The video mentioned by this woman should be sufficient as evidence. The next objective is simple: capture Wu, find the video or that register... After all, Wu, an ordinary man, has only threatened officials with videos—he dares to threaten Realm Walkers? Perhaps it’s merely a recording of regular aristocrats, without including any Realm Walkers. Then, to accuse Guichu An, the women in the building would serve as living witnesses. This Wu is truly unconstrained—treating people like slaves and animals, seizing benefits, colluding with officials, even burning down buildings and committing crimes... Even with ample psychological preparation, after hearing Cao Jing’s account, Zhang Yuanqing still felt a surge of rage and determination welling up inside him. He only wanted to humanize the beasts in the building. His next target was already chosen: Security Officer Lai Wan. In Cao Jing's narrative, Lai Wan is one of Wu’s close confidants, responsible for maintaining security at the Tongqiao Tower. All the women there fear him because they’ve all endured his beatings. For someone like Cao Jing, who initially resisted fiercely, Wu arranged for Lai Wan to sexually assault and train her—making her a dead loss in terms of moral value. “I have 138 points of morality—the ability to kill eight people. I've accumulated these points over two months. Now that I’ve saved them, when will I use them?” Zhang Yuanqing stepped out of the body of this middle-aged man, wrapped in a Liu Ruan blade, and left the room. ... On the first floor, in the security office. Security Officer Lai Wan was lounging comfortably in his chair, with several jars of preserved snacks before him and a box of canned beer at his feet. Lai Wan had followed Wu on the streets since he was young—excelling at fights and brawls, capable of cutting down people with a watermelon knife without blinking. In the early part of this century, while fighting for territory and women under Wu’s direction, Lai Wan killed two others. Wu invested significant effort to resolve these incidents—not only did he not blame him but actually became even more appreciative of Lai Wan's contributions. After Wu began to achieve a certain level of public recognition, Lai Wan was assigned as the head security officer at the Tongqiao Tower. Among that original group of veteran colleagues, most were now stationed here. Lai Wan was satisfied with his current situation—well-paid, stress-free work, enjoying regular conversations with old friends and colleagues, spending time on romantic pursuits, and living a life full of joy. Indeed, among the women at the Tongqiao Tower, aside from a few standout stars, Lai Wan could freely choose others to entertain. These women were Wu’s cultivated “slaves”—when they first arrived, none were cooperative. Wu simply applied consistent methods: beatings, sexual assaults, and prolonged torment—until they became compliant. And it was Lai Wan who carried out these actions. “Pfft… Pfft…” Lai Wan expelled chicken bone fragments from his mouth, complaining, “Wu is growing older—the more minor issues, the more he reacts with alarm.” Lai Wan’s partner tonight had no guests scheduled—originally planned to spend the night at her place—but Wu suddenly gathered all security personnel in the afternoon and requested an increase in patrol shifts. The number of staff rose from six to twelve, working in pairs on a 24-hour rotating schedule. As the team leader, Lai Wan now had to stay up late and work overtime. At that moment, a robust man in a security uniform walked into the room. Lai Wan glanced at him briefly before continuing his drink and said: “Old Yang—here’s something I’d like you to take care of for me. Stay with me for half an hour—no, one full hour—I’ll head up to see Qu Xiu.” He hadn’t seen a woman in several days—drinking some wine had only heightened his desire. Old Yang approached and stopped beside Lai Wan, looking at him coldly. “Hmm?” Lai Wan swallowed the bitter liquid, making a sound in his nasal cavity. The next moment, he saw Old Yang draw a Liu Ruan blade from behind him and swiftly press it against his neck. The alcohol had momentarily numbed his nerves, slowing his reaction—when he finally tensed to resist, thick streams of blood burst out from his carotid artery. Old Yang covered Lai Wan’s mouth with one hand and delivered several more cuts across his chest until the man ceased resistance and collapsed completely. At that same time, Zhang Yuanqing received a notification: ten points deducted from his morality score. He was not surprised—deducting morality upon killing someone is mandatory, regardless of whether the person is good or evil. Yet, doing good deeds should also earn moral rewards. In theory, killing an evil figure like Lai Wan should count as such a deed. But no reward came through. The Spirit Realm would not have such a basic flaw. On broader reflection—he was indeed performing good deeds—but this was only the beginning of that effort. Perhaps after fully resolving this case, he’d see whether moral rewards would eventually be granted. Zhang Yuanqing didn’t hesitate further. Blackness surged in his eyes, awakening the residual spirit within Lai Wan’s body. He opened his mouth and absorbed it into himself. Foreign memories poured into his consciousness like a gentle stream merging into an ocean—causing only subtle