His Sanity instantly plummeted to zero.
A chill shot up his spine, piercing through the crown of his head. Zhang Yuanqing leaped into the air like a startled cat, a string of curses bursting from his lips:
"Fuck your mother!"
It was the primal, involuntary reaction to overwhelming shock or terror.
He finally understood why his shoulder had been so sore, and why the corpse by the window carried a copper mirror.
It was to check for a Vengeful Spirit clinging to his shoulder.
When did it latch onto me? When I entered the courtyard, or when I stepped into this room?
Who gave me the courage to explore? Liang Jingru?!
His mind exploded with thoughts, panic surging through him like a tidal wave.
Though he knew this temple harbored terrifying supernatural entities and had mentally prepared himself, confronting a real ghost still triggered an indescribable terror.
Wait, I have a Talisman! Zhang Yuanqing's trembling hands fished out the Yellow Paper Talisman from his jacket pocket, slapping it onto his shoulder in a desperate attempt.
Slap!
The Corpse Suppressing Talisman landed on his shoulder. He raised the copper mirror, cautiously peering into it. The man with the deathly pale face, black lips, and lifeless white eyes remained clinging to his shoulder.
It was useless. This thing wasn't considered a corpse-type Yin creature, and his last sliver of hope vanished. Zhang Yuanqing felt his shoulder growing increasingly sore, and his hands and feet turned icy.
These weren't illusions; they were tangible signs of his yang energy draining away.
In that moment, Zhang Yuanqing recalled the corpse beneath the table in the Main Hall and the senior cultivator who had died tragically beneath the window. He realized he might soon share their fate, perishing in this very place.
A bone-chilling dread washed over him.
Tap... tap...
Suddenly, at this critical moment, faint footsteps echoed from the corridor outside.
The footsteps were light, but in the dead of night, they were strikingly clear.
Zhang Yuanqing tensed, quickly crouching down beside the corpse beneath the window.
The footsteps sounded familiar, much like the ones he had heard when he first entered the temple.
Tap... tap... tap...
The footsteps grew closer, approaching his location. Zhang Yuanqing held his breath, his entire body rigid, faintly hearing his own frantic heartbeat.
As the footsteps passed outside the window, Zhang Yuanqing couldn't resist glancing at the floor. Moonlight streamed in, casting a latticed window shadow across the floor.
The window was low, only reaching waist-high. Under normal circumstances, anyone passing by outside would cast a shadow on the ground, but Zhang Yuanqing saw nothing.
This meant whatever had passed by outside had no body.
Fortunately, the footsteps passed the window without stopping or entering the room, gradually fading into the distance.
Phew. Zhang Yuanqing silently exhaled in relief, straining his ears to track the receding footsteps. He heard them enter the courtyard, making a rustling sound as they trampled through the overgrown weeds.
Then they stopped. After a few seconds, the footsteps resumed.
This time, the footsteps weren't simple walking; they were rhythmic, deliberate steps.
What's it doing in the courtyard?
Zhang Yuanqing braced his icy body against the wall and struggled to his feet. Peering through the tattered window paper, he strained his eyes to see outside.
In the moonlight, amidst the overgrown weeds, a pair of brand-new, Western-style red dancing shoes were tap-dancing in the night.
Moonlit night, desolate temple, red dancing shoes, solitary dance.
The scene was both absurdly eerie and permeated with an indescribable... loneliness?
How could a pair of Western-style dancing shoes be in a Ming Dynasty Mountain God Temple?
This dilapidated temple was becoming increasingly bizarre. Zhang Yuanqing quietly crouched back down, patiently waiting.
Time ticked by, each second draining more yang energy from him as the Vengeful Spirit clung to his shoulder. The stiffness in his body intensified, the ache in his shoulder sharpening into a piercing pain.
He knew that if this continued, he would either die from yang energy depletion or from a shattered shoulder.
Amidst his agony, the dancing in the courtyard ceased.
