Shen Ge didn’t dwell on the topic of the haunted restroom, nor did he bother explaining his odd behavior.

Even if Cheng Shengnan and Xiao He spread rumors about his strange actions, it would all hinge on whether people actually believed in “ghost walls” in the first place.

This was the 21st century—even Taoist priests were busy selling glutinous rice stir-fry these days. Supernatural tales like “ghost walls” were nothing more than internet folklore, good for idle chatter over tea.

Ghosts?

A quick glance at one’s bank balance was scarier. Take funeral parlors, for example—jobs people once avoided like the plague now offered 500 bucks a day, with applicants scrambling to get in (and needing connections just to land an interview).

Bump that to 1,000 a day, and forget fear—workers would be shaking their clients awake for midnight small talk. At 5,000 a day, they’d be twerking with corpses during the witching hour.

Shen Ge had learned early on that there was only one kind of ghost that truly haunted people:

The ghost of poverty.

If the system hadn’t stopped him yesterday, he’d have marched straight into Tom’s Mall—if not to tango with the Tier-7 anomaly, then at least to milk the “Brave the Tier-7 Lair” mission dry.

After leaving work, Shen Ge hit a nearby convenience store, grabbing a box of instant noodles (assorted flavors), some “Thunder Bolt” soda knockoffs, and other essentials to complete his daily mission before heading home.

[Host’s courage and wit know no bounds! Venturing alone into the Eastern District—home to a Tier-7 anomaly—and returning unscathed after securing a week’s supplies! Reward: Double system points (x100) + Random F-grade supply item x1.]

[Claim rewards now?]

“No.”

Given the dazzling white flash that accompanied every reward extraction, Shen Ge would need a career change to stage magician if he wanted to explain it away.

As he entered his apartment complex, he looked around for Old Wang, the usual patrol guard. Instead, he spotted Zhang Wei, the new hire.

Shen Ge waved. “You’re on patrol today?”

“Yeah, weirdly enough. Old Wang was supposed to cover this week, but he called in sick.”

“Sick?”

“Surprising, right? Dude’s the department’s ‘model employee’—five years without a single sick day. Even the captain was shocked.”

Shen Ge frowned. Could Old Wang’s sudden absence be tied to his future identity as a Tier-5 anomaly?

Today’s office anomaly, “Immobility,” had also been a future Tier-5 entity—yet here it was, manifesting early as a Tier-1. If the same logic applied to Old Wang…

“Three heads, six arms… Is he turning into Nezha or something?” Shen Ge mused. Forget extra limbs—just sprouting one additional head would land the man in a government lab by sunrise.

Should I check on him?

The thought gave Shen Ge pause. Old Wang was a living person, not some stray cat or rat he could off without consequences.

In a city plastered with surveillance cameras and ever-advancing forensic tech, murderers rarely lasted 24 hours before getting invited for police-station tea.

(The ultra-wealthy, of course, played by different rules.)

As for having the system devour the corpse… Shen Ge smacked his own forehead, cutting off that line of thinking.

“Hah.”

He exhaled sharply, suddenly understanding those movie villains who sacrificed everything for power. The allure of strength was dangerously seductive.

It reminded him of a trending online poll:

“What would you do if you gained Superman’s powers?”

The top-voted answer:

Day 1: “I’ll be a hero, protecting world peace!”

Day 2: “I am Homelander.”

Day 3: “I don’t eat beef.”

Losing oneself to power was a terrifying prospect.

Through casual chatter with Zhang Wei, Shen Ge tried fishing for details about Old Wang’s recent health—but according to Zhang, aside from today’s absence, nothing seemed amiss.

Back home, Shen Ge stored his groceries beside three other boxes of instant noodles and several jugs of water, silently begging the system not to turn him into a doomsday prepper.

“System, claim rewards.”

[Drawing reward—]

[Success!]

