“Don’t worry, you’re a rich man now. Franklin Lewis won’t be able to mess with you that easily. If anything comes up, just call me—don’t do anything reckless.”

Andrew finished his instructions and signaled the driver to start the car.

Chris stood by the roadside, watching the car disappear at the corner of 16th Street before finally letting out a long breath.

Bruno and Mia had already gotten off work, and Ghost was especially quiet at this hour.

Chris walked to the entrance and suddenly slapped his forehead.

Damn, how am I supposed to get back?

He’d come here in Adam’s car during the day, and now Bruno and Mia were both gone...

Forget it, I’ll just spend the night here!

Two thousand five hundred years ago, he used to sleep rough, exposed to the elements.

Most of the time, the sky was his blanket and the earth his bed.

Ghost might be a bit deserted, but compared to back then, the conditions were a thousand times better.

He’d just have to make do.

Not far away was a food truck selling hot dogs. Chris bought three hot dog combos and strolled back to Ghost.

He locked the main door, then turned off the lights at the front desk.

He took the elevator up to the third floor and returned to the office.

Thomas’s office was quite spacious, with just the outer room alone being forty square meters.

Inside, the bedroom was about sixty square meters, fully equipped with household appliances. There was even a bathtub in the bathroom, so he could take a soak.

The wardrobe displayed more than a dozen sets of clothes.

There were suits, Tang suits, dress shirts... all sorts, really.

Chris turned on the TV and sat down on the sofa.

He picked up his phone, a bit curious, and turned it on. Instantly, the phone started dinging non-stop—missed calls, messages, emails, and social media notifications all flooded in, leaving Chris a bit flustered.

He knew how to use a phone, but he’d never actually used one before.

He sat there for quite a while before finally figuring out how everything worked.

First, he called Adam, who was at home having dinner with his parents.

When he learned that Chris was fine, he breathed a sigh of relief and started chatting with Chris on the phone.

“I never would’ve guessed that Andrew·Steve is your lawyer.”

“Yeah, he and Thomas are old friends. He’s watched me grow up since I was a kid.”

“You make it sound so easy. Do you have any idea how amazing he is? He’s never lost a case he’s taken on.”

“I’m not too sure about that. Anyway, Thomas and I have always entrusted him with our affairs.”

As Chris spoke, he took a bite of his hot dog.

He wasn’t picky about food. Honestly, back in his time, it was hard to find anything truly delicious.

“By the way, do me a favor tomorrow.”

“What is it?”

“I need to go to the FBI to deal with Thomas’s body. My car’s at home, so come pick me up tomorrow.”

Adam was stunned for a moment and blurted out, “You’re still at the funeral home?”

“No kidding. Bruno and Mia aren’t here, and I didn’t drive today.”

“Bro, that’s rough. Aren’t you scared? That’s a funeral home!”

Hearing Adam gloating, even the hot dog lost its flavor.

“Cut the crap. Remember to come early tomorrow. I’m hanging up.”

With that, he hung up without waiting for Adam’s reply.

On TV, an old guy who looked a bit senile was giving a speech—rambling on and on, not interesting at all.

This guy must be seventy or eighty, and he’s still running for office?

Isn’t there anyone else in America?

Chris had zero interest in this, so he switched the TV to HBO. Now that was exciting.

Where’s my soul-nurturing lamp?

He suddenly remembered the soul-nurturing lamp and quickly stood up.

He took the elevator down to the second-floor funeral room. Chris immediately spotted the soul-nurturing lamp sitting on the funeral table.

He reached out to pick it up, then suddenly stopped.

Something’s off!

Chris keenly sensed that a trace of spiritual energy had appeared inside the soul-nurturing lamp.

It was very faint and quite unstable.

He quickly picked up the lamp, closed his eyes, and focused.

No doubt about it—there really was a trace of spiritual energy in the lamp!

It wasn’t as pure as the spiritual energy in his own body—much more mixed—but it was definitely real.

He’d checked last night, and there hadn’t been a trace of spiritual energy in the lamp. He’d even double-checked this morning.

So where did this spiritual energy come from?

Chris was both puzzled and excited.

He was puzzled because he didn’t know the source of the energy; excited because it meant there was still spiritual energy in this world.

As long as he could find the source, he could start cultivating again.

Thinking of this, Chris looked around the funeral room once more.

When he’d come here during the day, there was definitely no spiritual energy in the lamp. He’d left it here, and now there was a trace of energy.

That meant there was something wrong with this room!

He hesitated for a moment, then used up a sliver of his own spiritual energy, formed a secret hand sign, and brushed his brow.

Secret Art: Spirit Eye

The whole world instantly lost its original colors, leaving only black and white.

He discovered that in this room, wisps of tiny, tadpole-like energy floated in the air.

There wasn’t much of this energy, and it was very well hidden.