Just as the talisman was about to land squarely on the black-furred rat’s head—
The beast finally reacted.
Its head snapped down, shrinking into its chest like a turtle retreating into its shell.
But it was too late.
The talisman, imbued with Chen Huaian’s will, had already left his hand—slapping directly onto the black rat’s forehead.
And this entire scene was witnessed by the bearded man, who had just rushed into the far end of the corridor.
“F*ck! No—!”
His pupils contracted violently as a chill shot from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.
Too late.
Where the talisman met the monster’s forehead, a coin-sized orb of light flared to life—crackling arcs of lightning spinning wildly, the sound growing sharper, louder by the second.
The bearded man didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a dazed hotel waiter nearby and kicked open the door next to him, diving in with the man in tow.
Meanwhile—
Chen Huaian stared at the writhing ball of light on the black rat’s head. The smug grin on his face froze instantly.
“Nima—!”
BOOM!!
A thunderclap split the corridor in two—lightning ripping through the hallway like a divine punishment.
The entire hotel shook.
Inside the room fifty meters away, the bearded man stared wide-eyed at the shredded doorway. The door had been obliterated by the blast’s shockwave.
And that was fifty meters from the epicenter.
The corridor’s pipe-like structure made it even worse—like a cannon barrel. That talisman didn’t just kill—it annihilated.
“Sh*t… is Chen Huaian… dead?”
He cautiously poked his head out.
The hallway was choked with smoke, thick with the stench of ozone and charred wood. Several doors along the corridor had caught fire.
At the very end of the corridor—
Chen Huaian sat against the wall, head lowered, unmoving.
The suitcase and storage box, now scorched, had shielded his flank.
To the left of the box, blackened walls and a large splatter of burned flesh stretched across the floor.
To the right, the narrow two-meter stretch where Chen Huaian sat was untouched—like a small island of peace in a sea of destruction.
The power of that talisman… the bearded man was shaken to the core.
He rushed over, crouching beside Chen Huaian and reaching out to check if he was still breathing.
But before his fingers could reach Chen Huaian’s nose—
A charred black hand shot up and grabbed his wrist.
The bearded man froze.
The youth still sat slumped, head low… but his hand was scorched, still smoking.
Then—
A shaft of light fell across Chen Huaian’s handsome, soot-streaked face. The corners of his mouth curled upward in a crooked, wicked grin.
“Haha… HAHAHA! So that’s how it is… I’m not a cancer-cell superman…”
He lifted his head, grinning wide. Black smoke puffed from between his teeth.
“I’m… the King of Thunder and Lightning!”
Bearded man: “???”
Later…
Outside the hotel—now surrounded by flashing police lights and cordoned off by emergency responders.
Chen Huaian and the bearded man sat on the curb, watching cars and people pass by on the street.
The night air was cool. The bearded man lit a cigarette.
“Smoke?” he offered.
“No thanks.” Chen Huaian shook his head, still dazed.
His mind was buzzing with questions, and he knew only the uncle beside him could give him answers.
“So… I’m a resurrector?” He pointed to himself.
“That’s right.” The bearded man took a drag, exhaling a stream of smoke into the air. “Originally, I was still hesitating whether to tell you the truth about this world.”
“Why?”
“Because compared to other resurrectors and monsters, your physical body is… very weak.” He glanced at Chen Huaian’s skinny limbs. “But your resurrection ability—your potential—is undeniably powerful.”
“You mean… the talisman?” Chen Huaian looked down at his burned hand, still blackened from the explosion.
That thunder talisman had vaporized the black rat—yet he, who was at ground zero, only had a burned hand.
“Right. That talisman—where did it come from?”
“From a game on my phone.”
“Can I see it?”
“No one else can,” the bearded man said, shaking his head. “Only you can see that game interface. It’s not a normal app—it’s what we call a ‘companion spirit.’”
Chen Huaian blinked.
“Companion spirit…”
“It’s bound to you. No one else can see it, no one else can use it. That game is your unique spiritual object. And yours is rare—even among rare types. Most spiritual objects can be shared or understood. But yours is… completely locked down.”
Chen Huaian fell silent, piecing everything together.
So… it wasn’t the cancer?
From the beginning, he thought the changes in his body were because the cancer had mutated his cells… given him powers.
But now—
Everything pointed to something even more absurd.
A game on his phone.
A talisman system only he could see.
A monster-blasting lightning charm worth hundreds of thousands.
His life was far stranger than he ever imagined.
And yet…
It was just beginning.
Thinking back carefully, Chen Huaian realized—his life had only truly started to change after downloading that game: “Electronic Girlfriend.”
Without that game, he wouldn’t have climbed Mount Lu.
Without climbing Mount Lu, he wouldn’t have encountered so many strange opportunities.
Wasn’t this the butterfly effect?
The bearded man took a slow drag of his cigarette, then said calmly, “I once met a Resurrector with abilities very similar to yours. His initial rating was Class A—code name: [Magic Pen]. His companion spirit was, as you might guess, a pen.”
He paused meaningfully.
“Whatever he drew could become real. Of course, the more complex and powerful the creation, the higher the cost—sometimes even at the price of his own life.”
He turned his eyes to Chen Huaian—sharp, thoughtful, probing.
“And your talisman… that must have been created by your companion spirit too, right?”
Chen Huaian nodded slowly. That checked out.
From the talismans, to the mysterious storage bag, to the bracelet made of spirit stones, and even that inconspicuous little pot of spirit grass…
Everything had been delivered via the so-called “game courier.”
No matter how fast he dashed to the door, he never once caught the delivery person.
That’s because—there never was one.
These items weren’t sent—they were generated.
Created out of thin air.
All by the game—by his companion spirit.
The bearded man narrowed his eyes. “So… what price do you pay to make those talismans?”
There was a tension in his voice, subtle but present.
This wasn’t just curiosity—it was concern. This was crucial information.
The cost. The bearded man needed to know it.
Because it wasn’t just about Chen Huaian anymore. It was about what tier his resurrection ability fell into—and what it meant for the future of the Tianfu Demon Slaying Division.
But Chen Huaian didn’t answer right away.
He looked at the man. Looked deep into his eyes.
He hesitated.
What price?
If he answered honestly—that it only cost money—what would happen?
In a world where monsters roamed, and supernatural powers were reawakening…
Wouldn’t he become a living treasure chest?
If people knew his talismans only cost a few hundred bucks…
Wouldn’t that be like wearing a glowing sign over his head saying:
“Farm me for loot!”
Would they arrest him?
Experiment on him?
Keep him in a cage, forcing him to churn out talismans like a goose laying golden eggs?
Could he trust that this “companion spirit” was truly bound to him and no one else?
The bearded man said no one else could use it.
But how could he be sure?
The world was changing.
And people—especially desperate people—were more terrifying than monsters.
Chen Huaian had trusted before.
Trusted friends who betrayed him.
A girlfriend who left when things got hard.
College roommates who stole the aid meant for his survival.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
So, he looked the bearded man straight in the eye.
Calm. Steady. Without flinching.
“The price…”
He paused.
Then said, with absolute conviction:
“…is life.”
The cigarette between the bearded man’s fingers trembled slightly.
But he said nothing.
And in that silence—
A mutual understanding was born.
