[HOST INTEGRITY: 12%] [

LOCATION: WU RESIDENCE – REN’S BEDROOM]

[TIME: 8:00 AM]

The dawn light filtered through the blinds, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Ren Wu woke up feeling like he had been run over by a spectral train.

“Wake up, Warlord,” the System droned in his ear. “Your tenants are hungry, your bank account is negative, and your grandmother is currently staring at you like you are a failed experiment.”

Ren gasped, bolting upright. The movement sent a spike of white-hot agony through his left shoulder. “Ack—” He collapsed back onto the pillow, sweat instantly beading on his forehead. His left arm was immobilized in a heavy sling, smelling of herbal paste and antiseptic.

“Don’t move,” a voice said. Soft, but sharp as a razor.

Ren turned his head. His grandmother sat in the wooden chair beside his bed. She was peeling an apple. Shhk. Shhk. Shhk. The knife was old, the steel worn thin from decades of sharpening, but she handled it with the precision of a surgeon. One long, continuous ribbon of red peel curled away from the fruit, never breaking.

She didn’t look at him. She stared at the apple, her expression terrifyingly serene.

“Grandma,” Ren croaked. His throat felt like he had swallowed a desert. “I… I had a weird dream. I fell down the stairs at school and—”

Thwack. She didn’t slam the knife. She simply stopped peeling. The silence that followed was heavier than any shout. She slowly turned her eyes to him.

“Ren,” she said. “I changed your bandages. I saw the cut. That wasn’t a staircase. That was a cleaver.” She pointed the tip of the paring knife at him. “And you reek of unauthorized commerce, Ren. That is the scent of the Rust Belt.”

Ren swallowed hard. “It was… a really dirty staircase?”

Grandma sighed. She sliced a piece of apple and held it out to him. It wasn’t an offer; it was a command. “Eat. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Ren took the apple slice with his good hand. “How much do you know?” he whispered.

“I know enough,” she said, resuming her peeling. “I know that the Wu family has been hiding from the Underworld for two generations. We were the Jailers, Ren. We bound the spirits; we didn’t trade with them.”

She looked at the nightstand, where the heavy brass Tiger Seal sat wrapped in red silk—the same seal she had given him three nights ago. “I gave you that Seal to bind monsters, Ren. Not to franchise them.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Ren said, his voice gaining a bit of the Warlord’s edge. “The door was already rotting, Grandma. I just cleared the debris.”

“Is that what you call it?” She reached into the pocket of her cardigan. “Because the City calls it ‘Unlicensed Necromancy’.”

She pulled out a piece of grey, fibrous paper that smelled of ash. “This arrived this morning. By courier bat.”

[INVOICE #4092-B]

[TO: REN WU] [FROM: SECTOR 9 REAPER DIVISION]

[TOTAL DUE: 8,500 SPIRIT COINS]

[STATUS: PAID (VIA CIVIL ASSET FORFEITURE)]

“They drained the account,” Grandma said, her voice flat. “The University Fund. My retirement savings. The emergency cash. It’s all gone. They took every cent, converted it to Spirit Coins at a terrible exchange rate, and paid the fine.”

Ren stared at the paper. “I saved the city,” he muttered, outraged. “I stopped a rogue Warlock. I destroyed a zombie army!”

“You saved the mortar, but you broke the code,” Grandma deadpanned. “The City doesn’t send medals, Ren. They send invoices.”

She stood up, leaning heavily on her cane. She looked smaller than usual, but her shadow seemed to stretch across the room.

“The accounts are frozen. The pantry is bare. And thanks to your little display, every hungry ghost in a five-mile radius knows the ‘store’ is open.”

She walked to the door, then paused. Her hand rested on the doorknob, her knuckles white. “Fix it,” she commanded. “Emperor or peasant, the ledger balances the same. You dug this hole, Warlord. Fill it with gold.”

The door clicked shut.

Ren sat in silence. He looked at the invoice. Then he looked at the Tiger Seal. 8,500 Coins. That was a fortune.

He picked up his phone. He had 47 missed texts from Jian. Ren typed a single reply with his good hand.

To: Jian (The Wallet) Stop looking for jobs. Meet me at the property. We are going into Manufacturing.

