"All done! I've installed the beta version of the UCD app and the full release of the GhostLink app on your device. Try opening GhostLink first and top up your communication credits—there's a guide in the app," Bai Xiaoqiao said cheerfully.
Song Miaozhu took back her shopkeeper credentials and, as instructed, opened the Underworld Web. A chilling mist swept over her screen, revealing two app icons.
She tapped the ghost-in-white icon, launching the GhostLink interface.
There were four main tabs: Chat Window, Ghost Contacts, Profile Info, and Account Recharge.
The chat and contact lists were both empty.
She opened the Profile Info tab first. There, her mission details, GhostLink ID, and nickname were listed. She changed her nickname to "Proprietor Song of Anshou Hall" before moving to the Recharge section.
[Remaining Communication Time: 0 days]
[Recharge: 300 Hell Coins / month]
Miaozhu paused. She was carrying high-value third- and second-grade spirit ingots. It would be more cost-effective to return home and recharge using a first-grade spirit ingot infused with ghost lifespan.
With that, she prepared to leave. The white candle was almost burned out.
"Hey! Add me on GhostLink before you go! My Ghost ID is 4," Bai Xiaoqiao said. "If you run into any bugs with the app, just message me!"
Song Miaozhu nodded and added him as a contact.
After exiting the Underworld Web Office, she used her Heaven-Tier Shopkeeper credential to instantly return to her ghost shop.
Once there, she immediately retrieved a first-grade spirit ingot from beneath the counter, infused it with ghost lifepan and recharged her communication balance.
[Remaining Credit: 0 days → 100 days]
"Wait, this recharge function doesn't give change?" Miaozhu frowned at the now-vanished ingot, worth a full thousand Hell Coins. She had intended to top up just 900 coins for three months. Instead, the app gave her exactly 100 days.
"Fine, 100 days it is," she muttered and took out the list of GhostLink IDs from her preorder clients. One by one, she sent out friend requests.
Then, she logged out of the Underworld.
Back in the living world, the misty Underworld Web screen rippled briefly before flashing: "Signal lost. Unable to connect." The screen dissolved moments later.
"Looks like the Underwold Web hasn't extended into the world of the living." She'd have to check the UCD app tomorrow.
Since she hadn't used the Treasure Bowl to convert Hell Coins into yuan today, there were no updates in her Wealth Vault account.
After purchasing all the reserved items in her shopping cart, Song Miaozhu finally checked her Wealth Vault balance:
[Wealth Vault Balance: ¥1,022,633]
This time, she'd truly crossed the one-million mark. Pure profit, too—no down payments included. On top of that, she still had 327,841 Hell Coins' worth of ghost lifespan stored, not yet converted. She knew now: from this point on, money would never be a problem. She decided to use a portion of her wealth to renovate the old family house.
The next day, she contacted a renovation company online. She figured it was better to hand the project over to professionals—she only needed to communicate her requirements. Any extra expenses she'd easily earn back, and the time saved would let her fold more spirit ingots.
Miaozhu had come to realize that even the most prestigious departments in the underworld couldn't avoid relying on money molds to spend ghost lifespan. Even the GhostLink communication recharge only accepted Hell Coins—not ghost lifespan. And every transaction risked damaging the coin mold, making it a costly consumable that required a sustainable income stream.
The empty molds her great-grandmother left behind were limited. Sell one, lose one. If she didn't improve her skills soon, she might not even be able to convert stored ghost lifespan back into usable funds.
After printing the preorder item data, she sat outside her shop and began folding gold paper into spirit ingots.
Luck seemed to be on her side—her first fold produced a first-grade ingot. Delighted, she placed it into the small bamboo basket beside her and picked up another gold sheet.
Seconds later, she noticed something unusual—the glow of this ingot looked slightly different.
"Another first-grade?" she murmured in surprise.
What's going on today? Did she suddenly level up?
She kept folding.
First-grade.
First-grade.
Unranked.
First-grade.
First-grade.
Second-grade?!
Staring at her first second-grade ingot of the day, Miaozhu grew suspicious. Just yesterday, she had to fold an entire bamboo basket of unranked ingots just to produce a few graded ones—and none were second-grade!
This was too big of a leap. It didn't feel real.
She examined the new ingots carefully. They were legitimate, no doubt about it.
Curious, she slowed her folding and paid close attention to the process.
Then she saw it—something faint, like a nearly invisible white dot. It drifted toward her ingot and merged into it before vanishing.
Another first-grade.
If this had been any other day, folding while distracted like this would've guaranteed an unranked result. She tried again, watching closely. The white dot appeared again. It wasn't dust. It wasn't her imagination.
Just as it was about to merge with the ingot, Miaozhu froze her hands.
The white dot lingered mid-air, aimless, then dissipated like mist.
She continued folding that ingot, but this time, no white dot entered.
Sure enough—it came out unranked.
So that was it. The increase in quality wasn't due to her skill—it was because of that white dot.
Now that she had a lead, Miaozhu began experimenting. She tried to catch it with her fingers. It dodged her easily. Again and again she tried. Once, she managed to touch it briefly—but it instantly bounced away, disappearing entirely.
Its disgust was almost palpable. Even as just a tiny dot of light, it had attitude.
She even tried trapping it in a bottle. No luck—it could vanish at will, even when she activated her spiritual sight. After one final failed attempt, Miaozhu gave up.
Still, it hadn't been fruitless. She discovered that the white dot was more visible when she folded in the attic with the lights off.
In the dark, she realized: it wasn't just a white dot—it shimmered faintly with color, like a tiny particle of light.
"It's like… some kind of energy particle? Similar to Yin Qi? No, Yin Qi is gray and carries a scent of death and decay. This is completely different—radiating vitality, full of life!"
Suddenly, a thought struck her like lightning.
"Could it be… spiritual energy? Has spiritual energy started to return to the world?"