With this statement, the oppressive atmosphere in the lobby dissolved entirely. Zhang Yuanqing and Xie Lingxi took a deep breath, the sense of being gazed upon by starving wolves now gone. The woman at the front desk narrowed her eyes, observing the young couple across the desk, then glanced subtly toward the hotel’s exterior. “I know,” she said, returning her gaze with a quiet tone. “Please wait just a moment.” She turned away and walked deeper into the hotel, her high-heeled shoes echoing more and more faintly behind her. Ah... Xie Lingxi exhaled, her cheeks pale, murmuring softly: “Brother Yuanshi, I suddenly remembered something…” Zhang Yuanqing glanced at her. Xie Lingxi expressed her hunch: “We haven’t found any documentation on the Master of Unseen Traces. Is it possible that he isn’t simply unknown—perhaps our access permissions are too limited?” A single receptionist could exert such overwhelming authority. What must be the rank of this Master of Unseen Traces? Zhang Yuanqing nodded seriously, his tone grave: “I’ve thought of this myself. That’s why I was planning to flee just now—and I’m quite confident that I can make it.” “Oh?” Xie Lingxi stared in surprise, her eyes wide open. “I was completely on the verge of collapsing; my legs were weak. I only wanted to hide my head in your armfold.” So I have confidence because I simply need to outrun my teammates… Zhang Yuanqing thought with quiet resentment. He extended his arms and tucked Xie Lingxi’s head beneath his elbow, asking: “Does this give you a sense of security?” “Brother Yuanshi! Let me go—please let me go—it feels very embarrassing!” Xie Lingxi struggled vigorously. She pulled her head out from under Zhang Yuanqing’s arm, adjusted the head-mounted earphones, and lowered her voice: “Brother Yuanshi, my earphones are a Prop. They allow me to monitor all sounds within a 500-meter radius.” She listened intently, then whispered softly: “That woman entered the elevator… it stopped on the fourth floor… she opened the second room door on the left side… and she’s gone?!” Xie Lingxi lifted her face in astonishment. “She vanished!” Vanished? Did that room isolate the outside view? Zhang Yuanqing patted the young girl gently on the shoulder, signaling for calm. The two of them waited silently, with Xie Lingxi frequently glancing out toward the hotel’s exterior to confirm that her family’s security guards remained attentive—only then did she feel a sense of reassurance. After roughly ten minutes, she leaned slightly and murmured: “She has emerged…” A few more minutes passed. Then Zhang Yuanqing heard the elevator chime—its cabin returning to the ground floor—and soon after, the sound of high-heeled footsteps grew again. A graceful elderly woman appeared at the front desk, gazing at them with a calm expression. “Follow me,” she said. She glanced coldly over the group of earnest young people, then exhaled softly: “If you’re afraid, you may return home.” Zhang Yuanqing smiled warmly. “You’re kind and gentle—clearly a good person. We aren’t afraid.” Xie Lingxi spoke gently: “Madam, we merely came to deliver a message. There’s no ill will.” Her expression softened, she nodded slightly, and led them up the elevator to the fourth floor. Standing in the hallway, she pointed toward the second room on the left side of the elevator, saying: “Enter.” Zhang Yuanqing saw the door number: 404! What a lovely name… He chuckled quietly, then pulled Xie Lingxi beside him and turned the doorknob. “Click!” As the locking tongue gently released, a profound and quiet force enveloped them—the scene around them instantly transformed. The carpet in the hallway became simple porcelain; the white-painted walls now appeared as a blend of brick and wood. The bright overhead lights softened into warm candlelight. Zhang Yuanqing and Xie Lingxi stared at each other, stunned—just moments before they had been standing in the hotel’s lobby, now they found themselves within a temple hall. Above them stretched an arched ceiling adorned with intricate floral patterns, painted with countless deities. Directly beneath was a five-meter-tall golden Buddha, hands clasped in gentle gesture, eyes serene yet bearing both compassion and authority. A table of offerings had been lit with eighteen sturdy candles—bright and warm. On the floor lay cushions where a tall Buddhist monk in a light green robe sat cross-legged, his form towering nearly as high as Xie Lingxi herself. Zhang Yuanqing and Xie Lingxi exchanged glances—eyes filled with both shock and gravity. Just seconds before they had been in the hotel corridor; now they were suddenly within an unfamiliar temple. Were it not for the absence of any Instance prompt sounds, both would have doubted they’d just entered a Spirit Realm task. How truly formidable this Master of Unseen Traces must be—what kind of Realm Walker could command such abilities? Zhang Yuanqing took a deep breath, gazing at the figure in the green robe, and spoke respectfully: “Master, may I ask—one more thing?” “Are you the Night Wandering Deity and the Musician Skill—the official representatives from the organization?” A low, raspy voice answered—strange, as though struggling against some inner pain. “Yes!” Zhang Yuanqing could not conceal his excitement. The silence within the hall stretched for nearly fifteen seconds before the low, raspy voice returned: “I regret to say what my father told me when he passed.” Zhang Yuanqing’s tone softened. “He