ripples. One after another, scenes unfolded—some continuous, others fragmented, flashing rapidly like a slideshow. He saw Lai Wan first kill someone—holding a fruit knife, trembling all over; he saw Lai Wan enter a hair salon and spend fifty yuan to end his youth; he saw Lai Wan wielding a short staff, repeatedly striking women until they screamed and trembled with pain; he saw him leading three junior colleagues, pressing one crying woman onto her bed while the men laughed wickedly and expressed their desire for more—declaring, “Not willing to serve? Then I’ll keep bringing people over. You'll get used to it.” He saw Wu—the man who stood about 1.8 meters tall, with a beard and a dot on his right cheek—giving a serious instruction: “Stay alert these days—someone might come to complain.” “Complain? Who dares?” “That’s something you don’t need to worry about.” The scene then switched. Zhang Yuanqing saw Wu politely welcoming three important guests into the casino. The security officer was present as a host, and their conversation went: “These past few days have been quite troublesome—every expense incurred at the casino counts toward Mr. Wu’s account. The ladies on this floor are all available—he’ll arrange for any one of them to join you.” “Rest assured—if anyone shows insolence, we'll handle it personally. We’re all here working under Guichu An—no need to worry about formality.” Zhang Yuanqing stepped out of his spiritual state, took a deep breath, and suppressed the rising fury. From the final memory fragments, he extracted a crucial point: “Working for Guichu An?” This statement carried two implications: they were dispatched by Guichu An to protect Wu; Wu’s real power base was Guichu An. “Therefore, Guichu An has been able to maintain the Tongqiao Tower in the shadow of the Orderly Realm for so many years—using Wu as a means to collect wealth and fulfill his peculiar personal preferences…” Thus, when he learned that Kou Yusi had fled, it was Guichu An who took action. Zhang Yuanqing’s forehead grew more prominent with veins visibly standing out. An orderly profession does not necessarily imply kindness—he understood this long ago—but the anger remained uncontainable. “Guichu An indeed shows vigilance—sending Realm Walkers to protect Wu. Three Realm Walkers have been assigned, though their exact levels are unknown—they likely all reside at the Elevated Realm level, making it unlikely that a Sage-level figure would be summoned. Guichu An has faced off against Kou Beiyue and knows his capabilities. Among these three, there should be either two at Level 3 or one at Level 3—while among the other two, one must possess a powerful prop to effectively counter an assault from a Level 3 Enchantment Demon.” With my combined strength and that of Kou Beiyue, we should be sufficient to handle them—we need not request support from Guanyi Ya or Chief Shi. However, for added safety, it’s still necessary to notify them to arrive—just in case something unforeseen happens… Zhang Yuanqing allowed his spirit body to rise out of the security officer's form and let him fall unconscious. He then swiftly floated through the Tongqiao Tower back to where he had his physical body. Under the green plants, Zhang Yuanqing opened his eyes. Kou Beiyue, who had been watching over him, noticed immediately and turned toward him upon seeing him awaken, asking: “What’s going on inside? Can we act now? Have you seen Wu?” “Yes—we can act!” Zhang Yuanqing stood up, quietly retrieved the “little comic” (small character), and said, “Right now—let’s move.” Kou Beiyue responded with excitement, licking his lips. ... On the second floor of the small building—the bright lights illuminated the hall. This two-story structure is Wu’s casino—the walls have been fully expanded except for load-bearing columns, creating a spacious area that can accommodate up to two hundred people. The grand hall features various gaming machines—most of which ordinary patrons haven’t seen before—alongside familiar tables such as Mahjong and poker. Guests are scattered throughout the room, playing games at various stations—some using gaming consoles, others playing cards or engaging in Texas Hold’em—while the game dealers, elegant and dynamic, serve with grace. Women dressed in semi-nude attire accompany their guests, delivering drinks and refreshments. Though young—dressed in rich makeup—many are either indifferent or overly courteous to their customers. Yet, guests often treat them with disrespect—calling upon them, demanding service, and even angrily dragging them off to secluded corners to harass them. At a window-facing table, Wu stood about 1.8 meters tall, holding a cigarette, looking at his cards with disappointment before setting them down. Tonight, he had lost nearly one million yuan—but this was not significant—this game was designed precisely for such outcomes. Wu looked toward the short-haired man on his left and smiled: “Master Dao—your fortune seems especially strong tonight. You’re missing out if you don’t stay up late.” The short-haired man’s full name is Qi Ba Jiao—he's around forty, bald, standing 1.6 meters tall, wearing a white shirt—his broad shoulders contrasting with his compact frame, giving him the appearance of a solid piece of iron. He loves gambling, values wealth, and avoids women—so he now has towering piles of chips, having