After a few days together, Auntie Fung’s attitude toward Sunri began to shift.

  She had been observing him quietly.

  And she discovered that this young man—

  gentle, steady, and pure?hearted—

  treated spirits with a natural calmness.

  He had compassion, but also the ability to guide.

  Most importantly, the necklace around his neck—

  though she didn’t know its true origin—

  radiated a warm, upright, and profound energy that resonated perfectly with his own temperament.

  “Sigh… My Maoshan skills are half?learned, sloppy at best. I’m not really qualified to take disciples.”

  One afternoon, while cracking melon seeds, she spoke to Sunri, who was helping her clean the small shrine.

  “But when I look at you, I feel it’d be a waste not to teach you something.

  In this line of work, a righteous heart is more important than fancy techniques.

  Your heart—and that necklace of yours—already beats ninety?nine percent of the frauds out there!

  So? Interested in learning a few tricks?

  No need to call me ‘Master.’

  Just take it as your big sister teaching you a couple of self?defense moves!”

  Sunri blinked, surprised.

  He hadn’t expected such an offer.

  But after a moment’s thought—

  in a world where spirits openly manifested,

  learning local methods could only help him protect Pardy and the others.

  He bowed sincerely.

  “Thank you, Auntie Fung. I’d be honored.”

  “Good!” She slapped her thigh, energized.

  “First, I’ll teach you the most practical talisman—

  the Spirit?Suppressing Seal!

  Don’t be fooled by all the fancy designs sold on the street.

  My version is simple and powerful!

  Though… the effect changes every time I draw it…

  Maybe because my hand shakes…”

  The lesson that followed was pure chaos.

  Auntie Fung’s “theory” was a patchwork of hearsay:

  “My grandpa said…”

  “My old master once muttered when he was drunk…”

  “I think it should be like this…”

  Windbeak, perched on the hanging lamp, naturally refused to let the nonsense slide.

  “Auntie Fung, your stroke order is wrong.

  The energy flow jams at the third turn.

  If this talisman doesn’t self?ignite, it’ll already be a miracle.”

  “What do you mean ‘mix cinnabar with virgin blood’?

  Who told you that?

  What does biological sex have to do with energy purity?

  Pseudoscience!”

  “Wow, you even missed a stroke in the word ‘Decree’?

  Is this talisman meant to be a joke?”

  Auntie Fung flushed with indignation, grabbing a handful of melon seed shells and throwing them at Windbeak (missing, of course).

  “You damn bird! If you don’t know, don’t talk!

  I’ve survived decades in this business with nothing but guts and… creativity!

  If you’re so smart, YOU draw it!”

  “I am a Spirit?Quantum?Mechanical Tri?Phase Symbiotic Entity.

  I don’t need talismans.”

  Windbeak lifted his head proudly.

  “I rely on innate perception and energy modulation.

  Much more scientific than your doodles!”

  “Bah! Can science explain why the last time I used the wrong ink, the talisman still scared off a green?eyed ghoul?”

  “Maybe the ghoul had artistic standards and couldn’t stand looking at it.”

  The bickering between woman and bird filled the room,

  turning the messy lesson into something unexpectedly lively.

  Sunri tried not to laugh as he filtered useful information from the chaos—

  combining Auntie Fung’s half?baked teachings,

  Windbeak’s snarky corrections,

  his own intuitive understanding of energy (partly from Lunelle’s necklace),

  and Lin Che’s logical energy models.

  Surprisingly, he began to grasp the basics.

  Despite her sloppy methods, Auntie Fung’s talismans did work—

  which was why spirits avoided provoking her.

  A few days later, she solemnly handed Sunri two “magical tools.”

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  First: three talismans she called the “Three?Stage Seals.”

  “One stage freezes, two stages disperses, three stages…

  Well, I’ve never tried the third.

  Maybe it transcends the spirit?

  Anyway, keep them safe.

  When the time comes, throw it and shout ‘By the decree of Heaven!’

  Remember—shout loudly!

  Momentum is important!”

  Despite her chaotic teaching, these three talismans were drawn during one of her rare “smooth?hand” moments and carried genuine intent.

  Second: a peachwood sword—old, but still sturdy.

  “The sword isn’t consecrated yet.

  I meant to find a master to do it, but I’ve been too busy.

  Take it first.

  If anything happens, at least you can wave it at ghosts.

  Peachwood always helps a bit.

  As for consecration…

  You figure it out.

  Your necklace is so powerful—maybe just chant at it?”

  She said this with complete irresponsibility.

  The sword’s handle even had a cheap, knockoff Hello Mitty sticker stuck to it.

  “Oh, that?

  The previous tenant’s kid put it there.

  I couldn’t peel it off.

  Just take it as extra blessing!

  Hello Mitty is cute!”

  Sunri accepted the “half?baked magical tools,”

  laughing helplessly but genuinely grateful.

  He could feel her warm heart behind the gifts.

