Zhao Huoyan was livid. "You all better watch yourselves! Protecting Master Song is our duty as members of the Lingcheng SEIU. You'll get contribution points for going on this mission. Master Song owes you nothing."
"Yes, yes, Captain, of course," someone replied quickly. "We're just hoping to make a good impression..."
"If I catch anyone trying to pull favors or beg for spirit items while on duty, don't blame me for what happens next. You know what I'm capable of."
His words weren't idle. After yesterday's meeting and the online smear campaign, he was furious enough to take someone's head off.
~
Song Miaozhu focused calmly on her paper crafting. She'd already read the posts. She understood exactly what this was.
A ploy.
The SEIU headquarters had failed to bring her under control in their internal meeting. They had no legal basis to restrain her. So they turned to a different strategy—pressure her through public opinion, turn sentiment against her, erode her reputation until she was forced to "seek protection" or surrender influence in exchange for peace.
It wasn't subtle. It wasn't clever.
It was, however, predictable.
Ever since the spiritual resurgence became common knowledge, her courtyard on Xiaozhu Mountain had become a magnet. This morning, it began again.
The moment someone approached her gate, her paper servants detected it. She didn't bother lifting her head. But when the figure came within ten meters, the servants alerted her again.
It was an elderly man, probably in his late sixties or early seventies. His physical condition suggested he had never cultivated before.
There was no fear. Only curiosity.
When he knocked, she walked to the door and kept it shut.
"What is it?"
"Xiao Song, you home?" the old man wheezed. "It's me. I have something to say, open the door."
"I don't know you," she said flatly. "Say what you came to say through the door."
"What do you mean you don't know me? I'm Old Wang from the west alley. You used to call me Uncle Seventh when you were little! I've got asthma, can't stand too long. Just let me sit down."
Song Miaozhu thought it over. The name didn't ring a bell, and she didn't see how his asthma had anything to do with her. She was a woman living alone, not about to let random strangers into her home.
"If you're not going to say what you want, I'll be going back to my paper crafting."
"Paper crafting, yes! That's it! That Spirit-Gathering Doll that's blowing up online right now, you made that, didn't you? I came to buy one."
Ah, that explained it. So the townspeople had seen those posts too. Well, he was a local. She still had some stock left. No harm in selling a few and making some money. So she said, "Sure. That'll be 30,000 SEIU contribution points, or three million yuan per doll."
"What?! Three million?! Why not just rob people instead? The Song family's crafts used to be famous for quality and affordability, and now look at you. Charging that much for a few sheets of paper?"
"..."
There it was. The shift. She recognized it instantly.
This wasn't someone in distress. This wasn't even someone trying to negotiate.
It was bait.
And right on cue, he clutched his chest, staggered back, and collapsed with a thud.
Her paper servant caught every movement. No hesitation. No real fall. Controlled, staged. Well-rehearsed.
Then came the voice from the trees.
"Father! Are you alright?"
A young man ran up, supported the old man, began to shout in escalating panic. "Dad! Someone help! Master Song made my father collapse!"
And just like that, the rest emerged from the woods, the road, the slopes below. Half a dozen. Then a dozen. Then more.
"Old Wang's down!"
"It was her! Song Miaozhu did something!"
"Open the gate, girl! Face the consequences!"
Her paper servants watched as they fanned out, dramatic cries rising in sync. She saw the familiar sheen of lenses, the steady recording of phones.
It was a performance.
And she'd seen better ones.
She didn't open the gate. She didn't even raise her voice.
She just said, "There are surveillance cameras installed. Keep shouting, and I'll sue the lot of you for disturbing the peace and staging a public incident."
And then she walked away.
No matter how loud they yelled, she showed no intention of opening the door. After delivering her warning, she went back inside and let her paper servants keep an eye on things.
What she hadn't expected was that someone would film a clip of Old Wang's son crying and post it online.
People who had still been hesitating down at the foot of the mountain suddenly became bold, treating this like their moment to shine. They rushed uphill to "defend" the poor old man and his son.
When knocking didn't work, they brought ladders and tried to climb over the wall.
That's when her patience ended.
She gave a single command: "Paper Soldiers, deploy. Zero-One to Zero-Ten. Subdue."
The heavy wooden gate finally creaked open. People craned their necks to peek inside, only to be blocked by ten tall, muscular women in double topknots, looking as fierce as they were silent.
"Who are you people?! Where's Song?"
"Yeah! Get her out here to apologize!"
"And pay compensation!"
...
The Paper Soldiers looked human but were still just paper constructs. They couldn't speak or respond. They only followed the task their master had given them.
No questions asked, they began tying people up.
Crack.
One soldier moved, silent and efficient. If someone resisted, they got punched twice before being tied. If they ran, their legs got broken first. Many of those outside her gate were cultivators, but it made no difference. In under three minutes, they were strung up like sausages.
When she finally stepped out, the courtyard was silent.
She looked at the bruised faces and calmly said, "Compensation for disturbing my residence: 1,000 yuan each."
Someone sneered. "What do you think we are? Beggars? Give us a spirit doll and we'll call it even!"
Her eyes narrowed. "You owe me. Not the other way around. You, you, and you—10,000. You—30,000. You stirred this up, so you can pay more."
She singled out the cultivators in the group.
Ordinary people wouldn't care about her Spirit-Gathering Dolls. This mess was clearly stirred up by cultivators.
And if she was wrong? So what?
This was her territory. She caught them, she set the price.
"You're abusing public opinion! Do you still want to live in Yuanshan Town?"
"Fifty thousand."
"You can't do this! I've already sent this to the police—"
"One hundred thousand," she said. "And you can wait for them right here. You clearly haven't read the Cultivator Laws. You think this is extortion? Invasion of a cultivator's private residence is a crime. You're lucky I'm only charging you."
That shut them up.
This girl might look young, but she was ruthless.
Song Miaozhu didn't bother arguing further. She turned and went back inside, leaving two Paper Soldiers at the gate to prevent anyone from escaping.
People like these only backed off when taught a hard lesson. Be too soft, and they would only come back worse next time.
No need to dirty her hands fighting people who couldn't even bring out a single spiritual artifact. Taking their money was more practical.
When Zhao Huoyan and his group arrived in a rush, they saw a crowd down at the base of Little Bamboo Mountain, all pointing up and muttering.
They thought people were swarming the mountain.
But as they started driving up, they found the path completely clear.
"Are people behaving themselves now? Not even daring to go up Xiaozhu Mountain?"
"Most folks have taken the free foundation courses by now. They shouldn't still be scared off by outdated rules. And they came in numbers, too..."
"Wait, what's that over there?"
"Oh my god."
Lined up along the roadside outside the mountainside courtyard, a long row of people were kneeling, facing downhill.
They looked absolutely pitiful.