The Night Wandering Spirit was inherently skilled in stealth attacks, appearing and vanishing without a trace, and striking a transcendental-stage Wugou master with ease. Though the broken heart still beat, blood gushed steadily. The cold young man did not immediately perish—his brown pupils contracted into golden vertical slits, his nose collapsed into two breathing pores, his lips stretched to the roots of his ears, his skin turned dark gray and black, and hard lumps formed. He transformed entirely into a grotesque, humanoid frog. Transformation! He was making a final, desperate stand. Yet just as the transformation was complete, his hand suddenly clenched tightly, crushing the fresh red heart beneath it. With the other hand, he plunged into the wound in his chest and tore with great force. The frog-like figure was torn in two, as easily as if cutting through a paper figure. From the initial attack to the complete tearing apart, the entire process lasted no more than three seconds. Li Zhengde’s eyes widened, and he remained utterly stunned. The high-ranking officer he had revered as a deity—someone capable of crushing steel with a pinch and shattering stone with a kick—was slain so effortlessly, as if merely crushed underfoot like a common insect. Li Zhengde finally made out the attacker—just an ordinary young man, plain and unremarkable, someone who would blend seamlessly into a crowd and go unnoticed. "Forgive me! Forgive me!" Li Zhengde began to plead as he opened his mouth, when suddenly he heard a crisp "crack," followed by the sight of his back and the corridor behind him. What... what has happened to me? His thoughts flashed through his mind, and then darkness swallowed him whole. Li Zhengde's neck twisted a full 180 degrees, and he collapsed to the ground, his bladder and bowels emptying uncontrollably, soaking his trousers, his legs trembling slightly. Zhang Yuanqing heard the ambient sounds of his reputation points being earned and his moral points being deducted from the spiritual realm interface, but he paid no attention. At this point, killing either an evil profession or an ordinary person wasn't enough to prompt him to check the data. Besides, when he killed this kind of villain, the local public security office would officially classify and close the case, and he would receive a more substantial moral points reward. And once he accumulated a solid base of moral points, any accidental civilian casualties in future battles would no Though he had always been extremely careful not to harm civilians, as his rank increased, so did the intensity of his impact—making it difficult to guarantee that no unforeseen incidents would occur. The awkward predicament of the Marshal, the President, and the club owner back in the beginning was the best proof. While he could choose not to act, he had to be prepared for unexpected developments. Zhang Yuanqing's eyes filled with dark, viscous energy as he gazed at the frog-like man's body, summoning the lingering spirit within the corpse. He opened his mouth and swallowed the lively, agitated spirit that writhed and clutched at him. Ten seconds later, after digesting the memory fragments of the spirit, he gave a sharp nod and dissolved into starlight. … At the construction site away from the green-shed dormitory, beneath a excavator, a group of young adults in shirts and floral dress shirts gathered around a square table, standing or sitting. They were playing "Zha Jin Hua" (a card game), laughing when they won and sighing when they lost. On the table, besides the cards, there were stacks upon stacks of paper currency. The most striking figure is a man with a tattoo, wearing a black shirt, jeans, a gold chain around his neck, and a cigarette tucked between his lips, eyes half-closed as he watches the cards with a commanding posture. "For heaven's sake, terrible hands!" The man in the black shirt throws his cards down and spits out half his cigarette, then firmly extinguishes it with his foot. The second game began. The gambling sage lit a cigarette, picked up two cards, glanced at them, then slowly uncurled the last one. The three cards were a "2," a "6," and a "9." Another set of poor cards! As the sage was about to curse out loud, a voice came from behind: "Hm, quite a poor hand!" "Poor cards!" the sage agreed, then paused, realizing he had no one behind him. He suddenly turned around to see a plain-looking young man standing there, having appeared without any prior notice. "You—" The sage's face changed instantly. This man wasn't one of the workers from the sand quarry—he was a complete