  Meanwhile, Lin Che’s “Spirit Clinic” quietly opened.

  He had only been organizing notes in his room,

  occasionally “counseling” a lost spirit using his hybrid energy?psychology theories.

  But word spread—

  perhaps through some spirit information network.

  Soon, every evening,

  the hallway outside his room filled with faint silhouettes—

  spirits of all shapes, mostly confused or troubled.

  They weren’t malicious—

  just stuck, fragmented, or lost.

  Lin Che accepted them all.

  He placed a chair at the door,

  a notebook on his lap,

  and began “consultations” like a proper clinic.

  “Next. Symptoms?”

  “Doctor… my chest hurts… like a stone pressing on it…”

  “Energy stagnation with emotional residue.

  Describe the last thing you worried about before death.

  We’ll perform cognitive release.”

  “I… I miss the soup my wife made… I never got to drink it…”

  “Describe the soup.

  The smell, the warmth.

  Make the memory concrete, then let it go.”

  “Doctor, I keep feeling like I’m still working overtime at the office…”

  “Residual work compulsion.

  Imagine turning off your computer, locking the office door,

  and telling yourself, ‘Work’s done for today.’”

  “Doctor… I don’t remember who I am…”

  “Memory fragmentation.

  Start with the clearest object you recall.

  This watch—what does its style remind you of?”

  Calm, clinical, logical—

  Lin Che guided them one by one,

  occasionally using small glowing devices he’d crafted (with cinnabar or mineral dust mixed in),

  calling it “energy field micro?adjustment.”

  The results were shockingly effective.

  Many spirits found clarity,

  released their attachments,

  and dispersed peacefully.

  One day, Windbeak returned, saw the long line of spirits waiting,

  and nearly fell out of the air.

  “My—my antennae (if I had any) are going to short?circuit!

  Bookworm Doctor actually turned this place into a community health center?!

  A spirit specialty clinic?!”

  Auntie Fung clicked her tongue in admiration.

  “Young people these days!

  I use talismans and rituals,

  he uses his mouth and weird gadgets—

  and it actually works!”

  At that moment, the Ancient Book flipped open:

  【Name】 Lin Che

  【Role】 Healer

  【Level】 2 (+1)

  【Attributes】 Analysis / Medicine / Logic

  【Skills】 First Aid / Pulse Diagnosis / Pharmacology / Combat Cooking / Fear Overcome / (New) Exorcism?

  【Revelation】 Obscured

  The book hesitated—

  then closed.

  That evening, Sunri had just finished another round of crooked talisman practice (the symbols barely recognizable, but faintly carrying the necklace’s natural energy flow).

  He held the peachwood sword with the Hello Mitty sticker,

  trying to sense its faint spiritual resonance.

  Pardy was drawing quietly.

  Ye Lingyun was attempting to meditate (though his muscles tensed every time a spirit drifted by).

  Lin Che’s clinic had just begun—spirits were already lining up.

  Windbeak was off scavenging.

  Mo?Dou napped on Sunri’s lap.

  Suddenly, Mo?Dou’s ears twitched.

  His golden eyes opened.

  From downstairs came Auntie Fung’s hurried footsteps and raised voice:

  “Oi! Everyone upstairs! Come help! Big problem!”

  They rushed down.

  Inside the detective agency stood Auntie Fung—

  and another man.

  An elderly gentleman in a dark, finely made Tang suit,

  hair slicked back,

  expression stern and rigid.

  He looked about seventy,

  holding a black, glossy cane carved with a fierce beast head.

  He stood still, radiating a heavy, oppressive aura that clashed with the messy office.

  More unsettling—

  behind him, the shadows churned,

  two dark masses shifting slowly,

  exuding a suffocating cold that sent all the weaker spirits fleeing instantly.

  Even Windbeak fell silent.

  The old man’s gaze swept across them—

  Ye Lingyun’s sword,

  Lin Che’s white coat,

  Sunri’s peachwood sword,

  Windbeak perched on the cabinet—

  and finally settled on Sunri’s face.

  Or rather—

  on the faintly glowing necklace at his throat.

  He spoke, voice raspy yet authoritative,

  the tone of someone long accustomed to command:

  “A?Fung, these are the ‘strange talents’ you’ve taken in recently?

  Good.

  I’ve come at the right time.

  Kowloon Walled City…

  is not peaceful lately.

  We need capable newcomers

  to go in and ‘take a look.’”

  Auntie Fung’s expression grew unusually serious—

  even a bit fearful.

  She whispered to Sunri and the others:

  “This is Uncle Hung—

  one of the true big figures in Hong Kong’s spirit world.

  If he’s talking about the Walled City…

  and that place…

  we’re in trouble.”

  Uncle Hung nodded slightly,

  his gaze still locked on Sunri—

  or the necklace.

  “Young man.

  You carry something impressive.

  Interested in taking on a real job?”

  He paused.

  “Because inside the Walled City…

  there is something you’re looking for.”