[TIME: 10:00 AM]

[LOCATION: THE LAST STOP MEAT PACKING PLANT]

The dawn light did nothing to improve the look of the Last Stop Meat Packing Plant. If anything, the sun just highlighted the rust.

Ren stood in the center of the main factory floor, his breath misting in the freezing air. He was shivering. Not from fear, but because his body was currently operating at 12% integrity. His left arm was strapped tight to his chest in a sling, throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache that synced with his heartbeat.

“It’s a dump,” Jian said, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. He kicked a piece of loose concrete. “Ren, look at this place. We paid the government 8,500 coins for a pile of rust and a zoning violation. Dad drained the accounts. We aren’t just broke, Ren. We are mathematically at zero.”

Ren ignored him. He wasn’t looking at the cracked walls. He was looking at the overlay that only he could see.

“System,” Ren muttered. “Status Report.”

“Searching for dignity…” the System’s voice droned in his ear. “Error: Not found. Displaying tragic reality instead.”

Ren rolled his eyes. “Just show me the numbers.”

[HOST STATUS WINDOW]

Name: Ren Wu Class: Necromancer King (Sealed)

Level: 1 (Exp: 0/1000)

HP: 12/100 (CRITICAL)

Mana: 0 / 150 (Regenerating at 0.1/hour)

Strength: 0.8 (Child-like)

Agility: 0.9 (Sluggish)

Soul: ??? (Divine)

Assets: 0 Spirit Coins | 0 Karma

“You are one strong breeze away from a game over,” the System added helpfully. “I suggest you avoid stairs, heavy lifting, and emotional distress.”

“Shut up,” Ren snapped. He shifted his gaze to the factory itself.

[DOMAIN MANAGEMENT: ACTIVE]

[TARGET: LAST STOP FACTORY (LEVEL 1)]

[STATUS: CRITICAL / CONDEMNED]

Structural Integrity: 15%

Spiritual Density: Low (Leaking)

Current Tenants: 214 Vermin Spirits (Class: Pest)

Production Output: 0.00%

Ren looked around. To his Spirit Sight, the factory wasn’t empty. It was crawling. Hundreds of spectral rats, bloated roaches, and shadow-slugs covered the machinery. They were chewing on the spiritual wiring, fouling the air with their waste. They were the reason the spiritual density was leaking.

“Vermin,” Ren whispered. “They think this is a nest.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Tiger Seal.

“Ren?” Jian asked, stepping back. “What are you doing? You don’t have the mana to cast a banishment spell.”

“I don’t need mana for trash,” Ren said coldly. “I am the Landlord.”

He didn’t shout. He didn’t posture. He simply slammed the Tiger Seal onto the rusted railing of the walkway. CLANG.

He pushed his intent through the stone.

[AUTHORITY RELEASED]

A ripple of red energy swept through the factory floor. It wasn’t an attack; it was a command. It was the crushing weight of a King entering a room. The reaction was instant. The 214 Vermin Spirits froze. They stopped chewing. They stopped crawling. They looked at Ren with their beady, hollow eyes and felt a terror that transcended biology.

SCREE!

It was a mass exodus. The rats dissolved into smoke. The roaches scrambled through the cracks in reality to escape. The shadow-slugs evaporated. Within three seconds, the factory was empty. The oppressive heaviness in the air lifted.

[DOMAIN ALERT: PESTS CLEARED]

[AUTHORITY SUCCESSFUL]

[KARMA GAINED: +0 (TARGETS TOO WEAK)]

Ren swayed, gripping the railing. His vision blurred for a second. Even asserting dominance over bugs took a toll on his broken nerves. “Clean,” Ren wheezed, wiping a trickle of blood from his nose. “Now… we can work.”

[QUEST TRIGGERED: THE INDUSTRIALIST PATH (STEP 1)]

Objective: Generate 1000 Spirit Coins in Revenue.

Reward: [Blueprint: Soul-Stabilizing Spirit Incense]

“Revenue,” Ren muttered, staring at the quest. “I need a product. But I can’t make the product without the blueprint. And I can’t get the blueprint without revenue.”

“It’s a paradox,” Jian noted.

“No,” Ren said, adjusting his sling. “It’s an economy. We need two things, Jian. We need Spirit Coins to fix this factory and buy materials. And I need Karma to fix my body.”

He checked the Shop. [Minor Body Refinement Pill: 100 Karma].

“Can’t we just convert the Coins to Karma?” Jian asked.

[SYSTEM NOTICE: CURRENCY EXCHANGE]

Rate: 1 Spirit Coin = 10 Karma Points.

System Note: “Money cannot buy virtue. But it can buy a very expensive fake virtue. Highly inefficient. Do not recommend.”

“The exchange rate is garbage,” Ren said, closing the window. “If I want to walk without coughing blood, I have to earn Karma the hard way. Good deeds. Order. Cleaning up the mess.”

“So we need Coins for the business,” Jian summarized, “and Karma for your health. How do we get Karma if the factory is empty?”

Ren started walking toward the exit. “We go to a place where people are suffering.”

Jian blinked. “A hospital?”

Ren adjusted his hoodie. “No. High School.”

Northwood High was loud, smelly, and flooded with teenage angst. To Ren, it was a goldmine of negative emotion. He moved through the hallways, Jian trailing behind him like a nervous bodyguard.

“We need a target,” Ren whispered, scanning the crowd with [Spirit Sight]. “Small fries aren’t worth the effort. I need something substantial.”

They turned the corner near the Science Wing and stopped. A crowd of students was gathering near the janitor’s closet. They were whispering, looking uneasy.

“The door won’t open,” a girl said. “I heard crying inside.”

“It’s probably just stuck,” a jock laughed, kicking the door. THUD. “See? Jammed.”

Ren looked at the door. He saw what the students couldn’t. The door wasn’t jammed by a lock. It was being held shut by grey, sticky spectral hands.

[ENTITY DETECTED: BINDING SPIRIT (LEVEL 1)]

[ACTION: TRAPPING PREY]

Ren pushed through the crowd. “Excuse me. Move.”

“Watch it, cripple,” the jock sneered.

Ren ignored him. He placed his hand on the door. He could feel the coldness seeping through the wood. Inside, he could hear a girl sobbing, her voice muffled and panicked. “Let me out! Please!”

Ren looked at Jian. “Clear the crowd.”

Jian nodded, pushing his glasses up. “Okay, folks, nothing to see here! Maintenance issue! Gas leak! Very toxic, very smelly, please disperse!” Jian successfully shooed the students back a few feet.

Ren leaned close to the door. “Hey,” he said softly. “Open the door.”

HISSS. The spirit inside tightened its grip. The wood groaned.

Ren sighed. He pulled the Tiger Seal from his pocket. “I asked nicely.” He pressed the Seal against the doorframe.

[AUTHORITY: SUBMIT]

The grey hands clutching the door spasmed. They turned black, burned by the touch of the Warlord’s aura. The spirit shrieked—a sound like tearing metal—and recoiled, retreating deep into the shadows of the closet. CLICK. The latch released.

Ren pulled the door open. A girl stumbled out, tear-streaked and shaking. It was Sarah Miller from his history class. She fell to her knees, gasping for air. “It… it wouldn’t open,” she sobbed. “I was pushing, but it wouldn’t move.”

[QUEST: RESCUE THE TRAPPED]

[STATUS: COMPLETE] [REWARD: +10 KARMA]

Ren felt a warmth spread through his chest. The System counter ticked up. [CURRENT KARMA: 10/100]

“You’re okay,” Ren said, offering her his good hand. “Old latch. It sticks in the humidity.”

Sarah looked up at him. She didn’t see a Warlord. She just saw the quiet kid with the broken arm who had saved her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ren nodded. He looked at the closet. The Binding Spirit was gone, scattered by his Authority. He walked away, Jian falling into step beside him.

“Ten points,” Ren whispered. “Ninety to go.”

“That was Sarah Miller,” Jian hissed. “Her dad is on the school board. You just scored major social points.”

“I don’t care about social points,” Ren said, his eyes scanning the hallway for the next victim. “I care about the pills. Next target. Let’s find something bigger.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep