“What is the Spirit Realm?”

He had too many questions he wanted answered, so he could only start with the most basic one.

“I can’t tell you right now. If you want to know about the Spirit Realm, you have to make a choice.” David Thompson said in a deep voice:

“The official stance on the Spirit Realm is twofold. One is to recruit and nurture, the other is to supervise and control. The former means joining us and becoming a member of the official Spirit Realm Walkers.

“The latter is to be a rogue practitioner. You just need to register with us and promise not to use your abilities to break the law, and we won’t interfere. Of course, you also won’t get any help from the authorities.”

Without hesitation, Michael Bolton said, “I’m willing to join the organization and dedicate myself to the country and the people.”

David Thompson smiled and said, “As expected from someone born into a family of security officers, you have a strong sense of duty.”

For a moment, Michael Bolton couldn’t tell if he was being mocked or praised.

“Well then, get some rest. I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning,” David Thompson said.

Huh? Not now? Michael Bolton hesitated, “Tomorrow?”

“What else? Do you know what time it is? Even if you want to dedicate yourself to the organization, you’ll have to wait until office hours.”

He just doesn’t want to talk over the phone, afraid I’ll back out after getting the intel for free? So we have to meet in person tomorrow… Michael Bolton could only reply helplessly, “Alright.”

After hanging up, he glanced at his phone. The time showed 11 p.m. The flow of time in the Spirit Realm was the same as in the real world.

Having successfully contacted the official organization, Michael Bolton felt much more at ease. At this moment, the exhaustion from struggling to survive in the Spirit Realm surged over him.

He lay on the bed, set his alarm, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier, and soon fell into a deep sleep.

……

The next morning, at 7:15, Michael Bolton was startled awake by the alarm, nearly suffering a heart attack on the spot.

He turned off the alarm while yawning and got out of bed.

His sleep quality last night was poor; he had several nightmares, all involving ghosts and monsters, waking up multiple times.

In the living room, his grandfather sat on the sofa watching the news. His hair was silver and sparse, his figure tall, and his wrinkled face stern and unsmiling, exuding an air of strictness.

His grandmother was clattering around in the kitchen making breakfast. By the long dining table, his aunt was squatting on a chair playing with her phone, cheeks puffed out like a cute hamster.

“Up so early?”

His aunt scrutinized her listless nephew and teased, “You look like you’ve overindulged. Did you do something bad last night? I’m going to check your trash can.”

Normally, Michael Bolton would retort: Looking for food?

But now, with his mind on the Spirit Realm and the upcoming meeting with the official organization, he wasn’t in the mood to bicker with his aunt.

He sat down listlessly beside her, staring blankly as he waited for breakfast.

Soon, his grandmother brought out steaming rice porridge, fried dough sticks, boiled eggs, and a basket of meat buns.

Michael Bolton took a sip of hot porridge to moisten his throat, looked at his grandfather, and tentatively asked:

“Grandpa, I remember after the construction crew disappeared in the Sheling Tunnel back then, the Security Bureau organized a search party. You were part of it, right?”

Grandpa grunted, a bit puzzled, “That was ages ago. Why are you asking about it now?”

“I saw the story online again yesterday. Do you know what happened to the worker who was found?”

Grandpa frowned and said, “I forgot. It was so long ago, I can’t remember.”

“Didn’t he go missing again?” Grandma chimed in, joining the discussion with interest. “And it was a bizarre disappearance. Back then, it caused a panic in the police force. The head of the main bureau even came down personally to calm everyone before things settled down.”

“That happened?” Grandpa denied it.

“Mr. Brooks, are you getting senile? You told me about it yourself,” Grandma insisted.

…Grandpa lowered his head and drank his porridge. “You should believe in science, not get caught up in superstitions. The older you get, the more gossipy you become.”

Disappeared again after being found… Michael Bolton sipped his porridge, feeling a bit down.

It was obvious that the survivor had entered the Spirit Realm again after 36 hours, and this time, he didn’t make it out alive.

He had been right—the death rate at the Mountain God Temple was extremely high, and the second main quest was very, very dangerous.

If he wanted to survive, relying on the authorities was the best choice.

After breakfast and a quick wash, Michael Bolton took the elevator downstairs and waited at the entrance of the complex for over ten minutes.

A black business van slowly pulled up, the electric door sliding open automatically. David Thompson sat on a white leather sofa, leaning on a cane with his legs together.

He was dressed the same as yesterday: black suit, black vest, white shirt, hair slicked back neatly, and sporting two finely groomed mustaches.

“Get in, college student.”

David Thompson smiled.

“Alright, Investigator.” Michael Bolton smiled back.

Once he got in, the black business van merged into traffic, cruising steadily down the morning streets.

David Thompson opened the car fridge and asked, “What would you like to drink?”

“Coke!”

“Then you’ll have to buy it yourself at the supermarket later.” David Thompson poured himself a glass of whiskey, dropped in an ice ball, leaned back in his seat with his drink, and said leisurely: