyone with a record of a moderate or higher offense won't get a healthy human body. They'll be reborn as beasts, or disabled.
Do you honestly think your paltry contribution points are worth gambling my lifespan—my afterlife?
The underworld has the Book of Life and Death—every thought, every motive recorded. If appeals worked, the punishments wouldn't be this harsh!
Stop courting annihilation. And if you insist, leave me out of it.
Even if I can't beat your guns and force, worst case I'll die. At least in the underworld, I'll have my ancestors watching over me.
Better that than being marked in the Book of Life and Death. It'll haunt not just this life, but every life after."
She didn't hold back anymore. The fury and fire she once used to scold those heartless bosses who withheld wages now lit up her voice again.
After venting all her frustration on the SEIU's out-of-touch leadership, Song Miaozhu had no interest in continuing the conversation.
The damage was done. No point pretending anymore.
"Gentlemen," she icily addressed Yuan Weiyuan and Lou Junchi, "leave. I'm done talking."
When they hesitated, glancing at the screen, she stood. "Fine, I'll go."
"Group Leader Yuan..." A hoarse voice crackled from the laptop. "End the call. Jinwen... we were wrong..."
"Father!"
The screen went black.
Yuan Weiyuan nodded at Lou Junchi, who began packing up the equipment.
"Master Song, we'll be going now. As for the announcement…"
Song Miaozhu narrowed her eyes, her expression clearly warning: try me, and I'll curse you with a paper doll.
Yuan Weiyuan felt a cold prickle across his skin, like needles brushing his spine.
"Apologies for the disturbance!" he said quickly.
They turned to leave. But just before exiting, Yuan Weiyuan peeked back in and called, "Once you've finished compiling the announcement, you can upload it anytime to the Jiangcheng SEIU mailbox through the app!"
Then he bolted.
"…"
Downstairs, the two men parted ways.
"You drive back, Captain," Lou Junchi said. "I live nearby, I'll walk."
"Alright. Get in early tomorrow. There's bound to be a lot happening."
They separated at the gate of the apartment complex.
A few moments later, they both reappeared outside Song Miaozhu's door.
"You again?"
"You too?"
They exchanged looks.
"Well, since we're both here… let's go in together."
As the head of the Jiangcheng SEIU, Yuan Weiyuan had also received the higher-ups' orders to recruit ghost members. Thanks to the city's large population and ample talent pool, he'd already gathered quite a few individuals unknowingly absorbing spiritual energy.
Some had even awakened spiritual sight—like Lou Junchi.
They had the manpower. So, when the order came, Yuan gave the command and Lou provided the technical support. Together, they built a ghost member network nearly as large as the living one.
Naturally, this put them squarely on the underworld's punishment list.
Earlier that night, just before they came looking for Song Miaozhu, both men had been visited in their dreams by underworld messengers informing them of their punishment. They woke to a call from the higher-ups—find someone with underworld connections. Find Song Miaozhu.
It was urgent, yes. But not just for official reasons.
They had their own skins to save too.