Every elite master capable of producing key spiritual items was a treasure not just to the SEIU, but to Chinese's entire cultivation world. Now that spiritual energy was in such short supply, Master Song's value had only grown.
Especially because her bowl-hugging paper servants had become increasingly prolific, producing faster than even Spirit-Nurturing Jade Orbs.
Though this astonishing production speed had raised some questions among other cultivators within the SEIU, any doubtful voices were quickly silenced by the chief. After all, the resentful aura in ghost zones across the country had been steadily declining. Master Song had rendered great service to both the nation and its people.
Her bowl-hugging paper servants were also a key reason why Chinese's cultivators were still ahead of their global counterparts. Protecting Master Song was therefore one of Zhao Huoyan's most important responsibilities as leader of the Lingcheng SEIU branch.
Her status as an elite master was known only to internal personnel, and it was precisely because she resided in Lingcheng that the local SEIU enjoyed a particularly elevated status. These thoughts flashed through Zhao Huoyan's mind as he picked up his phone and opened the photo that Master Song had just sent.
Thanks to Master Song and his own family background, Zhao Huoyan enjoyed fairly high clearance within the SEIU and knew many things the average cultivator did not. Yet even so, his eyes widened when he saw the contents of the photo.
He zoomed in on the image to get a clearer look at the inscription on the Spirit-Appraising Bronze Mirror.
Of course he recognized the mirror—it was the signature work of the newly promoted elite master, Yang Shuqin.
Every SEIU branch in the country had applied for one. While most were still on a long waitlist, Lingcheng's order had already entered production.
"Capable of absorbing spiritual energy from a distance…" Zhao Huoyan's eyes locked onto the phrase "from a distance." Wasn't this an upgraded version of the bowl-hugging paper servant?
But this time, it wasn't a little white paper man hugging a bowl.
It was a golden doll holding a treasure bowl.
And there was only one person in the country capable of quietly developing something like this and mass-producing it without triggering alarm.
The Spirit-Appraising Mirror never lied. In that moment, Zhao Huoyan immediately understood why Master Song's production rate had skyrocketed—she had nurtured this remarkable spiritual item.
And perhaps this also explained the long-worrying phenomenon of vanishing spiritual energy light points. If these Fortune Dolls really worked, could this ease the concern that Chinese's cultivators would start migrating abroad in large numbers?
Zhao Huoyan couldn't type fast enough. He dialed her number directly. "Master Song! What is this spiritual item called? How much does it cost? How long does it take to make one? How many do you have in stock?"
"I call it the Spirit-Gathering Fortune Doll. Thirty thousand contribution points each," Song Miaozhu replied calmly. "Right now, I have one hundred in stock. As soon as I finish registration, I'm going to list them on the SEIU app. At present, I can produce two a day without issue."
The point-spirit version of the bowl-hugging paper servant cost 6,000 contribution points each. The spiritual-item version used slightly more azure spiritual energy and took additional care in its appearance. Selling it at five times the price wasn't unreasonable.
She had named it the Spirit-Gathering Fortune Doll to distinguish it clearly from the bowl-hugging paper servant.
Zhao Huoyan 's thoughts raced.
One hundred already in storage. Two per day, consistently. And yet the method of spiritual item cultivation had only been developed recently. Most cultivators couldn't even stabilize one item in a week. How had she reached this level of production so fast?
He noted the discrepancy, but asked nothing.
Master Song was not someone who welcomed invasive questions. She had made that clear from the start.
Instead, he forced his tone into something brighter. "Perfect. I'll take care of the registration personally. This qualifies as a key-grade spiritual item. We'll fast-track the approval."
Zhao Huoyan wasn't naïve. He understood that something about her production method wasn't standard. The original bowl-hugging paper servant cost a fraction of the Fortune Doll's price and was already considered a rare-grade support tool. This new version was exponentially more effective. And somehow, she had scaled it.
But facts were facts.
Where other creators struggled, she delivered results.