asked me to deliver this message to you—my deepest apology: I still don’t know whether it is my fault… or the world’s.” As he spoke, he recalled once more his father’s final gaze—a look shimmering with both contempt and sorrow. There was a long silence again—one so profound that even Zhang Yuanqing and Xie Lingxi began to feel uneasy. Finally—Master of Unseen Traces sighed gently: “I understand now.” Xie Lingxi hesitated, then bravely whispered: “Master, he saved my life. He is no villain. Then why has he become part of the Evil Organization?” The monk in the green robe responded slowly: “My father once had a daughter—very intelligent and well-behaved. From childhood through university, she consistently achieved excellent academic results. During her college years, however, she began to shift—focused increasingly on material things, comparing herself blindly with classmates. To support his daughter, he worked tirelessly from dawn till dusk, striving to earn more money—but found himself increasingly unable to meet her growing expectations. Eventually, one day, he discovered that his daughter had borrowed substantial amounts of money online and had been photographed in compromising situations. “Unable to repay the debts, he felt deeply humiliated—his daughter now a source of shame for the family. The two clashed fiercely. He declared he would sever ties with her—believing all the blame lay squarely on her: that she had become materialistic, self-centered, and unrecognizable. “Later, the lending company took full control of his daughter’s life, compelling her to work in low-status service roles, treating her callously, exploiting her, and humiliating her. In despair, she leapt from a window and died by suicide. “My father broke down completely—realizing that it was not his daughter who had changed, but himself. If only he could have provided her with better material comfort—if only he had been financially able to support her debt obligations, the tragedy would never have unfolded. He repeatedly regretted their argument at that time; if only he had comforted and accompanied her, perhaps none of this would have happened—his hands had, in truth, pushed his daughter into the abyss. “After her death, he intended to file a legal case against the lending company—the individuals who had wronged and ultimately killed his daughter—but due to the company’s strong local influence, he lost. “He remained deeply depressed—realizing that it was not the daughter at fault, but himself, and the world around him. He believed people are powerless in the face of environment; when society constantly shouts about materialism and wealth, you can’t help but become influenced—to become materialistic, to be consumed by the pursuit of money. No one escapes this. “His daughter had not yet entered professional life—she was unaware of the harshness of human nature, and had simply been guided into consumption patterns and loan cycles until she reached her breaking point. The world is utterly flawed—he decided to seek personal justice for his daughter himself. “He entered the lending company, killed those who had wronged and murdered his daughter, then fled the scene—this very act of violence granted him a Character Card, transforming him into an Enchantment Demon.” “My father was somewhat rigid—but not a bloodthirsty villain. Once he became part of the Evil Organization, however, there was no turning back. He continued to grow stronger in rank and level, yet grew more and more burdened with inner suffering. “He encountered me at some point—then began following my path, seeking ways to calm his internal anger and achieve redemption. But how rigidly he remained! He refused to harm the innocent, yet persisted in refusing to reconcile himself with this world. “Perhaps death is the most peaceful destination for him…” It makes perfect sense why he saved Xie Lingxi—his daughter was of a similar age to her. He had repeatedly regretted not reaching out to pull her in time at that critical moment—the act of leaping forward, saving Xie Lingxi, was actually saving his own daughter who had jumped to her death. Zhang Yuanqing glanced at the young green tea lady—Xie Lingxi stood motionless, eyes glistening with tears. He sighed quietly and said: “Master, I believe he has achieved redemption.” The Master of Unseen Traces remained silent, offering no immediate response. He gently waved his sleeve, and two slender beams of light emerged from within it, landing beside Xie Lingxi and Zhang Yuanqing. They looked down—two stones black as ink, each about the size of a palm. Within them, dark glowing patterns surged and transformed—like dreams unfolding in motion. Within just seconds, both Xie Lingxi and Zhang Yuanqing felt their vision dim, growing dizzy. “Thank you for bringing his final message,” said the Master of Unseen Traces calmly. “It is called the ‘Dream-Connecting Jade Symbol.’ If you press it to the ground and break it, you can reach me—should any danger arise, I will come to your aid once. This function works only within the real world—within the Spirit Realm, it is ineffective.” “Now go,” he said. The Buddha image and the candlelight began to twist and disintegrate—the temple faded, then dissolved completely. Zhang Yuanqing and Xie Lingxi found themselves back in the hotel, standing at the open doorway of their room—a standard single-bedroom suite. Lying quietly on either side of them were two dark jade stones.