never lost since he took his seat. Qi Ba Jiao gently touched the light reflecting off his head and grinned: “Then don’t run—I’ll win so much from you that I’ll have to sell your pants.” Wu stroked the dark spot on his cheek, shook his head in regret: “I’ve made a poor decision—this game should not have been scheduled today.” He then turned toward the young man beside the short-haired host, offering a teasing remark: “Brother Qingsong—you've had your fair share of guests. Let them rest their mouths—they’re already feeling sore from sitting too long. How about I swap you for someone else?” The young man glanced at his cards casually—then immediately turned to the woman next to Wu, eyes bright with interest: “I want her.” The woman was in her early twenties—only recently arrived and newly assigned to the Tongqiao Tower—and held her lips tightly as she sat still. Wu glanced at her coldly. The young woman trembled throughout—the fear visible in her eyes—as she quickly stood up, walked over to the young man, knelt down, and slipped beneath the table. On the other side of the table, a woman covered her mouth and hurried toward the restroom. The young man is named Qingsong—he’s passionate about women—often finding it difficult to satisfy even with just two or three. Wu issued him an access card allowing entry into any room on the building. The third man was a young man with yellow hair, dressed in shiny attire—his features elegant and refined; the smoky makeup enhanced his air of gentleness—so much so that one might mistake him for a pop star. His name is Shen Le—he enjoys gambling, drinking, and dining—he only requires Wu to provide money, women, and large meat packages. These three men are security officers dispatched by Guichu An—their strength lies in their exceptional abilities. Wu doesn’t know exactly who Guichu An has encountered—but the fact that such capable individuals have been summoned—especially in numbers—clearly indicates a significant challenge ahead. Therefore, starting yesterday, Wu had set aside all his current responsibilities and retreated to the Tongqiao Tower, waiting for news. Wu does not fear official pressure—the backing of Guichu An and the network of clients cultivated by the building are sufficient to resolve legal matters. What he fears is precisely these powerful adversaries—especially after hearing from Guichu An that his opponent is Kou Yusi’s younger brother. Who is Kou Yusi? Wu had completely forgotten—he recalled only when asking Lai Wan—the woman who was murdered two years ago by Guichu An. She truly suffered—immediately drawn to Guichu An upon arrival, subjected daily to abuse and torment—sometimes even involving multiple security personnel in the process. Now her brother has come to confront him personally. Fortunately, that incident had already been resolved officially—with all records destroyed—and thus, it may not be possible for the opposing party to trace back here. With such abilities—why hadn’t they arrived earlier? “Call the dealers!” Wu instructed the croupiers. Then he turned to Qi Ba Jiao and smiled: “Master Dao—tonight, we’ll stay up all night.” At that moment, Wu saw a Liu Ruan blade—40 centimeters long—appear suddenly behind Qi Ba Jiao’s back, pressing gently against his carotid artery. Wu’s eyes narrowed—he remained motionless, expression instantly solidifying with shock. The sharp blade was about to sever the carotid arteries of the seven blades, when a young man dressed in stage attire—refined and delicate in demeanor—deeply inhaled, drawing in a large volume of oxygen. In an instant, a high-pitched, brilliant dolphin-like tone erupted from his throat. This specially rhythmic dolphin voice resonated throughout the brilliantly gilded hall, delivering a soul-shaking impact. The gamblers in the hall were stunned and clutching their heads in agony, screaming with pain. Wu Yi’s vision blurred; warm liquid poured out of his nasal passages. He watched as the willow blade lost strength, drifting gently to the floor—only to be instantly lifted by an invisible force and vanish into nothingness. The young man paused mid-song, his gaze sharp and scanning the hall thoroughly before he murmured quietly: “He’s gone.” “What? What on earth…?” Wu Yi managed, despite the pounding headache, asking in a firm tone. Shen Le responded calmly: “Master Wu, please find a corner and hide there. Call Ciji to inform him.” He then turned his eyes toward Qingsong and the seven blades, his expression grave: “It’s a Night Wandering Deity—an ethereal embodiment of the Night Wanderer who has detached from her physical form.” The Musician Skill possesses exceptional intuition and can sense the presence of such spiritual beings. Level 3?! Qingsong’s eyebrows arched, and especially the latter, felt a sudden chill rise up his back, dampening with a thin layer of cold sweat. Qingsong suddenly stood upright, fastened his trousers’ zipper, and entered full battle mode. The enemy's spirit assault had failed—temporarily retreating—but it was certain that further action would follow. “Clang!” At this moment, the double wooden doors of the casino were kicked open. Two men in caps and masks burst inside—one of them raised a large-caliber handgun and fired several shots at the ceiling, shouting: “We’re here for the Yellow-Red Purge—everyone not directly involved must evacuate.”