Zhang Yuanqing pondered in silence for a long time, ultimately deciding to keep the existence of the Red Dancing Shoes a secret for now.
Firstly, Ou Xiangrong's escape had only just begun, and the Five Elements Alliance's follow-up actions were still unfolding. As an official organization, they likely had other methods to track down the Seductive Demon. There was no need for a newcomer like him to intervene.
Secondly, he was merely a Level 1 Nightwalker, a novice among Spirit Realm Walkers. Revealing the existence of a Rule Item would likely attract unwanted attention and covetous eyes.
He resolved to observe the situation first, waiting to see what actions the organization would take before making his next move. Zhang Yuanqing stopped thinking further, gazing out the car window at the nightscape as he waited to reach his destination.
For now, improving his own strength was paramount.
Five minutes later, the taxi dropped him off at the entrance of Songhai Pulmonary Hospital. After paying the fare, Zhang Yuanqing entered the hospital, heading straight for the emergency department building.
At this late hour, the outpatient clinics had closed, leaving the emergency department as the hospital's primary hub for patients and staff.
Inside the bustling emergency department, patients either sat on public chairs or moved between the payment windows and various examination rooms.
Zhang Yuanqing weaved through the crowded payment hall, found a seat near the restrooms, stretched out his legs, and settled in to wait.
For Spectral Entities, the Nightwalker's aura was like a firefly in the darkness—so dazzling and distinct.
No need to actively seek them out; they would come to him on their own.
The Spectral Entities of ordinary people only lingered for seven days. Unless someone had recently died nearby, they wouldn't wait for the spirits to come knocking. That's why hospitals were the perfect place for leveling up.
About five minutes later, Zhang Yuanqing saw an elderly man in a hospital gown, his eyes vacant and his gait stiff, moving through the crowd toward him.
The old man's form wavered between the ethereal and the real. Patients passed through his body as if he were air.
His face was gaunt, his white eyes chilling, and he radiated an aura of pain and regret.
This was a Vengeful Spirit.
Typically, upon death, humans transformed into Vengeful Spirits. There were no Spectral Entities with peaceful auras, for no one willingly embraced death.
Their lingering attachment to life and fear of death ultimately coalesced into powerless resentment.
As the old man approached, Zhang Yuanqing opened his mouth and gently inhaled.
The old man's Spectral Entity dissolved into blue smoke, drifting gracefully into Zhang Yuanqing's mouth.
A throbbing pain surged between his eyebrows, and his consciousness abruptly expanded. Zhang Yuanqing began to access the fragmented memories of the old man's life.
The old man had died from late-stage lung cancer. In the final months of his life, he had succumbed to the dual torment of chemotherapy and the disease itself—coughing up blood, losing his hair, gasping for breath, wracked with pain. His passing had been far from peaceful.
His last lingering thought was regret for ever starting to smoke.
"I'll never smoke again," Zhang Yuanqing blurted out, his face contorted with remorse as he opened his eyes.
The people around him stared in surprise.
Zhang Yuanqing maintained a blank expression, pretending nothing had happened to mask his embarrassment.
Only after the passersby averted their gazes and his turbulent emotions subsided did he open his attribute panel, the fluorescent blue screen unfolding:
[ Experience Points: 44.5% ]
"Zhao Yingjun's Spectral Entity yielded two experience points, while ordinary people only give 0.5. Is it like normal monsters versus elite monsters? And the experience points seem to diminish further down the line—probably less than 0.5. Looks like I'll have to accumulate them bit by bit," Zhang Yuanqing mused.
Regardless, this direct, visible progress was gratifying.
He returned to his seat, pretending nothing had happened. A few minutes later, a middle-aged man in a suit, dressed like a typical office worker, walked stiffly toward him.
The surrounding people ignored the man, even passing right through him.
Following the same method, Zhang Yuanqing absorbed the man's Spectral Entity. As the entity transformed into nourishment for his Nightwalker powers, a flood of memories surged into his mind like a tidal wave.
The middle-aged man had died from overwork, succumbing to a sudden heart attack—a victim of the infamous "996 blessing."
The middle-aged man passed away peacefully. Sudden death is instantaneous, leaving no time to feel pain.
But after accessing his memories, Zhang Yuanqing learned that his wife had just given birth to their second child, still an infant. He had been working so tirelessly, throwing himself into the "blessed" 996 work culture, all to earn money for baby formula.
Even more tragically, the man was born in the 1980s, an era when siblings were rare. With his death, his elderly parents would have no one to care for them in their later years.
To sacrifice one's life for money, only to lose everything in the end, rendered it all meaningless.
Zhang Yuanqing's consciousness returned, overwhelmed by a piercing grief and profound confusion.
What was the point of such a life? He sat blankly, his face expressionless for a long time.
Just then, the third Spectral Entity approached.
It was a woman with striking features, Korean-style semi-permanent eyebrows, and clothes that exuded luxury and refinement.
A high-quality woman.
"So young and beautiful to die... What a waste," Zhang Yuanqing murmured.
As she drew closer, he noticed a deep indentation in her chest, her black, form-fitting dress soaked in phantom blood. Her skull had also suffered a catastrophic injury, the blood matting her hair into sticky strands.
