Huaihua Alley and Old North Street were quite far apart, so Song Miaozhu hadn't come all this way just for a meal and casual chat. She had also taken the opportunity to observe the spiritual energy surrounding Aunt Chen and Chen Shuanghe.
Aunt Chen seemed in good shape—her body was strong and there was no sign of illness. In fact, there was even a faint glow of spiritual light around her arms and hands. But Chen Shuanghe was another story. There was a patch of grayish spiritual illness on her body. It wasn't dark gray yet, let alone black, but the shade had deepened to a worrying medium gray.
"Shuanghe, have you had a medical check-up recently?" Song Miaozhu asked.
"A check-up? Who does that when they're young?" Chen Shuanghe scoffed.
"You should probably get one soon," Song Miaozhu said, pointing to the area above her right abdomen. "My vision has improved lately—I can see more than before. What's located here again? I can see illness accumulating in this spot. Better to get it checked."
Before Chen Shuanghe could respond, Aunt Chen's expression changed drastically. "Miaozhu, are you certain it's that area?"
Song Miaozhu nodded.
"It seemed Aunt Chen knew something."
"Shuanghe, we're closing the restaurant tomorrow. I'm taking you to the hospital!" Aunt Chen said firmly. "That's your liver! Your father died of liver cancer!"
"L-Liver cancer?!" Chen Shuanghe stammered.
"I don't think it's cancer yet," Song Miaozhu reassured her. "The aura of cancerous illness is almost black—your spiritual aura is still only medium gray. It shouldn't be too serious yet."
The mother and daughter finally let out a breath of relief. "As long as it's not cancer, there's still hope."
"Even if it is," Song Miaozhu added, "once you've trained enough in spiritual cooking and can start absorbing spiritual energy, the illness can be cleared in no time."
"I'll be moving back into the old house soon," she continued. "It'll be easier for me to come by the restaurant. I'll keep an eye on Shuanghe for you."
"Thank you!" Aunt Chen sighed. "Spiritual energy is truly miraculous—it can even cure cancer. If only Shuanghe's father were still here…"
As it was getting late, Song Miaozhu bid them farewell and left the restaurant. But she didn't head straight back to the paper shop. Instead, she pedaled toward the old residence that was still undergoing renovations. The area around the old house was mostly deserted, meaning the spiritual energy floating in the air hadn't been absorbed much yet.
She retrieved her paper-crafting materials from the ghost shop's storage and settled on the stone bench beneath the ancient locust tree, folding golden lotus flowers. Immediately, the spiritual energy dots were drawn toward her, piercing through layers and flowing into the space between her brows.
By the time she finished a basket of lotuses, the nearby spiritual energy had been completely absorbed. Inside her brow space, the pea-sized crimson square gas cluster in her brow-space had finally condensed from mist into solid form a crystalline cube.
Song Miaozhu focused her mind and "looked" inward.
There it stood, solid and unmoving, nestled into a corner of her brow-space. She tried to will it to move—but it didn't respond at all.
"What was this thing?"
Ancient cultivation texts described adepts drawing spiritual energy into their bodies, opening the dantian's inner space, and converting the five elemental energies into personal spiritual power.
"This brow space resembled the dantian, but what was the cube? Did I truly succeed in absorbing spiritual energy? Then where was my spiritual power?"
In the midst of her confusion, a thin strand of red energy emerged from the crimson crystal, coursing through her body from the center of her brow, circulating fully before returning to its origin and vanishing.
After one full cycle, her body felt lighter.
Inspecting the cube again, she noticed its crimson hue had faded slightly.
She tried summoning another wisp, this time guiding it directly to her fingertips. Unlike before, where she had only sensed it, now she saw it—a thread of crimson energy, similar to spiritual light dots but wholly under her control.
"Is this spiritual power?" she wondered. "Crimson spiritual energy… Does that mean it's fire-attribute?"
She shook her head. "Unlikely. Ancient texts described fire-attribute energy as hot and restless, but this energy was gentle and docile."
Picking up a scrap of paper, she touched it with the crimson energy—no scorching, no burn.
Not fire-attribute.
"Then again, modern spiritual energy is white with rainbow hues—no clear elemental divisions. Maybe spiritual power has changed too."
She dismissed the thought, though she lamented one consequence: If spiritual power no longer followed the five elements, then the Five-Element Minor Spells manual gifted by Sister Xiang Yun was probably just fancy scrap paper now.
All its spells required a corresponding elemental affinity to cast.
Luckily, even if Five-Element Minor Spells was useless, she still had The Secret Art of Paper Crafting.
That one didn't care about elemental attributes. Any spiritual power—even fire—could be used to animate paper.
In fact, using different types of power would result in different traits.
For example, paper servants empowered with fire-type energy could withstand flames. Those animated with water-type energy were immune to water.
The bamboo paper infused with spiritual energy that Wu Zhuxiang had sent was still en route, so Song Miaozhu settled for ordinary paper. As usual, she cut out a palm-sized paper figure. But instead of infusing it with yin energy, she channeled her crimson spiritual power.
This was the true method of animating paper servants.
Spiritually powered servants could operate day or night, develop sentience, and—even if their bodies were destroyed—retain their memories when recreated. Only then could the technique be considered a truly progressive art.
The moment the energy entered, the paper figure stood.
Unlike yin-energy puppets, this time Song Miaozhu shared its vision—its perspective overlapped with hers in her mind.
Their connection ran deeper.
Its sentience, too, surpassed anything yin energy could achieve. It no longer needed micromanagement.
At first, it required clear commands. But with nurturing, it could eventually act on its master's instincts, handling surprises autonomously.
Although... "Wasn't this one seemed… unusually self-aware?"
Song Miaozhu hadn't told it to do anything yet, but it stood there poking and prodding its own body. Then it squatted down and covered its paper face with its tiny hands—as if it were sulking.
"Move," she told it.
The paper doll stood up, lifted its head, and while staring at her, twisted its paper fingers into a point and started poking itself again.
When she didn't react, it stomped its foot and squatted back down, curling into a ball like it was having an emotional breakdown.