Zhang Yuanqing once again recalled the backgrounds of two colleagues in his mind: one was a third-level Fire Master, a direct descendant of an upper-ranking family within the Chì Huǒ Clan; the other was a fourth-level Sage-rank Water Spirit. Though the latter lacked noble lineage, achieving Sage rank—once accumulated—would surely secure a position as a Council Member. A Sage rank—a level where defeating transcendent beings felt like slaughtering dogs. He hoped these weren’t two difficult-to-get-along-with colleagues… Zhang Yuanqing moved his legs, settling back into his office chair and returning to his desk. In the official Archive, he searched for “Army Commander.” After carefully reviewing the information, he now had a clearer understanding of the Evil Organization’s structure within its power network. Among the forces formed by the Evil Organization, there is a well-known saying: “Three Associations, Two Monasteries, One Warlord.” The "Three Associations" refer to the three major divisions of the Spirit Energy Association composed of Wu Gu Masters—specifically, the Central Division, Eastern Division, and Southern Division. Each division holds its own territory with limited interaction among them; notably, the leadership position in the Eastern Division has remained vacant for a long time, with the two Vice Presidents—the Ghost Judge and the Wu Gu Sovereign—competing for it over many years. The "Two Monasteries" refer to the Two Schools of Illusionists, organized geographically into the Southern School and the Northern School. And “One Warlord” refers to the Army Commander’s Order, composed of Enchantment Demons—the head of this order is named Xiu Luo. “Guan Ya, sister—why isn’t it one Army Commander, but rather one Warlord?” Zhang Yuanqing expressed his puzzlement. Guan Ya turned gracefully around: “Are you looking into the Evil Organization’s influence?” Zhang Yuanqing replied: “Black Unusual is part of the Eastern Division of the Spirit Energy Association. I participated in a pursuit operation and wanted to leverage that opportunity to investigate further.” Guan Ya nodded, then her expression softened as she recalled memories: “Xiu Luo… my mother used to scare me with Xiu Luo when I was young, and even when she was younger, my grandmother often did the same.” Wow—Xiu Luo is your family’s generation-long way of intimidating children? Zhang Yuanqing made a passing remark. “He is an unparalleled presence among Spirit Realm Walkers—an utterly formidable figure, like the mythical demigod destined to bring about the end of the world. He is both terrifying and invincible, yet profoundly distant—this remains my impression.” Guan Ya said. “How do five Allied Leaders compare in that regard?” Zhang Yuanqing asked curiously. Guan Ya thought for a moment, then shook her head: “I can’t quite quantify that level of combat power. But in terms of reputation, the five leaders far fall short of Xiu Luo. From the saying ‘Three Associations, Two Monasteries, One Warlord,’ I deduce that these five leaders are not on par with him—this is merely my personal opinion.” Standing by, Wang Tai interjected: “If we have video records of their individual combat performances, I could analyze data to determine which—Leader or Xiu Luo—is stronger.” “How can such high-level combat videos possibly be found?” Zhang Yuanqing shrugged. “Wang Tai, perhaps you can at least tell me—between me and Guan Ya sister, who would win in a physical confrontation?” Wang Tai replied seriously: “In the absence of any props, neither of you could stand a chance against her.” Guan Ya shook her head—it truly was an uninteresting man. At this moment, you should have said: “After all, who wouldn’t know? There are only tired oxen and never ruined fields.” But Yuan Shi—how thoughtful! … By midday, Zhang Yuanqing heard cheerful laughter coming from the first floor: “Ahahahaha—do you remember me? Hello everyone! I’m going to be around a lot more now. If you need anything, just reach out—I’ve got your backs!” Though bold and spirited in tone, the voice was fresh and childlike; simply hearing it, Zhang Yuanqing imagined a young girl standing with arms crossed, laughing confidently. Seconds later, footsteps echoed down the steel staircase. Zhang Yuanqing peered out to see first a young woman—short, about junior high school age—with refined facial features still in development, possessing a flowing fiery red ponytail. She held her waist, marching with an unrelenting stride, stepping briskly upward one after another. Behind her came a middle-aged man wearing a white shirt and casual pants, glasses that looked slightly out of place, his hair disheveled—visually reminiscent of Wang Tai’s “darkened” version. Wang Tai, is this your brother? Zhang Yuanqing couldn’t help turning to check on Wang Tai’s position. Wang Tai remained focused at his desk, indifferent to the surrounding activity. Guan Ya smiled warmly and rose to welcome the returning colleagues. “Hi there, Guan Ya sister! I’m back again!” The red-haired girl raised her hand, greeting with energy, her eyes fixed on Zhang Yuanqing as she exclaimed: “He’s the new colleague, isn’t he—the one who single-handedly stormed into enemy camp and battled the Xiaohou Family's subordinates for three days straight?” Wait—when did I fight the Xiaohou family’s subordinates for three days? Zhang Yuanqing was momentarily stunned. Guan Ya unfolded her palms and introduced to the girl: “Jiang Jingwei, third-level Fire Master, 14 years old, still in junior high school—you should be studying, right?” “I’m not—it’s my father who thinks reading is wasted time. School teaches things that don’t make sense at all.” Jiang Jingwei stepped forward, lifting her toes to vigorously pat Zhang Yuanqing on the shoulder, then laughed loudly: “Ahahaha—indeed a distinguished young man! I’ll be sure to count you as one of my crew. I love young people with a sense of justice!” The gentle tap on Zhang Yuanqing’s shoulder felt more like a strong blow from Lu Zhishen—the towering figure from the classic novel—and within