stranger. Instinctively, the sage sat up straight, trying to create distance, but the very next moment, the man's hand gently rested on the top of his head. "Crack!" The sage's head burst like a watermelon, brain tissue and bone fragments shooting out in all directions, splashing across the table. The bystanders, some still holding their cards, froze in place, others staring in stunned silence at the lifeless body without a head—everyone was momentarily stunned. They had no chance to react; Ichiwan Mei drifted out from behind the host, emitting a wailing cry of a restless spirit. Plump, plump... several people at the table collapsed one after another, falling silent and lifeless. Zhang Yuanqing swallowed the spirit of the gambling sage as usual, then asked, "Ichiwan Mei, when you kill ordinary people, do you deduct moral points?" "Master," Ichiwan Mei pressed gently against the host's back, her tone deferential, "the moment you transformed me into a spirit of resentment, I lost my character card. Now I am your servant, not a traveler of the spiritual realm." "I've always wanted a master who would treat me badly, whip me, and make me suffer," she added. "Work hard. Say nothing else. Tonight, you're going to be drawn and killed," Zhang Yuanqing said coldly. "Yes, Master!" Excited and delighted, Ichiwan Mei brushed her hair and adjusted her posture. Zhang Yuanqing then walked to the bedside, gathering the stained stacks of cash. "Never collected—seized!" He then turned toward the green pavilion housing the male servants, and with a The air conditioner blows a steady stream of cool air. In the not particularly spacious room, a comfortable double bed stands, upon which a statuesque woman lifts her head, emitting soft, alluring sighs of pleasure. With her delicate features and well-proportioned figure—curvaceous in the hips—she is being approached by a young man on her thighs and another man behind her, engaging in a dual assault. While the woman revels in the moment, the two men appear completely out of their element, their expressions numb and mechanical, performing the same repetitive motions with little enthusiasm. At the bedside, two rows of bare men kneel, heads bowed, like royal attendants awaiting the queen's grace. Their faces and eyes betray no desire—instead, they display a sense of apprehension and nervousness. Indeed, this woman is truly a goddess of sensuality in female form. She should be entrusted to the魔君, who will surely leave her with lasting psychological scars, making her forever distant from male company. Zhang Yuanqing stands by the bed, admiring this rare scene of intimacy rarely seen even in domestic productions. He didn't mind being discovered by the women, because Itō Misaki had ignited the passion of the three men, immersing them in physical pleasure. At that moment, even if a gun were pressed against a woman's throat, she would remain utterly still—subconsciously drawing in the liquid with her lips. ——Of course, Zhang Yuanqing wouldn't surrender what he had seized. The two rows of male slaves kneeling by the side of the bed were lost in their own reverie, completely unaware of the sudden arrival of strangers. After observing for a while, Zhang Yuanqing grew bored. He reached out, grasping the woman's neck and applying gentle pressure. With a crisp snap, she fell silent—dying without a sound. The two men on the bed continued their movements, completely unaware that the woman had already passed. Zhang Yuanqing pulled out his phone and dialed the number of the pursuer. "Come in. The herbalists inside have all been dealt with." Five minutes later, the convoy entered the sand mining site. The pursuer arrived with official representatives. The criminal stationed at the main gate immediately raised the alarm, and over twenty armed assailants resting in the dormitories rushed out of their They only then realized that their companions at the sand extraction site had been brutally slaughtered, and the convoy captain surged straight into the site. "Dashing, dashing..." As the sound of the assault rifles erupted, the assailants' bodies were suddenly severed at the waist, as if cut by laser beams. That was the sword energy of the pursuers of the poison. In just one round, the remaining forces at the sand extraction site were completely eliminated. The convoy halted, and the official agents advanced with rifles, searching for surviving enemies. The pursuer surveyed the scene, first pausing at the frog-like humanoid and Li Zhengde, who lay fallen beside the women's dormitory. A surprise attack from behind—killed instantly. His gaze flickered, deeply