Zhang Yuanqing remained hidden, waiting a few more moments before cautiously peeking out through the window.
The courtyard was bathed in moonlight, the wild grass standing still. The eerie Dancing Shoes were gone.
"Huff," he exhaled a breath of relief. Just as he tried to stand, his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground.
With his taut nerves finally relaxing and the adrenaline fading, he realized his condition was far worse than he'd imagined.
A searing pain burned in his shoulder, as if the bone were about to split. His knee joints were stiff, and his blood felt like it had congealed.
Trembling, he grabbed the copper mirror. In its dusty surface, Zhang Yuanqing saw his face was deathly pale, his expression listless, and his pupils dull. He looked less like a normal person and more like a sickly, spent husk.
Perched on his shoulder, the Shoulder-Clinging Vengeful Spirit with its blackened lips stared at him in eerie silence.
If this continued, he would surely die. But what could he do? He couldn't even touch the Vengeful Spirit clinging to his shoulder.
The searing pain in his shoulder forced him to lean against the wall for support.
He glanced sideways at the corpse of the veteran worker. The two figures were in identical poses—one living, one dead.
"So that's how it is," Zhang Yuanqing murmured with a bitter smile.
He seemed to see his own end, to hear Death's sigh.
Yet Zhang Yuanqing refused to abandon his will to live. His mind remained sharp, like an overloaded CPU, desperately searching for a glimmer of hope in this dire situation.
In a flash, the corpse beneath the table in the Main Hall flickered through the chaotic stream of information.
"The shoulder fractures on the two corpses are different. The Main Hall corpse's shoulder injury wasn't fatal. Did the Shoulder-Clinging Vengeful Spirit spare him? No, Vengeful Spirits show no mercy."
"Why did he hide under the table?"
"The Red Dancing Shoes secretly followed me into the temple, but when I entered the Main Hall, they vanished."
At this realization, a glimmer of hope ignited in Zhang Yuanqing's dim, clouded eyes.
Return to the Main Hall! Immediately!
He immediately rose, staggering out of the room, each step heavy as if he were carrying a mountain on his back.
Thud!
He collapsed in the courtyard, falling into the overgrown weeds, unable to stand again.
Zhang Yuanqing's teeth chattered violently, clicking together in a staccato rhythm as he felt himself trapped in the grip of a bitter winter.
The biting cold drained his warmth and eroded his will.
Inch by inch, he crawled toward the Main Hall, summoning every ounce of strength. He kept his head raised, his eyes fixed on the silhouette of the building ahead, determined to keep the flame of hope alive in his gaze.
What would normally be a minute's walk from the Main Hall now felt as distant as the ends of the earth.
Finally, as he crawled under the eaves of the Main Hall, a phantom scream pierced his ears. The weight on his shoulders lifted, and the cold, dizziness, and stiffness vanished instantly.
Zhang Yuanqing scrambled onto the stone platform, staggered around to the front of the Main Hall, pushed open the latticed door, and collapsed over the threshold.
The candlelight, dim as a bean, dispelled the gloom, bringing a warmth that felt like a spring breeze.
He lay sprawled on the floor, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. After lying there for two or three minutes, he finally felt like he had come back to life.
"This is terrifying, utterly terrifying. My deduction was correct—the Main Hall is a safe haven."
Based on the differing shoulder injuries of the two skeletons, he concluded that something must have prevented the Vengeful Spirit from pursuing the person inside the hall.
The worker found curled up dead under the table fit the pattern of someone hiding in extreme fear.
In the mind of this deceased worker, the Main Hall was a place of safety.
The Red Dancing Shoes' abandonment of its pursuit further validated this hypothesis.
For the next few hours, Zhang Yuanqing remained in the Main Hall until the pain in his shoulder subsided and his body temperature returned to normal.
As expected, he encountered no further danger.