seconds, he imagined himself bowing and shouting: “Brother!” A girl's form, Lu Zhishen’s spirit? At this moment, Jiang Jingwei turned to Wang Tai, startled: “Wait—aren’t you new?” Wang Tai replied: “No—I’ve met you before.” Jiang Jingwei was even more astonished: “Impossible—why don't I have any memory of you?” Wang Tai remained speechless. Zhang Yuanqing watched the scene, unsure whether to comment on Wang Tai’s extraordinary perception or Jiang Jingwei’s unusually relaxed demeanor. Guan Ya continued introducing: “This is the senior Tengyuan—the fourth-level Water Spirit, currently acting as Chief.” Zhang Yuanqing turned his attention back and politely said: “Chief Tengyuan.” The middle-aged man appeared dazed—his eyes wide and expression slow, a sense of disinterest in daily life evident. He adjusted the glasses on his nose with an empty tone: “Just to correct myself—the first title after a Water Spirit’s initial job transition is now known as the Wenzheng.” He bowed slightly to Zhang Yuanqing: “You’re quite young—full of energy and dedication, which I greatly appreciate. But please remember, this is only a job. Your life must remain your top priority. Sacrificing it for work—is truly tragic.” Wait—that was far from the enthusiastic vision of inspirational speeches Zhang Yuanqing had imagined. Tengyuan continued: “I’ve drafted new regulations overnight and will enforce them during my interim tenure as Chief. Any staff member who violates these rules shall be strictly disciplined.” Upon hearing this, Zhang Yuanqing felt a surge of energy—he recognized it immediately as the classic “new official’s fire”—a fresh leader establishing expectations early on. Tengyuan adjusted his glasses again, with a passive demeanor and hollow tone: “Rule One: No overtime work required! Rule Two: Allow paid vacation leave. Rule Three: Eliminate mandatory check-in procedures. Rule Four: Leave requests do not require my approval. Rule Five: If forced to work beyond schedule, the overtime pay shall be tripled. Rule Six: Weekly holidays are now extended to three days per week. Rule Seven…” Zhang Yuanqing’s mouth opened slightly—his expression stunned, his mind buzzing with chaotic thoughts: Is this really a leader? Is there such a leader in existence? Shouldn’t the true Chief be permanently transferred? … As dusk settled, the blue car entered the underground parking garage of a hotel. The Black Market operates on the third level below the hotel—beyond that, the Champion also hosts underground boxing matches. Guan Ya parked and opened the door: “We’ve arrived.” She wore a long coat to cover her graceful figure, replacing her high heels with running shoes. Her explanation was simple—the Spirit Realm Walkers active in the Black Market are all officially registered, yet the wild ones remain free-spirited and unruly, lacking strict discipline. As someone so physically attractive—so statuesque and elegant—she was certain to attract attention from overly admiring individuals who would only create complications. Thus, she needed a coat. Zhang Yuanqing found her as self-important as her younger brother—merely observing the rounded peach-like figure, firm posture, and delicate features made him endure her constant boasts. Under Guan Ya’s guidance, they reached a cargo elevator. At the entrance stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with sharp eyes, examining them closely. Guan Ya pulled out a stack of cash from her coat pocket—this was the “entry fee” for the Black Market—one thousand yuan per person. The man received it and pressed the down-button. The elevator doors opened; Guan Ya led Zhang Yuanqing inside. As the elevator descended, both wore masks and baseball caps. A chime sounded—the doors opened, flooding them with a mix of sweat, smoke, and noise—a thick, bustling atmosphere rushed in. Zhang Yuanqing looked around: the space beyond was spacious—this Black Market had been repurposed from an underground parking facility, divided into two distinct zones. To the left stood a massive arena where two well-built men in bare chests fought vigorously—one striking hard, the other defending with strength—audiences cheered enthusiastically. Surrounding it were various stalls selling beverages and snacks. On the right side, however, the ambiance was calmer—several neatly arranged stands scattered throughout; few visitors moved about, wandering casually. At one such stall, Zhang Yuanqing spotted a familiar face—the head of the group, Bai Long, leading two younger brothers as they strolled between vendors. “Bai Long used to be an undefeated champion on the arena.” Guan Ya also noticed her and smiled: “She enjoys buying supplies then participating in several matches afterward—this way, she can recover the cost of her purchases. Spirit Realm Walkers are limited by their moral values when it comes to spending money—earning isn’t difficult, but becoming truly wealthy is a challenge. Materials and props within the Spirit Realm are always priced at premium levels.” Premium? Zhang Yuanqing began to worry about his own financial situation now. They walked directly toward the right area—the merchandise here was diverse yet disorganized—centered mainly on materials, information, and guides—with few actual props available, even when present, they often served only modest functions. Zhang Yuanqing paused at a stand, pointing to a bottle containing a “deep green paste”: “What is this?” He sensed strong yin energy within the paste. The vendor replied: “It’s the bodily fluid of zombies.” “How much?” “Fifty thousand yuan.” Wow—so expensive? Zhang Yuanqing was astonished. Then he pointed to a crimson crystal: “And what about this one?” “It's a burst stone produced in Fire Master's instances—a consumable item,” the vendor said. “And how much is that?” The vendor glanced at him: “Two nips.” You’re just plain rude! Zhang Yuanqing sighed—“…” He scanned through various materials on display, pondered for several seconds, then silently summoned his little person. Only the Spirit Servant knows which material fits best.