studying the frog-like humanoid, now split in two. Then he walked steadily toward the gambling sage. The body was leaning forward, the skull crushed—again, a sudden strike from behind, killing instantly. He was particularly skilled at ambush attacks. Then, the pursuer turned to the shrimp and crab troops, and was taken aback once more. These individuals showed no physical injuries at all—seemingly as though their souls had been simply erased. To date, no fire master has been able to make an impact. Indeed, he is not even a fire master. "Report, Sir. All the armed personnel from the sand extraction site have been eliminated—totaling thirty-eight. On the eastern side, we discovered a munitions warehouse containing several tens of kilograms of poison and twenty crates of cash. In the dormitory area, we found men and women who had been abducted; they are now under control and being screened for any potential infiltrators," said Wang Xiao'er, the scout, returning with a rifle and delivering the news in a loud, enthusiastic tone. His expression was joyful and animated. The pursuer of the poison nodded in satisfaction and asked, "Where is Master Sanqing Daozhu?" Wang Xiao'er's animated expression suddenly stiffened, and he lowered his voice. "He—he's currently collecting the cash from the sand extraction site." The pursuer paused, startled, and exclaimed, "The funds must be confiscated. Prevent him from doing so." Wang Xiao'er shrunk back. "I'd rather you go yourself. I'm not bold enough to handle it." After a moment's reflection, the pursuer realized he himself was equally hesitant, his With courage drawn from his knightly commitment to discipline, he strode confidently toward the ammunition store only to find the Three Pure Ones already gone, their funds completely wiped out. In the forest to the west of the sand mining site, Zhang Yuanqing, wearing the Wind-Bringer gloves, summoned a gale strong enough to bend the tree branches, and from afar spotted the figures of Xie Lingxi and her companions. He immediately descended, removed his gloves, and with a crisp snap of his fingers, materialized beside them. "Master Yuan Shi, this should be the place where the King of the Underworld is resting," Anne said. "We've found numerous animal corpses scattered across this area, all showing signs of collective death and decay—this matches precisely with the duration of the King's slumber." "We need to pinpoint the exact location of the King's slumber," Zhang Yuanqing said. Anne promptly replied, "Based on our initial survey, the King's slumber has an influence radius of approximately five hundred meters. We can use the positions of the animal remains to determine the outer circumference and then calculate the center point." "Go ahead and do it!" Zhang Yuanqing said. None of the three women moved "We've completely forgotten how to calculate the center point." "Anne and the Queen understand that, after all, they're getting older. But what about you, Xingxi? You're a high school student, aren't you?" "Brother Yuan, I'm just not a strong student." "Actually, I never studied much. After all, in the spiritual realm, we're blessed with wealth and status. Studying and striving—those are things I, a commoner, have to do. You just need to relax and settle. Everyone else is just a pile of underachievers, and it's up to me, this top student, to solve everything." Zhang Yuanqing said this while facing away from everyone, quietly pulling out his phone to search: "How to find the center point!" "What are you doing, Brother Yuan?" "Someone from the pursuit team sent me a message—I'm just replying." Not long after, Zhang Yuanqing quickly determined the center point. It was clear, free of weeds and shrubs, located under several pine trees, within a ten-meter radius. Zhang Yuanqing walked back and forth beneath the trees, scanning the ground carefully. "Brother Yuan, I "Xie Lingxi felt she should demonstrate the common sense of a high school student." "I know," Zhang Yuanqing continued searching. "Normal DNA degrades over time, but hair is more stable. If he's been asleep for three days, maybe he's lost his hair." "Such a well-reasoned point," Xie Lingxi was convinced. After all, even the travelers from the Spirit Realm slept and often lost hair—she herself did it regularly. A moment passed, and Zhang Yuanqing, finding no human hair, sighed. "Well, if he hasn't lost his hair, then we'll have to resort to the most basic method." "It'll have to be the most foolish approach," he said, pulling out the Purple Thunder Mallet and switching it to circular shield mode, beginning to dig through