Monday, the weather was clear. In a place like Songhai, morning peak-hour commutes are always a headache—whether on elevated roads or ground-level streets, the traffic is so congested it raises one’s blood pressure. Ordinary office workers traveling by subway don’t face traffic jams, but they endure the ordeal of being surrounded from all sides. Under the early sunlight, Zhang Yuanqing carried his backpack and rode a shared bicycle through Songhai's bustling streets, chewing on a pancake and egg bun. He effortlessly passed one after another private cars, business vehicles, and buses, his youthful energy flowing freely with his hair strands. Songhai University is five to six kilometers from Grandmother’s house; it takes only fifteen minutes by bike, so he doesn’t live on campus. Due to his promotion as a Night Wandering Deity, the usual cycling fatigue has been intense—today, however, he kept pedaling without pause until he reached the university gate, checking his smartphone and finding that it had taken just ten minutes. Had there not been so many electric scooters on the bike lanes, he could have gone even faster. Founded in the early 20th century, Songhai University is now one of the top institutions nationwide. Besides its excellent faculty resources, two key characteristics stand out: flower hunters are often skilled at finding suitable partners, and brave young men are willing to engage in sword combat. Grandmother used to advise Aunt that girls should learn how to protect themselves at school. As they age, she also urged her grandson boys to do the same. Grandmother is deeply dissatisfied with today’s world. Entering the campus, passing by the main axis with statues of founders, he slowly rode along a pathway lined with ginkgo trees toward the teaching buildings. The campus environment is elegant and peaceful—students either filming videos or chatting on benches, or hurrying to class with books in hand. Wide, clean streets, lush lawns, and older dormitory buildings all together give the impression of a quiet upscale residential neighborhood; the university atmosphere doesn’t feel strong. Zhang Yuanqing parked his bicycle outside the building, carried his backpack, and entered the main administrative building. Arriving at the trapezoidal classroom, he took a quick glance: students were scattered around in small groups, with many having skipped class. He picked a seat at random and just as he settled down, two male students spoke softly behind him: “I just saw Xu Yingying at the entrance—she’s waiting again for her patron.” “Nonsense. How could my goddess be supported by someone?” “Really? Every Monday, men come to pick her up in cars worth hundreds of thousands. I saw one as recently as last Monday.” “Are you sure? Maybe it’s just a ride-hailing service.” “Would you kiss the driver of such a service?” “…Ugh. When did things change? In high school, girls liked top students; now in college, they prefer wealthy men outside the academic world. How can ordinary guys stand up at all?” Xu Yingying is one of their classmates and a strikingly beautiful girl—she is the class’s most popular female student. Zhang Yuanqing couldn’t help but turn around and casually quipped: “Even your hard drive's wife can help you rise.” The two male students seemed surprised that Zhang Yuanqing had spoken up, pausing for a moment. Zhang Yuanqing looked at them, asking, “What’s going on?” Li Le-sheng, one of the male classmates, gave out a short “hmm”: “Something must have happened to you today—this doesn’t sound like your usual self.” Zhang Yuanqing was momentarily startled: “Why do you say that?” Just as Li Le-sheng began to respond, a teacher wearing black-framed glasses entered the classroom with a book in hand. The lively chatter instantly quieted down. ... In the Maile Hotel, Kangyang District. “Ding!” On the 16th floor, the elevator door opened. Li Dongze stepped out of the lift, dressed in a formal suit paired with a black vest and white shirt, holding a cane. His slender face was marked by gravity and seriousness; behind him walked Guan Ya. All guests on this floor had been cleared out. A security line had been drawn at the intersection leading to the hall, where two officers stood guard. Guan Ya approached, pulled out her ID card, and gestured. The officers immediately stepped aside. Along the corridor toward the rooms, several uniformed officers were busy—some taking photos, others collecting fingerprints or hair samples. Li Dongze walked past them, entered his room, and immediately smelled a strong scent of blood. He scanned the hotel suite: two bodies lay on the bed, covered by white sheets, with wide areas of dark red stains spreading over the pristine bed linens. With his cane, he lifted the sheet to reveal two naked figures lying on the bed. After a brief pause, he spoke in a calm yet solemn tone: “It is indeed Zhao Yingjun.” Guan Ya carefully examined every corner of the room; delicate strands of white mist rose from her eyes, and after a while she said: “There are no signs of struggle or human interference—only two condoms found in the trash bin, though three were missing from the box.” She then gently looked at the female victim with sympathy. Li Dongze replaced the sheet and said solemnly: “Guan Ya, please stay here to assist the officers in collecting fingerprints, hair samples, and reviewing the surveillance footage. I’ll need to contact Fu Bai Fu Chang and the team leaders—perhaps we should convene a meeting.” Guan Ya nodded slightly: “I will share all details of the scene and personal information with you via your smartphone shortly.” Zhao Yingjun is an advisor at the Xiangshui Road Public Security Bureau, a member of the White Tiger Army, and holds the rank of Level 2 Scout. The death of one member of the Five Elements Alliance is a major event. ... On the second floor of the villa, a small conference room. The room is elegantly furnished—soft wool carpet covers the floor, with a long wooden table placed in the center. On the table sit a beautifully arranged fruit platter, translucent ham slices, an imported wine, boxes of cigars, and delicate pastries and desserts. At the far end of the table hangs a white projection screen displaying a segment of hotel surveillance footage. In the video, a man wearing a baseball cap and mask walks toward the elevator entrance, reaches the guest room door, retrieves a key card, opens the door, and enters. Forty minutes later, he emerges from the room, hands in his pockets, head down, and exits. After the video ends, Li Dongze presses the pause button and turns to the