Chapter Thirty-One: Nowhere to Run

“Mr. Shen, what a coincidence! My father just bought me a new apartment, and it turns out it’s right next to yours.”
Chen Mengchen looked at Shen Chang’an with a naive expression, as if fate had tied the two of them together.
Shen Chang’an’s mouth twitched. Was this what wealthy people were like? Couldn’t she come up with a better excuse? A “coincidental” new purchase, and it just happened to be a place with a history of trouble? Was she even sure that was her real father?
Shen Chang’an didn’t believe for a second that Chen Mengchen was unaware of the issues with apartments 901 and 902. He’d barely moved into 901 before she showed up—what kind of coincidence was that?
And besides, wasn’t it common for people like her to own plenty of properties? Did she have to live in every one she bought? Her timing was so obvious, it was almost laughable.
Thinking it over, Shen Chang’an decided he’d better be candid, lest there be misunderstandings in the future.
“There’s nothing possible between us.”
Chen Mengchen was momentarily stunned, looking at Shen Chang’an in surprise.
Still not giving up? Then he’d have to be even more blunt.
“I know I’m handsome, but it’s not my fault.”
Chen Mengchen: (shock)
He’d been so ruthless, and she still wouldn’t let it go?
“Forget it. I’m a man you’ll never have.”
Chen Mengchen: Get lost!
Furious, Chen Mengchen wanted to slap Shen Chang’an. Was she really just after his body? Well… actually, she was.
In any case, after leaving him with the blood of the mountain demon, Chen Mengchen stormed back next door, but not before inviting Shen Chang’an to dinner that evening.
Shen Chang’an intended to refuse, but the offer was too tempting. She actually let him choose whatever he wanted to eat, and as much as he liked!
In that moment, Shen Chang’an’s inner foodie blazed, and he forgot all about his resolve to keep his distance from Chen Mengchen.

But Chen Mengchen’s visit was not all banter; she did bring something useful.
After the mountain demon was taken away, just as Shen Chang’an expected, the incident didn’t cause much of a stir. According to Chen Mengchen, her father did assign some people to study the creature, but apparently, he wasn’t all that concerned about what might be discovered.
Shen Chang’an realized then that such monsters weren’t really rare in the present world. Take the mountain demon, for example—it was fast, but as long as you kept your distance, someone with a gun could easily kill it.
It seemed unlikely that truly powerful monsters existed here, and Shen Chang’an even suspected that there might not be anyone in the whole world with deeper magical power than himself.
He wasn’t joking. The spiritual energy in this world was only a tenth of what it was in the book’s world—and it wasn’t just a matter of quantity.
Because the energy was so diluted, its activity was terribly low.
Shen Chang’an had tried cultivating with the Shangqing Response Method, but unlike the book’s world, where there was at least some reaction, here there was nothing at all.
If not for the exceptional effectiveness of the Fasting and Nine Breaths techniques, he would hardly be able to absorb any spiritual energy at all.
Anyone able to use spiritual energy in this world was exceedingly rare, and martial arts masters had no hope of cultivating true qi.
In such circumstances, so-called cultivators and monsters were likely just legends. Someone with one or two extraordinary tricks would already be remarkable; someone like Shen Chang’an, whose magical power had transformed his body far beyond that of any athlete, would be impossible to find.
From this, Shen Chang’an inferred the official attitude was probably much like Chen Mengchen’s father: as long as you didn’t cause trouble, they couldn’t care less.
Even so, he had no intention of exposing himself. He’d rather live quietly and enjoy a long, peaceful life as an ordinary citizen. He couldn’t explain his powers anyway; if asked, he wouldn’t know what to say.
With these thoughts, Shen Chang’an glanced at the ghosts in his home. Yesterday, they’d been rampant, but after a whole day under the Suppressing Evil Talisman, their yin energy had dissipated considerably, and they looked utterly defeated.
Seeing this, Shen Chang’an put away the talisman. These ghosts hadn’t harmed anyone, and destroying them would be tantamount to murder.
“Come here, all of you.”
He called out, and the ghosts hurried over, lining up obediently, no longer the wild creatures they’d been the day before.
“Tell me, how did you end up staying here?”
“We were…well…”

“It’s because…”
“Well, actually…”
The ghosts all spoke at once, and Shen Chang’an’s head was spinning, but he managed to piece together their story.
Most of them were wrongful deaths, leaving behind a lingering resentment. Yet, according to the rules, their grievances weren’t deep, and they should have departed the living world after a short time.
But for some reason, apartment 901 was unusually saturated with yin energy and had a strange attraction, drawing these ghosts together.
Even so, the pull wasn’t strong—three years had passed, and only seven ghosts had gathered.
Shen Chang’an didn’t know feng shui, couldn’t read the flow of yin energy here, or understand why the place attracted ghosts. At least, with his magical power, he’d found no treasures hidden here—it was simply a peculiarity of the terrain.
“So, what do you all want? Should I recite a passage to help you reincarnate?”
The ghosts exchanged glances. After a long pause, the leader—a tall ghost named Qin, towering over the others—spoke up.
“Master Shen, there’s no reincarnation in this world.”
Shen Chang’an was about to complain about the “Master Shen” title, but the rest of Qin’s words took precedence.
“What did you say? No reincarnation? Then where do souls go after death?”
Xiaofen, the female ghost who jumped, snorted, “Where do they go? Either they linger like us, or else, poof—they’re gone.”
“Gone?” Shen Chang’an’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“Well…just…” Qin scratched his head, “One moment you’re here, then—gone. Nothing remains. No ghost messengers, no underworld, no reincarnation, nothing at all. When you’re dead, you’re simply dead…”
Shen Chang’an stood frozen. No reincarnation—where did souls come from, and where did they go?