"If the Main Hall is a safe house, my chances of survival have undoubtedly increased. Even if the Shoulder-Clinging Vengeful Spirit drains my essence again, I can retreat to the hall. But if I encounter both the Vengeful Spirit and the Red Dancing Shoes, I doubt I could make it back.
"Moreover, the most sinister and terrifying source of this temple's mysteries is certainly not just the Vengeful Spirit."
He didn't grow complacent after resolving this life-threatening crisis. This ancient temple was far more complex than it seemed.
After all, an entire construction team had perished here before him.
After resting for a long while, he gradually calmed his fear and hesitated whether to continue exploring outside.
The voice in his mind echoed once more:
[ [Main Quest One: Survive for three hours (Completed)] ]
[ [Main Quest Two: Explore Spirit Realm 0079, Progress: 20%] ]
[ [Primordial Heavenly Venerable, congratulations on completing a main quest. Calculating rewards...] ]
[ [Obtained Item/Prop: Corpse Suppressing Talisman (Viewable in Inventory).] ]
[ [Gained Experience: 15%] ]
[ [Inventory unlocked.] ]
[ [You will receive 36 hours of rest. Spirit Realm 0079 will reopen in 35:59:40.] ]
The scenery within the Main Hall distorted, like water rippled by the wind.
When the image cleared again, Zhang Yuanqing saw the bright energy-saving lights, the spacious bed, the desk, the PS5 gaming console, and the open window through which the wind blew, causing the curtains to sway gently.
He was back in the human world.
"I'm back?"
He looked around in astonishment, confirming he was truly back in his room before his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the soft bed.
Taking a deep breath, he found even the air smelled sweet.
It's so good to be alive. The world is so beautiful.
After resting for a few minutes, Zhang Yuanqing sat up and unzipped his windbreaker. He discovered that the Corpse Suppressing Talisman was indeed gone.
The thought of "accessing my inventory" came to him naturally. In the next moment, a glowing blue grid appeared before his eyes.
There were five slots in total. In the first slot lay the Yellow Paper Talisman.
It was a strange sensation. Once the inventory was unlocked, this function seemed to become instinctive. He didn't need to learn how to open it; he just knew.
"Besides the Corpse Suppressing Talisman, I also gained 15% experience points, but my level remains at zero. This means I haven't become a Nightwalker yet; I'm still just an ordinary person."
"Surviving three hours nearly got me killed. How am I supposed to complete the second mission? Is this what S-Rank Difficulty is like?"
The more Zhang Yuanqing thought about it, the more despair he felt. He realized he'd been tricked by Bing Ge.
This broken card might indeed change his life, but it was also incredibly difficult to control.
He knew himself well enough to admit that he was just a college student who hadn't even killed a chicken. In the upcoming second mission, it would be nearly impossible for him to survive on his own.
As a model socialist youth with impeccable roots, he knew he had to rely on the state and the government in times like these.
He reached for his phone, intending to call his cousin, but his finger froze mid-touch.
Zhang Yuanqing realized he might have a better option.
He immediately swung his legs off the bed and rummaged through his desk drawer until he found the business card left by the man with the slicked-back hair.
The card listed the man's name and contact information.
Tonight's ordeal reminded him of Bing Ge's mysterious disappearance. If he hadn't survived, he too would have vanished without a trace.
It was clear Bing Ge had long been involved with the so-called Spirit Realm. Could his disappearance mean he had entered one?
If this theory held true, the Public Security Bureau investigators were likely trustworthy.
Another reason Zhang Yuanqing chose to contact the man with the slicked-back hair was the man's warning that he might also disappear—a clear implication that he would enter the Spirit Realm.
Considering his cousin's ignorance of these matters, Zhang Yuanqing reasonably concluded that the three were specialized personnel handling such incidents.
With his mind made up, Zhang Yuanqing dialed the number on the business card.
After a few rings, the call was answered. A deep, mature male voice asked, "Who's calling?"