team leaders: “Early this morning, staff members were unable to open a room door during cleaning; upon entering, they found both occupants deceased. Zhao Yingjun had been subjected to physical abuse—scattered knife wounds all over his body, with hands and feet bound—but the fatal injury was caused by a deep stab through his heart. The female victim is Liu Xiao’e—the same person who had been stabbed through the chest, without any signs of abuse. Based on the missing condoms, we suspect she may have been disrespected before her death. We checked both of their mobile phones and confirmed that Liu Xiao’e was Zhao Yingjun’s mistress. We reviewed surveillance footage from other entrances and exits—yet we found no trace of how the killer left. He must have used a special method to avoid detection. We initially suspect he is a Realm Walker.” There are six people seated at the table. At the head of the table sits a young man in a white suit, embodying noble grace with an aristocratic air and a stylish short ponytail—his facial contours appear carved with precision, elegant and unapproachable. The first seat on his left is empty—the spot where Li Dongze would normally sit. To the right of him is a woman holding an orange cat, dressed in a traditional ink-and-wash robe; her mature figure radiates charm and refinement, with well-maintained, smooth skin and a naturally pale complexion, adorned lightly with makeup—her presence calm and serene. Beside her is a middle-aged man wearing a miner’s hat and protective workwear—the dark skin of his face reflects the years of labor. Across from her sits a fitness trainer in a tight-fitting suit; broad shoulders match the slimness of a woman's waist, with sharp features and an intense demeanor—her expression often carries a sense of irritation. At the end is a woman aged twenty-seven or twenty-eight, dressed in a white racing suit with form-fitting pants and wavy black hair, her face oval and elegant—a combination of grace and strength. These five are the captains of the Kangyang District Realm Walker team; several others could not attend due to various reasons. The young man in the white suit glanced around, his deep brown eyes calm as still lakes, saying softly: “Everyone—what do you think? Qingteng, you begin.” The woman in the ink-and-wash robe slightly frowned: “Ordinary Realm Walkers wouldn’t dare to kill official personnel. Could it be someone from the Evil Organization?” Li Dongze responded: “We are still investigating Zhao Yingjun’s recent personal relationships.” If the perpetrator were an Evil Organization member, then the incident would take on a more serious tone. The Fire Master, Da Ji Ba, raised her eyebrows and expressed anger: “Evil Organization? These underlings from the back alleys—how dare they kill one of our Five Elements Alliance members! I’ll make sure they pay for it.” Others in the room looked thoughtful. The White Dragon, who is seated, asked quietly: “What was Zhao Yingjun’s fighting ability?” Li Dongze turned to Fu Qingyang. Fu Qingyang replied: “He has one defensive prop.” On hearing this, the White Dragon’s expression grew serious: “Although a Level 2 Scout isn’t particularly skilled in combat, having a defense tool makes it harder to kill him—especially without disturbing the guests in adjacent rooms. This gives us a solid indication of the killer's strength.” The construction company owner wearing a miner’s hat, Tang Guoqiang, said calmly: “Very strong.” Da Ji Ba gave a short scoff and repeated: “Strong? So what? If he can kill one of our Five Elements Alliance members, even if he is strong—he will die.” The White Dragon silently rested her hand on her forehead, thinking how to handle the matter—could the team just push out the less competent member from the Red Fire Clan. Li Dongze continued: “We’ve found that Zhao Yingjun has several mistresses, especially fond of supporting female college students. We are now systematically reviewing each one.” Da Ji Ba asked: “Why?” “Zhao Yingjun’s meeting locations with his mistresses vary—yet the killer knows exactly which hotel and room number to target. This shows a deep understanding of Zhao Yingjun's movement patterns—either someone personally acquainted, or someone who has been closely monitoring him for a long time.” Li Dongze explained: “The one person who knows you best is always your woman at home—with this insight, we may be able to uncover some clues from his mistresses.” All the captains nodded with serious expressions. Li Dongze continued: “Zhao Yingjun was physically questioned and abused before he died. Consider—what questions did the killer ask? What information was extracted? Regardless of whether it was a personal vendetta or an Evil Organization case, this is something we must take seriously.” The captains’ expressions grew more serious. For years, the Evil Organization and the Orderly Profession have been at odds with each other—constantly hunting and pursuing one another. It makes sense that the Evil Organization would be interested in information from official Realm Walkers—even their hidden locations. And if the killer were not an Evil Organization member—a strong Realm Walker willing to risk offending the official organization, entering the hotel, questioning and killing two people—the underlying truth might be even more complex. Qingteng said firmly: “We must swiftly identify the murderer.” Da Ji Ba looked around, then asked: “Why isn’t Yuan Ting here? Can't he absorb Zhao Yingjun’s spirit essence to retrieve his memories—then we’ll know who the killer is?” The importance of a Night Wandering Deity capable of manipulating spirits became immediately evident. Fu Qingyang shook her head and said: “Yesterday, Taiyi Gate convened all official Night Wandering Deities in Beijing for a meeting—Yuan Ting was not present at Songhai.” Her expression remained entirely composed throughout, as if even a collapse of the sky wouldn’t have disturbed her. A meeting in Beijing? The captains felt a wave of concern—the officials from other districts would also be absent now. Isn’t that too coincidental? The murderer waited so long—only acting at this precise moment when all Night Wandering Deities were gathered together in Beijing. Da Ji Ba angrily said: “What’s going on with Taiyi Gate? Why didn’t they convene earlier? We should have trained our own Night Wandering Deities years ago!” Li Dongze sighed and replied: “The cause-effect relationship has been reversed—it was the murderer who chose this timing. After all, it doesn’t matter—everyone need not be concerned. We have our own Night Wandering Deities.”