There were whispers in the SEIU about missing light points—spots on the national spiritual map where ambient qi had been vanishing without explanation. Theories circulated about leaks, foreign saboteurs, even decaying cultivation arrays. But now, seeing this doll through the Spirit-Appraising Mirror, Zhao suddenly understood.
Maybe the Fortune Dolls weren't just absorbing energy. Maybe they were redirecting it.
If that was true, the implications were massive.
The fear that Chinese cultivators would begin migrating abroad in search of stable qi zones had plagued internal policy for months. If these Fortune Dolls could stabilize spiritual energy locally, it would change everything.
And Master Song had already produced a hundred.
Zhao Huoyan filed that thought away, knowing better than to act on it too openly.
Master Song had always maintained a cold distance from the SEIU, despite everything she had contributed. She didn't trust them. That hadn't changed.
Still, she had intervened when no one else could. Ghost Mountain. Sanyuan River. Shuangfeng Valley. All neutralized in silence. She never requested credit, never sought reward.
And besides, the Craftmaster Contract, witnessed by the Xiezhi Spirit Seal, was still in effect.
He had his suspicions, of course.
But he also had orders.
Whatever secrets she held, they weren't hurting anyone. Quite the opposite. The bureau could afford to turn a blind eye.
The registration could wait. "Are you available now?" he asked.
Song Miaozhu, meanwhile, had no idea she was being viewed through such a bizarre lens—that of some noble idealist. Great sense of duty?
She hadn't made the Fortune Dolls to sell. Not really.
They were tools. Amplifiers. Vessels that could carry more curse energy, more binding threads. With them, she could anchor a person's spirit, siphon their power, or drag them under before they realized it.
They were beautiful. Convenient.
Deadly.
She had expected Zhao Huoyan to ask about the suspiciously fast production rate.
After all, she had limited the bowl-hugging paper servant to just one per day, yet now she was churning out two Fortune Dolls daily. Anyone with eyes could tell something was off.
To her surprise, he didn't ask a single thing. He only wanted to get the registration done as fast as possible. She had planned to use that question to segue into revealing her own cultivation level and issue a subtle warning. That opportunity had vanished.
Somewhat regretfully, she said, "Sure, I'm available. I actually have something to report to the SEIU anyway. It's easier to explain face to face than to send a message to the main bureau's inbox."
Hearing this, Zhao Huoyan suddenly felt uneasy.
Every time Master Song said she had something to report, it was never anything small.
The first time, it was the announcement of spiritual revival. The second, the existence of the Underworld.
Each revelation had shaken the foundation of the bureau. He had a gut feeling that this one wouldn't be any less significant. He brushed the wood shavings off his clothes, took off his work apron, and left the carving workshop.
As he walked, he sent an urgent message to the SEIU director, notifying him of the Spirit-Gathering Fortune Doll, so that once the registration documents were submitted, they could be approved as a key spiritual item as quickly as possible.
Old Master Zhao, returning from the restroom, saw him in the hallway and frowned. "Xiao Zhao! Heading out again? This won't do! As the team leader, you can't afford to fall too far behind in cultivation, or the others will stop respecting your authority!"
"I know, but Master Song has something important that I need to handle personally. Once I get back, I'll lock myself in and train nonstop," Zhao Huoyan replied.
"Master Song? That girl from the Huai family? Is it good news or bad?" the old man asked, his tone suddenly serious.
"Good news!" Zhao answered without hesitation.
"Good. Then go on. Don't worry about the team, I'll watch over things with that woodcarver girl," the old man said, waving him off.
Zhao Huoyan paused. "…Right."
Being the old man's disciple, even if he had been more or less adopted into the role, had its challenges—his teacher's thoughts were just too easy to predict.
With a sigh, he left the office, grabbed the spiritual item registration forms and necessary gear, then drove off to Xiaozhu Mountain in Yuanshan Town.
Meanwhile, Song Miaozhu had already ordered her little paper servants to hide themselves. Now that she had spiritual-item-grade versions, even selling point-spirit ones openly wasn't a big deal anymore.
Still, good things had to be released gradually. For now, the Spirit-Gathering Fortune Doll alone was enough to bring in plenty of income.