Just as Song Miaozhu was mentally scripting a dramatic battle between her army of paper soldiers and the corrupt elements of the SEIU, she heard Zhao Huoyan speak again.
"Master Song, if you really have a way to deal with the ghosts at Ghost Mountain, we'll do everything we can to cooperate. We won't put you in a difficult position."
Zhao Huoyan's voice was polite, composed, almost respectful.
"I understand the need for secrecy. Especially for your own safety."
Song Miaozhu leaned back, expression unreadable.
"I don't care about anyone's private affairs," Zhao Huoyan continued. "Neither does the Director. But we hope people with both talent and a sense of justice won't let caution hold them back. That would be a loss—for us, and for you."
"…What?" Song Miaozhu blinked. "What are you talking about?"
Had she accidentally revealed something? That couldn't be. She was not the kind of person who got swayed by a few sweet words.
And she definitely wasn't the type to perform emotional theater, so she simply played dumb. "I don't get it, Captain Zhao. What are you trying to say?"
Zhao Huoyan gave a small laugh. "You probably haven't checked the news."
He didn't wait for her response.
"Recently, most of the nation's top wanted criminals have either been caught… or turned themselves in."
Song Miaozhu didn't speak.
"Half of them walked in on their own," Zhao Huoyan said. "The others were reported after behaving oddly. Every single one described unexplained, unbearable pain. Hospitals couldn't find the cause.
But here's the thing—they were all on the Class-A list. All had committed major crimes: trafficking, murder, abduction. And they all began experiencing symptoms around the same time."
Song Miaozhu's gaze remained steady. "And what does this have to do with me?"
"Right before this wave, someone on the Lingcheng-to-Jiangcheng train spent hours studying fugitive profiles—even compiled detailed dossiers. Scared the young man beside her so much he posted about it online."
"Oh, and recently, similar cases popped up abroad… while a certain resident of a certain Lingcheng town just happened to have VPN activity matching those foreign searches."
Song Miaozhu: "..."
They'd traced it back to her?
That damned post!
Her seatmate—that cowardly guy actually went online to complain?!
Her silence said everything. Zhao Huoyan didn't press the point. He already had his answer. He had suspected it was her all along. And even if she had acted in secret, every single thing she had done so far had benefited the country and the people.
A person like her should not let her talents go to waste.
"Master Song," Zhao Huoyan said, his tone steady, "we can leave your secrets untouched.
"From now on, only the Director and I will handle any of your matters. Your privacy will be protected. If anyone within the SEIU tries to pry or makes you uncomfortable, we'll put a stop to it.
I can't vouch for everyone, but the Director and I, we give you our word. If you really do have a way to handle the Japanese ghosts, or any advice, we would be honored to receive your guidance. And we will support you fully."
On her end, Song Miaozhu stayed quiet.
This time, not because she was playing dumb, but because her mind was racing.
Agreeing to cooperate with the SEIU meant access to sites like Ghost Mountain across the country. She would have plenty of materials to collect cursed mediums from the spirits of Japanese soldiers. It would give her curse techniques endless practice fodder.
Even after completing her army of paper soldiers, her curse techniques remained irreplaceable. She couldn't afford to neglect them.
But could she really trust the SEIU?
The SEIU of the past had clashed with her too many times. They had tried to contain her, suppress her, investigate her. She hadn't forgotten. The only reason she had acted in the first place was to keep those ghosts from threatening her safety.
It hadn't been about justice. It had been self-preservation. Everything she'd done since then—building her army, refining her curse techniques—was to stay ahead of the things that could destroy her.
But now?
Now, the SEIU had a new head. A more rational one. And they were no longer trying to erase her. They wanted her to stand beside them.
That didn't mean she trusted them. But it did mean she had options.
She thought it through carefully. Then, finally, she said, "Let's talk in person. Tomorrow."
By tomorrow, she would have forty-nine paper soldiers ready to protect her. After that, she could ask them for a list of all the ghost mountains in the country. She could secretly send paper servants to collect spirit mud from the Japanese ghosts. Even if they guessed it was her, they wouldn't know how she did it.
Give her a little more time, and she could build a full army. By then, even if she was exposed, it wouldn't matter.
Zhao Huoyan thought her change in tone meant she was softening. Delighted, he said, "Then I'll visit personally tomorrow morning."
The SEIU still lacked enough skilled personnel to handle the sudden surge of spiritual phenomena. People like Song Miaozhu should have been top priority long ago. Even if she wouldn't officially join, keeping her on good terms was crucial. Letting her become an enemy of the SEIU was unacceptable.
"Alright," Song Miaozhu replied and hung up. She patted her chest and let out a deep breath.
"I really need to avoid talking to sharp people like Zhao Huoyan. They always manage to get something out of me!"
She grew even more determined to keep refining her army of paper soldiers. She couldn't outmaneuver them with words or strategy, so she'd stick to what she did best—paper crafting.
That was her true strength.
By now, the forty-eight paper soldiers hidden beneath the stone tiles had already been awakened with spiritual energy. When the final blessing was applied at midnight, they would become fully formed combatants—immune to blades and fire, resistant to pain, able to fight ten enemies at once.
Forty-nine elite bodyguards, all easily repaired if damaged. That gave her a real sense of security. The closer it got to completion, the more cautious Song Miaozhu became. Even though her mastery of the Secret Art of Paper Crafting had become second nature, she still spent the early evening reviewing her techniques one more time.
As midnight approached, she deployed her little paper servants to guard the house as usual. This was the most vulnerable time. She couldn't afford interruptions. Fortunately, she lived on Xiaozhu Hill, rarely ventured into town, and her house was quite secluded.
While there were no security cameras inside the courtyard, the area around it was fully covered—from the mountain path below all the way to her front door.
Not that she expected to catch anything serious. It was more to scare off petty thieves.
The system worked. Xiaozhu Hill was as safe as the town itself. No one dared sneak around here.
She wasn't especially worried. Just cautious.
With everything in place, Song Miaozhu went into her underground chamber. Once she'd restored her spiritual energy, she began awakening her paper soldiers one by one.
One. Two. Three…
While she calmly worked below, her little paper servants stood guard above.
Even in the monitoring room, two of them sat watching the cameras.
Everything seemed normal at first.
Then, halfway through midnight, the entire courtyard was suddenly plunged into darkness.
The power had gone out.
Though the surroundings vanished into blackness, Song Miaozhu's hands remained steady. Her practiced skill and spiritual sight adapted quickly, and she continued the awakening process.
The little paper servants held their posts.
Until… a rustling sound came from behind the courtyard wall.
On the monitor feed from one paper servant perched on the wall, several dark shadows came into view.