[Obtained: Internal Injury Healing Pills x3 (F-grade)]

A small vial labeled “Yunnan Baiyao” materialized on the coffee table in a flash of light. Inside were three reddish pills.

[Internal Injury Healing Pills (F-grade): Rapidly heals non-fatal internal injuries. Effective against most moderate trauma. (Healing time: 10 seconds.)]

“Pair these with the wound patches, and I’ve got full coverage.”

Still, he wished he’d drawn something like “Mental Apples” to restore his dwindling sanity points. With “Immobility” draining his reserves so fast, he was practically a “count-in-seconds man” now.

After a moment’s thought, Shen Ge dumped his 3% free attribute points into Spirit. An extra 3 seconds of trait usage outweighed marginal gains in Strength or Agility for now.

“System, gacha roll.”

With his daily mission done, his points had topped 100 again. After today’s encounter with “Immobility,” Shen Ge was painfully aware of humanity’s fragility against anomalies. If he didn’t grow stronger while these things were still weak, he’d be cannon fodder later.

Training took time. For instant power-ups, only the gacha would do.

[Spend 100 system points for a roll?]

Though he only had one attempt this time, Shen Ge refused to skip the ritual. He fired up his computer, cued “God of Gamblers Entrance Theme,” and—

“Roll!”

[Drawing prize!]

[Ding!]

[Congratulations! Obtained: Free Attribute Points (3%).]

…Not the dreaded 1% minimum, but hardly exciting either.

Apparently, “God of Gamblers” wasn’t as lucky as “Good Fortune Comes.”

Shen Ge tossed the new points into Spirit and pulled up his stats:

[Shen Ge]

Rating: None

[Base Attributes]

* Strength: 90%

* Agility: 81%

* Constitution: 73%

* Spirit: 165%

[Traits]

* Silence: Enter a noiseless state. Costs 0.5% Spirit/sec. Stackable with other traits.

* Immobility:

 While motionless, manipulate shadows to restrain stationary targets (max range: 10m). Spirit cost varies by target tier/quantity/distance (10%-100%/sec).

[Skills] None

[System Points] 11

[Free Points] 0%

“Tch.” Shen Ge eyed his cleaver, wound patches, and pill bottle on the table. The latter two could be pocketed, but the cleaver?

“No inventory system? System, you’re embarrassingly low-tier.”

[Host must improve rating to unlock advanced functions.]

“Still Rating 0?”

Shen Ge’s brow furrowed. Two high-tier traits, yet no rating bump? That made no sense.

“System, re-evaluate my rating.”

[Assessing host status…]

[Result: Rating 0]

“I’ve got a Tier-4 AND Tier-5 trait. Still Rating 0?”

[Assessment confirmed.]

“Traits don’t count toward rating?”

[All combat-effective factors are considered: base stats, traits, equipment, carried items, etc.]

“Then why no upgrade?”

[Assessment confirmed.]

“System, sing me a Jay Chou song,” Shen Ge grumbled.

If traits factored into combat power, his Tier-4/5 abilities should’ve easily pushed him past Rating 1. But the system, lacking true sentience, couldn’t clarify.

“Maybe my base stats are still below par?” A glance at his phone showed it wasn’t even 8 PM yet.

Time to train.

He’d grind those stats to baseline if it killed him.

After a quick noodle dinner, Shen Ge started jogging around the complex. Two laps in, he remembered—Old Wang’s place was nearby.

Still uneasy about the guard’s situation, he detoured to Wang’s apartment and knocked.

The door opened to reveal Auntie Li, Wang’s wife, whom Shen Ge had met during neighborhood walks.

“Oh? Xiao Shen?” She blinked in surprise.

Shen Ge handed her a bag of apples (purchased en route). “Heard Uncle Wang was sick. Came to check on him.”

Auntie Li’s confusion deepened. “Sick? He said the company organized a trip—he’s off traveling for a few days.”

“…Huh?”

Traveling?