"Master, when did you first realize you could see ghosts?" Zhao Huoyan pulled out a registration form.
Song Miaozhu: "..."
Great. An interrogation.
But she could probably get away with a vague answer.
"Around Qingming Festival," she said, offering a deliberately ambiguous yet plausible timeframe.
Zhao Mumu subtly straightened in her seat.
Old Master Zhao took a sip of tea.
"Ah, hiding her inherited ghost-seeing ability. Smart move." They understood perfectly.
Zhao Huoyan glanced at the master-disciple pair, noted the answer, and continued: "When did you first notice spiritual energy?"
"About half a month ago?" Song Miaozhu feigned uncertainty. "I didn't make a point to remember."
He recorded her response. "How does spiritual energy appear to you?"
"Floating, milky-white light points with a faint iridescent glow."
"What method do you use to absorb it? And what physical changes have you observed during the process?"
…
One question after another, just like a background check. Song Miaozhu answered everything she could. For anything involving the Ghost Shop, she gave vague responses to dodge the details.
But from the nature of the questions, she could glean a bit about the current status of the official investigation.
There was no mention of a spiritual energy resurgence, which was odd enough. But not a single question about the space between the brows, the red square crystal, or the crimson spiritual power—that was downright suspicious.
Older artisans might need more time for spiritual energy to refine their bodies, but surely the entire nation hadn't failed to produce even one skilled young craftsperson with strong physical conditioning?
"Are they withholding core intel?"
Well, fair enough. She wasn't joining them, after all. It made sense they'd keep some advantages internal.
When Zhao Huoyan finally handed her the "Spiritual Energy Investigation Report," it confirmed her suspicions—detailed, but far behind where she'd expected.
The report compiled data on individuals confirmed or suspected to have interacted with spiritual energy. It listed:
—When they first saw ghosts.
—Their primary craft.
—Their absorption methods.
—Their current stage of development.
—Physical changes observed.
Compared to the form Zhao Huoyan had filled out for her, the only difference was the omission of personal details.
The first entry described someone who could see drifting spiritual energy points and auras within objects.
A note read: "Can detect spiritual energy traces in certain objects, likely remnants of prior energy infusion."
The timestamp? Three days ago. So the data was recent.
But as she flipped through the rest, none of the other cases matched the first.
At best, it confirmed her earlier theories about spiritual refinement and expanded the list of crafts that could attract energy. But nothing groundbreaking.
"Is there really not a single highly skilled, physically fit young artisan in the entire national Spirit Investigation Unit?" Song Miaozhu pressed. "You found me quickly enough—surely you have members further along?"
"We do," Zhao Huoyan admitted. "But those files are classified. Only internal personnel can access them."
Her frown deepened. "This information is outdated for me. If this is all you're offering, then the other things I know—like the cause of spiritual energy's emergence—aren't worth sharing either."
"You know the cause?" His eyes sharpened.
She nodded. "Not just the cause, but its likely patterns moving forward. If you want that intel, this report isn't nearly enough."
She was here for a two-way exchange, not to be their free intelligence source.
Zhao Huoyan's demeanor turned grave. "I'll need to consult my superiors."
"Go ahead."
The moment he left, Zhao Mumu leaned in. "I asked around. The capital's unit already has people who've cultivated spiritual power. They're top-secret, under heavy protection."
Song Miaozhu had guessed as much. If she—someone who'd only dabbled in paper offerings as a child—had developed spiritual power, surely lifelong artisans wouldn't lag this far behind?
But—"Sister Mumu, aren't you planning to join the unit? Won't sharing this cause trouble?"
"I'm not officially in yet!" Zhao Mumu said breezily. "Besides, everything I know came from you. Joining doesn't mean I'll spill your secrets."
"Master Zhao, you're joining too?" Song Miaozhu turned to the old man, surprised.
He gave a sheepish nod. "At my age, contributing to the country feels right. And they've promised to take care of my retirement!"
Zhao Mumu snorted. "Yesterday, you said you'd missed your chance to enlist as a youth and took up woodcarving instead. Now you're treating this like finally serving your country—you even celebrated with a drink!"
The old man's face darkened. "Nonsense! I yielded my conscription spot to someone more physically fit!"
"Sure, sure. Very noble of you."
Song Miaozhu: "..."
So this "three against one" wasn't what she'd thought.
She was the "one." The other three were already SEIU affiliates.
But she understood. Unlike her—backed by the Ghost Shop—they had to rely on the unit's resources for cultivation.
Twenty minutes later, Zhao Huoyan returned.
"Approved. If your intel proves valuable, you'll be granted external associate status with our Lingcheng branch. You'll receive select internal updates but won't be bound by orders or entitled to benefits.
"In return, you must:
—Keep shared information confidential.
—Refrain from using it to harm society or others.
—Report any future spiritual energy findings to the unit."
"Deal." She agreed instantly.
A no-strings-attached arrangement was exactly what she wanted.
With Zhao Mumu and Old Master Zhao as her inside contacts, she trusted Zhao Huoyan's terms.
"Then let's discuss what I know."
"One moment." He raised a hand. "Would you mind if I connected a video call with the capital's experts? They'll assess your intel in real-time."