After a faint, almost imperceptible sound, Abraham Lincoln emerged from his meditative state of repeatedly chanting scriptures.

A few wisps of faint spiritual power appeared in his parched mind, and the condensed spiritual energy, about the size of a soybean, seemed to have developed a barely noticeable crack. However, he still could not sense even the slightest trace of spiritual energy from the outside world.

On the surface of the chaotic green lotus, the scripture characters of the "Mahābōlán Sūtra" flickered, but as the silent recitation ceased, they quickly dimmed. Unlike in the other world, they did not activate on their own to continuously generate spiritual power.

The Dao produces fifty, Heaven uses forty-nine, thus leaving one; therefore, Heaven never completely blocks a person's path. Under the restrictive rules of this world's heavens and earth, cultivation is so difficult, but at least there remains a sliver of hope.

The results of cultivation here are twice the effort for half the reward, and progress is far inferior to that in the other world. Still, the fact that cultivation is possible at all allowed Abraham Lincoln to breathe a long sigh of relief, finally feeling the weight in his heart lift.

With another thought, a spirit crystal the size of an egg rolled to his feet, and at the same time, a wisp of spiritual power vanished. In this world, where spiritual energy is nonexistent, every spirit crystal used from the storage ring is one less remaining.

With the change in rules, even opening the storage ring is no longer as easy as in the other world—a single wisp of spiritual power can only open it once.

……

When he stopped cultivating his spiritual power, daylight had already fully arrived.

Only then did Abraham Lincoln, who had sat all night at the dining table, notice that the television was still on, but the figure of the green flood-dragon demoness was nowhere to be seen on the sofa.

His gaze swept around and soon spotted her coiled up on the book bed, at some point having opened a laptop. Like a seasoned driver, her tail pressed on the mouse as she enthusiastically played Minesweeper.

This demoness really adapts quickly—she learned to use a computer in just one night.

Modern society is also called the information society; people can easily access vast amounts of information. Watching TV for one night can yield even more than traveling ten thousand miles or reading ten thousand books in ancient times.

The demoness mastered these things ten or even a hundred times faster than ordinary people. If she weren’t so cunning and clever, she would have long ago been eaten as a snack by the great demons of the Kunlun Demon Domain.

After finishing a simple breakfast, Abraham Lincoln tidied himself up. With a few snips, his long hair was cut short and choppy, instantly losing his refined air. He now looked energetic and full of vitality, regaining his original appearance in this world.

Seeing the green flood-dragon demoness still playing Minesweeper, he instructed, “Stay at home and behave. Breakfast is in the pot, there are ingredients in the fridge and kitchen—learn to use the kitchenware yourself, understand? Don’t go out, and don’t rummage through things.”

Yesterday at the hospital, he had already scared a rich second-generation kid badly; he didn’t want a repeat with any other patients.

A flash of blue electric light flickered in the room, and Abraham Lincoln's neck was gently wrapped. With a slight tingling sensation, he knew the demoness would never forget her customary good-morning bite.

“Got it, darling!”

The demoness coquettishly acted cute in her sickly sweet voice.

There were so many novel things in this world that fascinated her—a single computer could probably keep her entertained for half a year.

……

The schedule for the East China Three Provinces and One City Psychiatric and Mental Health Conference, led by the Seventh People's Hospital, had entered its final day. The ever-director Dean Carter personally led the team, guiding his peers into the inpatient department, separated from the outpatient building by just one wall.

On top of the high walls were electric fences and infrared sensors, with high-definition cameras crisscrossing the corners. Add to that the elite retired special forces security guards patrolling day and night, and the level of security was on par with a detention center.

If a psychiatric patient with no self-control had an episode, whether they hurt others or themselves, it was something neither the hospital nor the patients’ families wanted to see.

No wonder the doctors and nurses liked to call the inpatient department the "harem"—everyone inside was a VIP, closely watched and guarded, with no casual comings and goings. Each one was precious and carefully attended to, lest they get bumped or bruised.

When not having an episode, the inpatients were no different from ordinary people. Aside from taking their medication on time, they could move about freely, play chess, watch TV, read, recite poetry, and enjoy themselves.

At the very back of the inpatient department behind the outpatient building was a special area, indistinguishable from a real detention center, known as the "cold palace" of the harem—the intensive care unit. The patients there all had violent tendencies, commonly called "martial lunatics" in the secular world. Killing without remorse was the bare minimum; even more frightening, some patients showed no warning signs before an episode. Even with straitjackets and isolation rooms, they were still impossible to guard against.

For over twenty years, with Vice Dean Walker, a master of the tranquilizer gun, personally overseeing things, there had never been a single incident. People called her the "Invincible Sharpshooter."

Someone once wrote: "When I fall ill, madness takes hold, the needle arrives in a flash, and I collapse within seven steps. All are amazed, and the old woman laughs: 'Nothing special, just skillful hands.'"

After retiring and being rehired, Vice Dean Walker returned to her post, her prestige undiminished. She was now also called "Double-Gun Granny Wang." Just standing there, she was even more effective than tranquilizers.

Doctors from other hospitals who came to exchange experiences couldn’t help but pay their respects and seek her advice.

Section 9: When the City Gate Catches Fire

Psychiatric specialists from major hospitals across the three provinces and one city of East China, with their professional expertise, could always spot something that caught their eye.