"Is that really possible?" Zhao Huoyan had only resorted to asking Old Man Zhao to handle this task out of sheer necessity.
The old man was the only member of the Lingcheng SEIU with an opened Heavenly Eye and the skill to conduct internal training. His craftsmanship far surpassed everyone else's. At the national SEIU, masters of his caliber were usually assigned to teaching duties—otherwise, they focused solely on cultivation. They wouldn't waste time on menial tasks like this.
"What if we directly assign the ancient text transcription task to you? The reward is 500 contribution points."
Song Miaozhu had initially planned to refuse and simply request monetary payment, but hearing "500 contribution points" made her instantly change her mind: "Deal!"
In the SEIU's app, 1 contribution point could be exchanged for 100 yuan!
500 points equaled 50,000 yuan—or, converted to hell coins, 25,000 coins, which was 250 low-grade spirit stones!
With thirty paper dolls consuming only three low-grade stones per day, this was pure profit.
Zhao Huoyan immediately transferred the task to her, and Song Miaozhu accepted it through the app.
When her eyes landed on her contribution point balance, she nearly gasped—87,100 points?!
A quick check of the records revealed why:
—Her reports on death energy and sickness energy, as well as spiritual energy and power, had each earned her 1,000 points.
—The discovery about using spiritual power to replace food and sleep had netted her 5,000 points.
—Her earlier communication with headquarters about the spiritual energy resurgence had been rewarded with a staggering 30,000 points.
—Sharing the contents of the ancient cultivation texts had added another 50,000.
—The remaining 100 points came from the Lingcheng University female ghost case.
"The SEIU is ridiculously generous!"
Now, the SEIU's monthly salary of a few thousand yuan seemed trivial—these internal tasks were clearly the real treasure. As long as she stayed ahead in strength and maintained good relations, she could keep taking on optional high-reward missions without even being a full member.
Old Man Zhao, upon hearing he was off the hook, exhaled in relief: "Transcribing is more exhausting than woodcarving!"
The texts were written in seal script, and some characters were so archaic he had to look them up, slowing him to a crawl.
"Then we'll take our leave? We'll leave the texts to you, Master Song." Zhao Huoyan was eager to escort the new recruits back to headquarters.
"Wait—I've confirmed with the ghost envoys about handling foreign spirits."
Zhao Huoyan's expression turned grave. "Mumu, recorder!"
Once the device was on, he nodded. "Proceed, Master Song."
Due to historical reasons, places like Golden Rose Villa's back mountain—overrun with foreign ghosts—were common nationwide. This was now a critical issue for the SEIU.
"Ever since cultivators disrupted the underworld's order in the last spiritual era, ghost envoys rarely come to the mortal realm to guide souls. Back then, they'd contact foreign underworlds to repatriate non-native spirits. Now, even local ghosts enter the underworld automatically—envoys don't intervene, nor do they handle foreigners. Their stance is: 'Mortal affairs belong to mortals.'"
Song Miaozhu continued, "Without the spiritual resurgence, these stranded ghosts would eventually dissipate, their essence returning to the cycle of reincarnation as pure soul energy. But now, with spiritual energy returning… who knows what might happen?"
Zhao Huoyan's face darkened. "So our country's ghosts abroad would face the same fate?"
Song Miaozhu paused, surprised he'd made the connection so quickly.
But the truth was brutal: just as foreign ghosts were trapped here, Chinese ghosts overseas were equally stranded. Spirits had national registrations. Without belonging to a local underworld, they couldn't find its entrance.
"Most likely."
"Apologies—I must report this immediately!" Zhao Huoyan contacted headquarters on the spot.
Minutes later, a video call came through—Feng Ru and Feng Jinwen requested to speak with Song Miaozhu directly.
She agreed without hesitation.
Previously, she'd seen this as just a local haunting issue—foreign spirits couldn't yet leave their burial sites, so there was time. But now, with Chinese ghosts abroad at risk, she felt compelled to help.
The call was abrupt, skipping pleasantries. Even Elder Feng Ru addressed her as "Master Song"—a title that felt odd but was standard for cultivators within the SEIU.
After she repeated the ghost envoys' explanation, Feng Jinwen cut to the chase:
"Master Song, if envoys can't enter the mortal realm, how did you contact them?"
"After our last call, we visited martyrs' graves. Their ghosts confirmed the spiritual resurgence. One grave's spirit had vanished—the others said he'd become a ghost envoy, severing the tomb's link to the mortal world."
Song Miaozhu's heart lurched. "I didn't know that!"
Feng Jinwen noticed her discomfort and gently pressed further: "Master Song… you must have a way to reach the Underworld yourself, don't you?"
Regret flooded her. "These aren't just craftsmen—they're politicians! How could I, a college student, outmaneuver them?"
Her expression betrayed her thoughts. Just as Feng Jinwen prepared another probe, Feng Ru intervened:
"Master Song, rest assured we mean no harm. The SEIU values cultivators. But we must repatriate our stranded ghosts and resolve the foreign spirit issue. If there's a way for the living to enter the underworld, we could send foreign ghosts there—once in the underworld, it becomes the envoys' duty. We could then retrieve our own ghosts from abroad."
Song Miaozhu shook her head. "My ability stems from my ancestors' papercraft legacy—a unique bond with the underworld. I can't take others in, living or dead, nor share the method."