Lu Jing didn't answer; instead, he asked, "Do you know who the grandfather of Jingguo is?" Tao Siming shook his head. He had joined the Anti-Black-and-White Alliance only twenty years ago, and back then, Deng Jingguo's father had already returned to the Spiritual Realm. In fact, the Anti-Black-and-White Alliance was originally Deng Family's legacy—Tao was merely a rising star who had become a shareholder due to his outstanding business acumen. Of course, Tao and Deng were close friends with shared aspirations and not strangers. That's why he was able to sit here tonight. "My grandfather..." Deng Jingguo also furrowed his brows. "From childhood until now, I've never heard my father mention him." Lu Jing nodded. "He certainly couldn't speak of him—he might not have lived to adulthood. Your grandfather's name is Hu Zhengkui." The name Hu Zhengkui stirred a wave of astonishment in both Deng Jingguo and Tao Siming. Two masters who had weathered great storms stood utterly still. Among the Chinese-Canadians in Newbury County, few people don't know Hu Zhengkui—well, perhaps the younger generation isn't familiar with him, but those among the mid-to-older age groups are very well aware of who Hu is. He founded the Lingjing "mob" organization (a local gang) in the town of Newbury County and was an active figure in the Lingjing community during the 20th century. Since their arrival, the Chinese-Canadian community has consistently faced unfair treatment, capital pressures, and racial discrimination. Early immigrants worked in physically demanding jobs—such as mines, farms, cigar factories, and timber mills—that white workers were reluctant to take. During the free federal economic crisis, when many white workers lost their jobs, the Chinese-Canadians, who had been able to maintain a stable livelihood, became targets for government policy shifts and political blame. As a result, white communities voiced strong criticism, and the government responded with measures such as anti-Chinese legislation, leaving the Chinese-Canadian community struggling to maintain a decent standard of living. Against this backdrop, a spiritual realm practitioner organization—essentially a mafia—emerged, known as the "Brotherhood." It connected the poor masses below with the affluent elite above, working in collaboration and negotiation with the government while countering the pressures from the capitalist class, and even resorting to armed resistance when necessary. At its peak, nine out of ten Chinese-American practitioners were members of the Brotherhood. However, the complex membership structure led to internal instability. While Ho Zhengkui was alive, everyone respected him, and the Brotherhood managed to survive through steady, albeit turbulent, efforts. After Ho Zhengkui returned to the spiritual realm, with the active support of the New Covenant County government, the Brotherhood split into three major organizations—today's renowned Chinese-American spiritual realm practitioner groups: the Black Dragon Hall, the Bao Lin Hall, and the Hong Association. "My father was Ho Zhengkui's illegitimate son?" Deng Jingguo murmured to himself. Lu nodded, his tone weathered: "When Grandfather Ho returned to the Spiritual Realm, your father was still a minor figure. The Brotherhood had split, and he dared not reveal his identity, so he took me and we set out to build our own careers together. As our ranks grew, we eventually founded the Anti-Black-and-White Alliance. The name reflects two things: first, it honors Grandfather Ho's legacy; second, in the Free Federation, who hasn't been squeezed by those people?" The slender elder lifted his teacup to clear his throat and continued: "Grandfather Ho was an extraordinary Spiritual Realm traveler—during his youth, he journeyed across Europe, where he worked as a bounty hunter for a while. He met the Pope, though I don't know exactly how that happened. Your father never mentioned it, and perhaps he doesn't either. A century ago, Europe reportedly experienced an unprecedented upheaval. As the world's most powerful organization of Spiritual Realm travelers, the Church itself had fallen." "Before the Pope passed away, he entrusted an item to Old Mr. Huo. Perhaps because Mr. Huo was of Chinese-Hong Kong heritage—back then, he still wore the Qing Dynasty-style queue, which made him stand out awkwardly in Europe. No one would have thought the Pope would hand over such a precious relic to a man with a queue. Thus, Mr. Huo carried the Pope's relic from Europe to the New Covenant County, where he founded the Brotherhood. In his later years, he passed the relic down to his natural son, who became the father of Jingguo. For the same reason—since the natural son's status was more discreet—my brother also passed the Pope's relic on to his natural son, Jia Feizhang. "If the old Master Ho can't secure it for some reason, it should be passed on to a strong heir, so that the descendants can carry it forward. At the very least, trading it for a heavenly punishment would be better than handing it over to a bastard son." Deng Jingguo sneered. "My father, though a bastard, is also a Spirit Realm traveler—stronger than even us." Bookish Tao Siming chuckled sadly. "Then I don't understand your father's decision—why give it to Jia Feichang instead of to you? Does Master Tao think Jia Feichang can become a Spirit Realm traveler?" "All of that matters little now," Lu Jing said firmly. "The Holy Pope's relics must not fall into others' hands. Since Jia Feichang has passed away, they shall be entrusted to Jingguo. We must reclaim the Holy Pope's relics." Deng Jingguo furrowed his brows. "Uncle Lu, we don't even know who our enemies are. How can we possibly reclaim them? And we may not even have the strength to do so." Lujing, with his full head of silver hair, was especially