the soil. "The most foolish approach?" Annie found his actions puzzling. "He's slept here, so the soil must carry his essence. I'll take it back with me. When I use the Star-Viewing Technique, these soil samples will offer me insights—they're the only items directly connected to the King of the Underworld." Zhang Yuanqing explained. Annie's eyes sparkled with delight. "With these soils, can we find him?" "Definitely not," said Zhang Yuanqing, "but we should be able to pinpoint the general area. Then we can conduct a thorough search—though we'll have to wait until he falls asleep, otherwise our search will startle him." The advantage of the Thunder Strategy is that the enemy has absolutely no opportunity to relay the message to the Sovereign's stronghold. In Zhang Yuanqing's memory, the spiritual energy conduits visit each stronghold every morning at 9 a.m., reporting that all is well. Yet today's first operation began at 11:30 a.m., and by 3 a.m., all the strongholds had been eliminated. When the Sovereign realized this in the morning, he found himself isolated and completely unsupported. This kind of strategy requires not only overwhelming superiority but also the skill of a night-wanderer—other professions simply cannot execute it. Even the Star Officials, who are capable of consuming so many spiritual beings in a single day, would suffer significant mental strain. Zhang Yuanqing is different—he is half a pure Yang body. All employees of the Nanming branch gathered together, with an array of delicious dishes arranged on long tables—beef-braised fish, Luosifan noodles, vinegar-braised duck blood, and field snail-stuffed dishes. Officials and clerical staff sat at the tables, smiling warmly, their eyes shining with delight. Reflecting on the events of this morning, afternoon, and evening, they still find it hard to believe, as if floating in clouds or living in a dream. Field operatives personally witnessed the elimination of one after another outposts and the execution of numerous criminals, expressing deep admiration for the three senior deans, so profound that they would willingly step down from their posts as branch directors to make room for them. In contrast, office-based clerks found the entire sequence utterly mythical. In the morning, Xue Haiyuan, full of energy, passionately declared, "The Fang family's sand mining operation has been completely wiped out," prompting enthusiastic cheers. Immediately, they proceeded to issue orderly instructions to security personnel to clear the bodies and rescue the innocent victims who had been abducted. Yet as one after another of the outposts were systematically eliminated, the office clerks grew puzzled, even convinced that "The Vast Sea of Learning" was merely dreaming, suffering from a nervous disorder. The female assistant specifically called the on-site investigators to verify the situation. It was as if they were dreaming. Indeed, they were. Among the visiting stewards from the Qinghe branch, many had grand ambitions, but how could they possibly uncover the spiritual energy outposts? The outposts themselves were frequently relocated—lasting anywhere from two to three years, or as briefly as a few months—making them hard to track and prone to ambush. After several such attempts, the stewards grew complacent. The members of the Nanming branch moved from disappointment to resignation, no longer holding out hope. Some with favorable conditions chose to leave Nanming City, while others remained steadfast, struggling to hold on. Finally, after a long period of stagnation, the headquarters dispatched an exceptionally powerful senior steward who decisively swept away the long-standing spiritual energy outposts. Though the forces would inevitably return, at least a period of stability lasting over a year was secured. The cheers in the office lasted from morning until evening. Everyone was full of energy, actively reaching out to local police departments and organizing the aftermath with remarkable efficiency—since the action team had not eaten lunch, they stayed at their desks, never venturing to the canteen. Dinner was quickly consumed, and then they resumed their coordination duties, now so hungry they could barely sit still, yet no one dared to lift their fork, their eyes fixed on the pursuer. The pursuer quietly rose, the stern expression on her face melting like winter ice, revealing a rare smile to the group. She raised her cup and said, "A great victory today—let's welcome the Third Celestial Sovereign to speak." Everyone turned to the Third Celestial Sovereign! A humble yet compelling steward.