She wasn't wearing a hospital gown, meaning she hadn't died during hospitalization but rather from an accident or murder. With a gentle inhale, Zhang Yuanqing devoured the high-quality woman's Spectral Entity.
A throbbing sensation erupted between his brows as memories not his own flooded his Sea of Consciousness.
Darkness engulfed Zhang Yuanqing's vision, followed by the sight of long, slender, pale legs perched on the edge of a bed. The woman was slowly rolling black stockings up her thighs.
Ah, so that's how women put on stockings, Zhang Yuanqing thought, his twenty years of being single since birth suddenly feeling like a crash course in life.
A man's husky voice drifted from behind him:
"Don't text me at night anymore. My wife almost saw it last night."
Zhang Yuanqing's heart skipped a beat.
A man, a bed, stockings... anyone could guess what had just happened here.
I really shouldn't devour female Spectral Entities so casually. It's just not right! he muttered to himself, inwardly relieved. Thank goodness the memory started with the stockings. If it had been a few minutes earlier, I might have been lying down... or kneeling...
Hmm, no strange taste in my mouth either. Good, good. As he pondered this, he heard the woman he was possessing scoff:
"Wouldn't that be perfect? You could divorce her and marry me."
The man rustled as he dressed, sneering:
"I have a son and a daughter, and we're planning for a third child next year. Why would I divorce her for you? Besides, divorcing would mean splitting half my assets."
"Didn't we agree? You'd be my mistress, and I'd pay you. Once you've saved enough, you can marry whoever you want—even some honest fool. Just let me know when you want to end things. But don't get any ideas you shouldn't have."
The woman seemed furious, not uttering another word. After the man left, she sped through the streets in her little BMW, venting her anger.
She ended up crashing, and despite all efforts to save her, she died.
The vision ended. Zhang Yuanqing opened his eyes, massaging his throbbing temples. A wave of indignation washed over him. Sisters, why bother? he thought. High-end seafood merchants often thrive with simple auction methods—there's a market everywhere. Why waste your energy arguing with a man? How many good ones are there anyway?
And marrying an honest fool? That's never going to happen. Not in this lifetime.
As he thought this, he suddenly realized something was off.
Why am I empathizing so strongly with this woman? I'm a gunslinger, after all.
A few seconds later, Zhang Yuanqing understood. He had unconsciously been influenced by the high-quality women around him, his thoughts becoming more feminine, and a deep-seated desire for money and material possessions had taken root in his heart.
Even his impulsive "I don't smoke" earlier had been influenced by the old man's Spectral Entity.
After Zhang Yuanqing had initially stabilized his mind, the fourth Spectral Entity approached—a slender, handsome young man who immediately evoked images of a "Little Milk Dog."
"Not bad-looking," Zhang Yuanqing thought. "Still, possessing a male Spectral Entity is safer. If things get rough, I'll be on top."
He opened his mouth and swallowed the Little Milk Dog Spectral Entity whole.
A piercing noise vibrated his eardrums as full-color LED lights spun wildly, creating a dizzying spectacle of light pollution.
Everywhere he looked, figures swayed and heads bobbed, the air thick with the acrid smell of smoke.
This was a bar.
Zhang Yuanqing felt his body sway uncontrollably as he grabbed a glass from the booth and clinked it against his friend's, both laughing uproariously.
In this unrestrained release of emotion, amidst the empty pleasures of alcohol and dice, the Little Milk Dog and his friend didn't leave until two in the morning.
They called a ride-hailing service and returned to their rented apartment. The muscular friend helped the Little Milk Dog open the bedroom door.
Though Zhang Yuanqing couldn't control his body, his consciousness remained clear. He sensed the possessed man was dead drunk, his head throbbing with pain. Zhang Yuanqing guessed he had either died from alcohol poisoning or suffered a sudden cardiac arrest.
Just as he was speculating, the Little Milk Dog was tossed onto the bed. His friend removed his shoes and pants, pulled the blanket over him, and wiped the sweat from his face with a wet wipe.
This friend is a keeper, Zhang Yuanqing thought to himself.
The thought had barely formed when he noticed his friend starting to undress, pulling back the covers, and quickly stripping Little Milk Dog naked.
Zhang Yuanqing froze, sensing something was terribly wrong.
Just then, he heard Little Milk Dog mumble groggily, "Husband~"
The "friend" pressed down on Little Milk Dog's bare body, raised the jar of Vaseline, and slurred through his alcohol-laden breath, "Bend over, I'll give you some lube!"
??? Zhang Yuanqing's mind exploded like a thunderclap, as if struck by lightning.
No! No! No!
You can't do this! You can't do this!!
In a frenzy of terror and panic, Zhang Yuanqing forcibly cut off the memory retrieval.
In the clinic waiting room, beside the restroom, Zhang Yuanqing's eyes snapped open as if from a nightmare, gasping for air like he was suffocating.
His face was pale, his eyes wide with horror, and his back drenched in sweat.
"Young man, are you alright?" the middle-aged woman beside him asked with concern. "Have you registered? What's bothering you?"
Zhang Yuanqing waved her off, indicating he was fine, and bolted into the restroom. He turned on the faucet and splashed handful after handful of cold water onto his face.
This is too terrifying! Men are too terrifying!
He had suffered a trauma no one of his gender should ever endure.