Song Miaozhu nodded. "That should be correct. However, I suggest you don't do woodcarving too close to Grandpa Zhao, especially not at the same time as him."
"Why not?" Zhao Mumu asked, puzzled.
"Spiritual energy has only just begun to revive, and there isn't much of it yet. Grandpa Zhao's side has a much stronger pull, which will inevitably affect yours to some extent," Song Miaozhu explained.
If Grandpa Zhao hadn't been carving at the same time, the spiritual energy particles drawn to Zhao Mumu might not have fully crossed the "barrier" into reality, but they certainly wouldn't have been as scarce as they were now.
When Song Miaozhu first started, she had only seen a single spiritual energy particle—but that was only because her Heavenly Eye hadn't fully opened yet, preventing her from seeing particles that hadn't truly crossed the "barrier."
From her observations, while spiritual energy drifted freely in the air, unless the attraction was strong enough, even if the particles gathered around someone, they couldn't be touched or absorbed.
Only those that came closer and emitted a more vivid, colorful glow could truly be absorbed.
It was as if they had broken through an invisible layer, becoming more tangible.
Song Miaozhu referred to this distinction as "breaking through the barrier."
Hearing this, the old man set down his carving knife. "Then I'll stop for now. Girl, you try again!"
Zhao Mumu nodded. This time, she quieted her mind and didn't think about spiritual energy at all. She focused solely on her carving knife and the wood in her hands, pouring her attention into every stroke.
After a while, the old man glanced at Song Miaozhu, silently seeking confirmation.
She gave him a small nod.
This time, it was indeed better than before.
Watching Zhao Mumu's skilled carving technique, Song Miaozhu found it strange.
Based on her own experience with paper offerings, and from observing Grandpa Zhao's wood carving, it seemed the ability to draw spiritual energy correlated with craftsmanship.
But she herself had only studied paper crafting seriously for a short time. Why was her ability to draw spiritual energy so much stronger than Zhao Mumu's?
Zhao Mumu had been learning woodcarving for years, and the doll she was carving was far more complex than folding paper ingots. Logically, it shouldn't be at this level. Yet, even after watching for nearly an hour, no more spiritual energy particles gathered.
As dusk fell, Zhao Mumu finally stopped after finishing most of the doll and asked Song Miaozhu about the situation.
"It's much better than before," Song Miaozhu said.
"Then I'll do my woodcarving in the studio from now on," Zhao Mumu decided.
"It's getting dark, that ghost..." Grandpa Zhao hesitated.
"I'll send him away!" Song Miaozhu took the rattan cane and headed to the studio where Zhu Dagui was.
"I'm leaving! I'm leaving!" With such a fierce presence here, there was no benefit in staying. Zhu Dagui didn't dare linger and quickly floated away as soon as he stepped outside.
Since it wasn't the Ghost Festival when the gates of the underworld were wide open, he had to return to where his ashes were kept to find his way back to the underworld. If he didn't hurry, he wouldn't make it before dawn and would suffer during the day.
Though it wasn't as bad as before—when ghosts couldn't hide anywhere except their graves in daylight without risking annihilation—yang energy still suppressed them. Lingering in the mortal world during the day would damage their ghostly bodies.
Especially since his underworld lifespan wasn't long, and his ghostly power was weak, the harm would be even worse.
"Is he gone?" Zhao Mumu stared at the empty road and asked Song Miaozhu.
"He's gone," she replied. "He probably won't dare come back."
That strike from the cane had been excruciating.
"Good! That's good!" Zhao Mumu shuddered with lingering fear. "Until we're strong enough to be impervious to ghosts, it's best not to run into them!"
Song Miaozhu nodded in agreement.
"Grandpa Zhao, Grandma Li has already reincarnated. You don't need to buy paper offerings from me for her anymore—she won't receive them. They'll only end up benefiting wandering ghosts like Zhu Dagui, and it might even tempt them to follow you home.
"With spiritual energy reviving, the restrictions on ghosts in the mortal world seem weaker than before. It's better to be cautious."
The old man understood the severity and even warned them in return:
"What happened today should stay between us. You two must be careful—don't speak of it casually. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed what Huaishui'er said. At best, people would laugh it off. At worst, they'd think we were mentally unstable.
If drawing spiritual energy is as simple as carving wood or folding paper, then there are bound to be others who can do it. Eventually, it will come to light. When it does, if we speak up then, we won't stand out."
"That's my plan too," Song Miaozhu said.
Announcing the revival of spiritual energy to the world now would only make people dismiss her as crazy!
The key issue was that she had no way to make those without the Heavenly Eye see ghosts—she had no proof. Revealing the Ghost Shop would only bring her harm, not benefit. After all, people resent inequality more than scarcity.
"Master, Miaozhu, don't worry!" Zhao Mumu puffed her chest confidently. "If anything happens, my family can definitely help!"
Song Miaozhu glanced at her. "So confident—seems like her background isn't simple either."
But she wasn't worried. As long as she stayed ahead in cultivation, even if something went wrong in the future, she wouldn't be powerless to handle it. Just the strange spiritual paper techniques in The Secret Art of Paper Crafting were enough to protect herself. Right now, the most important thing was to study hard and cultivate spiritual power.
She stayed at the carving shop for dinner, chatting with Grandpa Zhao and Mumu about theories and speculation on cultivation. Only after the long talk did she head home.
When she returned to the paper shop and opened the door, she was greeted by the little white cat crouched at the entrance.
The moment it saw her, it wound around her legs, meowing sweetly for attention. The plump little orange cat's tail stood straight up as it urgently tried to lead her toward the food bowl in the corner, its cries bordering on desperate. Coal Ball lurked in the shadows near the counter, watching stealthily.
Song Miaozhu picked up the affectionate Little Snowball and gave it a few vigorous strokes before checking the food bowls—sure enough, they were empty.
Little Goldie was the household's bottomless pit—even if it had just eaten, an empty bowl was an unbearable tragedy.
"All three bowls were bone-dry. No wonder the complaints were so loud."
She set Little Snowball down, grabbed the kibble from the shelf, and refilled all three bowls. She also gently picked up stealthy little Coal and placed it beside its dish. While the three kittens feasted, Song Miaozhu took the chance to pet them.
Born from the same litter, each kitten had their own unique mealtime style.
Little Goldie ate like a whirlwind—like it hadn't been fed in days. No matter how much Miaozhu petted it, its eyes remained fixed on the food.
Little Snowball responded to every gentle touch with soft hums of delight as it ate.
Little Coal, as always, ate with elegance—slow and unhurried. The more she petted it, the slower it ate.