assertive and immediately stated, "Then we'll report it to Tianfa and have Tianfa reclaim it. At the very least, we'll secure a fee from them." Deng Jingguo and Tao Siming exchanged glances and neither objected. "That's settled," said Lujing, pulling out his phone to contact the senior management of Tianfa's branch in Xin Yue County. "I've had several interactions with Wei Ni Bertren; she's a principled thunder mage, though she can be somewhat distant." At that moment, Tao Siming's phone buzzed softly beside him. He pulled it out and glanced at it, his face suddenly turning pale. "Wait!" Lujing and Deng Jingguo turned to look at him. Tao Siming looked puzzled, holding the phone upright and facing both of them, "The quest we posted at the Hunter's Guild—our task has been completed!" ... The next day, at 8 a.m. Zhang Yuanqing woke up, brushed his teeth, and went to the living room to find Anne already having laid out breakfast, thoughtfully tearing the pancakes into pieces and soaking them in the salty soy milk. Her own breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and sweet soy milk. "Why do you drink sweet soy milk?" "I'm not used to salty soy milk." "Promise me you'll stop drinking sweet soy milk from now on." "...” After breakfast, Zhang Yuanqing slipped her phone into her pocket, turned the door handle, and stepped out of the room, just in time to see Cao Qianxiu leading her brother out. Gao Chao still had tears on his face, holding a popsicle in his hand—uncertain whether it was from being scolded by his mother or his sister. When they met face to face, Cao Qianxiu suddenly stopped, her eyes brightened, yet she remained hesitant and didn't speak, standing frozen in place. Zhang Yuanqing stepped forward, patted Gao Chao's head, and smiled, "What's wrong?" Gao Chao burst into tears, clinging to his brother's leg, wiping away tears and nose runs as he cried, "I wanted two popsicles, but Mom wouldn't let me have them. She called me a 'cover boy'!" "Now go back and tell your mom: call me “Zhang Yuanqing said, ‘She’ll make you eat two popsicles.’ ‘Really?’ The little boy widened his innocent eyes. ‘I used to yell at my mom the same way when I was young—definitely going to work!’ Zhang Yuanqing offered courage and encouragement. Cao Chao thought for a moment, inspired by his longing for popsicles and his trust in the neighbor’s brother, stepped confidently to open the security door and rushed into the living room to confront the landlord’s wife. Only then did Zhang Yuanqing turn to the neighbor girl and take the initiative to speak: ‘Sorry, I’ve been holding back my actual rank.’ Cao Qianxi smiled warmly, a little shyly, ‘Back then, our trust level wasn’t strong enough—how would anyone tell a stranger their real rank?’ You didn’t say it, did you… Zhang Yuanqing thought internally, hesitating not to mention it, afraid the proud girl would feel embarrassed. Cao Qianxi hesitated slightly, then cautiously asked, ‘As for joining the Anti-Black-and-White Alliance…’ ‘I think it’s quite interesting. Before I returned home, I was a member of the Sixth Group Zhang Yuanqing gave a positive reply. Cao Qianxi subtly exhaled a sigh of relief. "Then, if it's just a regular group gathering..." "If I have time, I'll attend," Zhang Yuanqing nodded. A smile appeared on the girl's face. At that moment, a piercing, pig-slaughtering cry erupted from inside the room. Cao Chao rushed out, weeping profusely, looking utterly devastated at Zhang Yuanqing, pleading with tears. He had also dropped the popsicle in his hand. "Did it not work?" Zhang Yuanqing thought for a moment and said, "Next time, try saying, 'Thirty years of river east, thirty years of river west—never underestimate the young and poor.'" Cao Chao cried even louder. "Alright, alright. Now go knock on door 403. Aunt Anne will compensate you with a package of snacks." Cao Chao immediately stopped crying: "Really?" "When have I ever lied to you?" Zhang Yuanqing asked. "Really!" Cao Chao bounced excitedly and headed for the door. Watching her brother's silly demeanor, Cao Qianxiu's expression grew somewhat complex. "Sometimes I wonder if you're truly a scout. I remember scouts are military people—serious and formal." "That's because you don't know the second district well. Every group has its outliers. Seriousness and formality are the group's character, not individual traits. There are always those who aren't quite serious or formal." Zhang Yuanqing was giving her a hair wash. "I know one fire officer who's more insightful than even a scholar. I also know a scholar who's more flamboyant than a fire officer. And there's another outstanding scout—someone who loves hearing flattery and who enjoys watching others bow down immediately..." Cao Qianxiu listened intently. …… At 9:30 a.m., dressed in civilian clothes, Zhang Yuanqing had transformed himself into the image of a bald middle-aged man, Jia Feizhang, and entered the Meisheng Bank building. He walked straight to the reception desk and said to the tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed woman, "Good morning. I'm looking for Will George. He's my client manager." "Please wait a moment." The female receptionist bent down to operate her computer, then looked up and said, "Wil George has already retired for many years." Retired? Hmm, that means Jia Feizhong hasn't opened the safe in over three decades... Zhang Yuanqing said, "I'd like to open the safe, number 0042." The female receptionist replied, "Could you please present your valid identification?" A transparent vortex appeared in Zhang Yuanqing's eyes. "You've already seen my valid identification." The receptionist blinked, then smiled warmly, "Please, follow me!" She led Zhang Yuanqing into the bank and knocked on the manager's door, "Manager, this gentleman would like to open the safe."