By this point, Song Miaozhu's spiritual energy was nearly depleted, and she was mentally exhausted. Still, she forced herself to stack all the little paper figures together, then placed the bluestone brick on top, ensuring not even a corner peeked out.
Next, she absorbed another trace of the Supreme Spirit Stone's energy, replenishing her reserves. Dipping her brush in cinnabar, she focused her spiritual power at the tip and wrote a bold "Gather" (聚) character on the stone's surface. On each of its four sides, she inscribed a smaller "Suppress" (镇) character.
The "Suppress" characters were meant to control the partially awakened paper soldiers, while "Gather" fused pure soul energy with her spiritual power, creating a unique soul-state between life and death.
This kind of spirit would attach to the paper, connect with her will like the little paper servants, and obey her commands. They would fear neither blades nor fire, and would fight fiercely to protect her.
Still, this was only the first step. True formation of the paper soldiers would take forty-nine days. Each night at midnight, she would need to take them out from under the stone and re-infuse them with spiritual energy, repeating the ritual.
Any mistake during this period would ruin all her work so far.
If she lifted the bluestone before the forty-nine days were up, the unfinished paper soldiers would go berserk, losing all control and turning on anyone they encountered. Since she was their creator, any harm they caused would be counted as her crime.
This room had to be kept sealed for the next forty-nine days. No one was allowed near it.
Song Miaozhu locked the door herself and stationed several little paper servants all along the path from the basement entrance to the ritual chamber. With them guarding the area, even a mosquito wouldn't be able to sneak in.
She also decided not to leave the house at all during this time. Even deliveries were sent to the warehouse by the pig farm and brought back through the ghost shop's storage.
During the day, she continued other paper crafting techniques, now using qi from the supreme-grade spirit stone to speed up her cultivation. Her power grew at an impressive rate.
She had also started using the spirit infusion method to refine her substitute paper servants.
As for her curse rituals, not a single day was skipped.
Every evening, she prepared for midnight by practicing paper-cutting and energy infusion, making sure she could flawlessly complete the forty-nine paper soldiers at the appointed time without any mistakes.
Only after finishing the nightly ritual would she replenish her qi and attend her classes in the underworld.
The paper soldier technique was just the beginning. She needed to learn the complete paper-crafting methods and how to create more diverse types of paper constructs.
Immersed in cultivation, Song Miaozhu tuned out the outside world. She stopped paying attention to the SEIU and all the drama it stirred up.
Three days later, when Chen Yuanyuan shared a death notice with her, she finally remembered to check in on how that whole fiasco had played out.
One search later, she was shocked to find that of the nine names listed in the Underworld's punishment notice, eight were already dead.
The announcements had been made quietly by other departments where they had worked—scattered, barely trending. If you weren't actively searching, you would have missed them entirely.
The only one still alive was Feng Ru.
He was the only one among them who had real skill and decent cultivation. Song Miaozhu figured he was hanging on thanks to sheer spiritual force.
While she was chatting with Chen Yuanyuan, Zhao Mumu called again.
"Miaozhu! The SEIU finally responded! Open the app, quick!"
She opened it.
Right at the top was a video response from the Central SEIU Headquarters, addressing the Underworld punishment incident.
The background looked familiar. It was the same wall from that video call a few days ago—must be the hospital.
Wrinkled, liver-spotted Feng Ru sat slumped in a wheelchair. Around him were several familiar faces from the Level Twelve Moderate Evil list: Feng Jinwen, Yu Junhao, Wang Zhijie...
All of them had been key players behind the scenes. They hadn't made the final decisions, but they definitely knew the plan.
Song Miaozhu counted. "Huh? A few people are missing."
Feng Jinwen stood beside his father, reading from a piece of paper in a solemn tone:
"I, Feng Ru, speak on behalf of the entire committee to express our deep remorse.
We were arrogant. We underestimated the power and methods of the Underworld. Out of selfishness, we ignored Master Song's warnings and pressed ahead with the 'Underworld Plan,' which led to this disaster.
This was our doing—mine and the committee's. Others were only dragged in because they could not refuse us old men.
The rest of the committee has already passed away. I alone remain, clinging to life, but I am now a useless shell, unable to lift a brush or speak clearly.
No punishment we suffer can ever make up for the harm caused to those in both the living and underworld realms.
I hereby resign as SEIU Director and vow to spend the rest of my life in repentance."
It was a letter of repentance, read aloud by Feng Jinwen. Once a renowned calligrapher and restorer of ancient texts, Feng Ru could no longer even hold a brush. His path of cultivation had come to an end.
Tragic? Sure. But Song Miaozhu felt not a shred of pity.
This wasn't a confession. It was a public relations stunt.
Feng Jinwen's delivery was smooth, but the message was clear: a shameless whitewash.
Feng Ru's "repentance" served only to absolve Feng Jinwen and the others.
Did he truly regret it?
Song Miaozhu doubted it.
The underworld's judgment didn't lie. If Feng Jinwen and the others had genuinely opposed the plan, they wouldn't have been branded "Twelve-Level Mid-Level Evil."
Reluctant participants would've received lighter sentences.
Could anyone actually believe this hollow apology?
She checked the comments—and nearly laughed.
[We understand.]
[They've suffered enough.]
[Let bygones be bygones.]
The once-outraged public had miraculously turned into paragons of forgiveness.
Not a single familiar username in sight.
"Ah. Bought comments."
The SEIU wasn't even trying to hide its manipulation.
Did they think people were this stupid?
Disgusted, she was about to exit when a new notification popped up:
The livestream showed a man she didn't recognize but whose face gave her a faint sense of familiarity.
"What the...?"
Feng Ru had gone out of his way to stage a redemption arc, but Feng Jinwen still didn't get the top job?
Curious, she clicked in.
The backdrop was familiar again—same meeting room from that first video call.
A firm-looking officer sat at the head of the room, flanked by armed soldiers.
"Hello everyone. I am Zhao Quanshu, the newly appointed Director of the SEIU, designated by the State.
I am here to announce disciplinary action against former SEIU Director Feng Ru and Deputy Director Feng Jinwen, the key planners and executors of the 'Underworld Plan.'
Feng Ru abused his position for personal gain and caused enormous damage to the organization. Effective immediately, all his positions are revoked.
Feng Jinwen withheld information, mishandled critical issues, and put personal interest above public duty. Effective immediately, all his positions are revoked as well.
Furthermore…"
A new era had begun.