Spirit-Touch Power

Ordinary blood replenishment only healed physical wounds. It could also restore the mind and soul, but only because blood itself was the essence of life. Even so, its effect was extremely limited—barely better than nothing.

After expending mental energy, what he needed most was rest and recovery. He meant rest for his soul, not his body.

He pondered the matter. Since his soul power had grown strong enough to produce perception, and that perception enhanced his ability to dispel the eerie female ghost within its range, could he harness that power and attach it directly to his fist?

The Kimono Ghost seemed to sense something was wrong. Wu Heng's punch and slap had made her feel threatened.

The female ghost actually released the ghostly hand gripping Wu Heng's neck and began clawing at his chest with nails stained by black blood.

A harsh, scraping sound rang out, like a knife being dragged across tough oxhide.

The Kimono Ghost's hand could actually pass straight through his clothes. The cloth armor beneath Wu Heng's casual jacket could withstand a point-blank shotgun blast, but not her ghostly hand. Thin streaks of blood appeared across his chest.

But the wounds healed again in the blink of an eye. The blood in the Life Box in his chest was constantly supplying his heart, keeping his body in a state of recovery.

The female ghost couldn't break through his skin at all.

Wu Heng simply stopped bothering with her. He stood still and focused, trying to control the perception extending a foot around him.

As he concentrated, his thoughts and mental focus building together, the perception slowly changed shape, like a golden bell turned upside down.

The golden bell formed by his perception gradually lifted from his feet and drew upward toward his torso. The perception around his upper body grew increasingly fine.

His perception now resembled a short vest. Wu Heng didn't stop; he continued compressing it and directed it toward his right arm.

The short vest formed by his perception changed again. Like a gel, it slowly flowed toward his right arm, gradually covering his fist and encasing his arm.

Ordinary people might not be able to see it, but from Wu Heng's perspective, the compressed perception shimmered as it clung tightly to his right arm.

His right arm now looked like a phantom mechanical limb, similar to Iron Man's right arm, or like the layer of energy that covered a character after they activated a move in an anime.

His perception was no longer a loose field enveloping the area. It had joined with his fist, turning into a lethal technique that could unleash a blow in tandem with his punching power.

"With this punch, I'll make you vanish without a trace!"

Wu Heng swung his fist, scattering the air with a whistle as he slammed it into the female ghost's pale, resentful face.

Pfft!

It felt like casually flicking ash off a cigarette.

The Kimono Ghost turned into a cloud of black mist. The mist seemed to have substance and scattered across the ground.

It struggled to gather itself and drifted toward the roadside. First, half a leg emerged; then half a head took shape, only to dissolve into mist again in an instant.

"You think you can come and go as you please?"

Wu Heng charged like a tiger, sweeping past the Black Shadow. His right fist completely obliterated the mist, and everything fell still.

He assessed himself. Those two punches had taken a heavy toll on his mental energy.

At his current mental strength, he could manage a hundred punches in a row at most. After that, he'd need a full day of rest to recover completely.

Wu Heng decided to call this compressed perception Spirit-Touch Power.

As the name suggested, it was a power that could touch spirits. But it was still very weak, rather like the qi-and-blood furnace in the novels of his previous life, which could scatter ordinary evil spirits. He still had to attack to disperse ordinary ghosts.

At night, the Heisong Street market was brightly lit, its rows of stalls filling the air with the aromas of all kinds of snacks. People wove between the stalls, smiling as they greeted one another respectfully, while children chased and played.

"Arigatou gozaimasu! Please come again!"

Behind a snack stall selling tempura and takoyaki, a pretty young woman in an apron bowed as she saw her customers off.

Wu Heng wore a brand-new black trench coat. He held a box of tempura in his left hand, with a bag of takoyaki hooked under his index finger, and kept strolling as he ate.

He still preferred trench coats. Their pockets were roomy enough to hide plenty of things, and they looked stylish.

The night market seemed prosperous, filled with laughter and cheer everywhere.

Yet Wu Heng could sense a numb, lifeless mood pervading the place. His powers of observation, far beyond those of ordinary people, let him see the obsessive madness hidden beneath everyone's fake smiles.

Wu Heng could only marvel that the people from this island nation who had managed to survive until now were truly lucky. This time, the world of the story was clearly filled with all kinds of eerie things.

He walked from one end of the street to the other and had already spotted three people who were clearly unwell: short of breath, weak in spirit, and looking like they'd been cursed and didn't have long to live. But he had no intention of getting involved.

None of it had anything to do with him, as long as it didn't come after him.

He'd eaten his fill and had his walk. Wu Heng decided he'd better put some distance between himself and the food street. He continued down the road for another five minutes, then headed for an inn called the Moriya Inn.

"Mr. Echizen, your lodging comes to 2,300 yen, with a 2,000-yen deposit. Here's your 700 yen in change."

"Here are your personal identification card and room key. Please keep them safe. Follow me."

The landlord, a tall, thin-faced man in his forties wearing a gray shirt, handed Wu Heng three coins and two cards, then turned and led the way.

The personal identification card served as his ID. The name on it was Echizen Genichiro.

Wu Heng took it and glanced at the room key: "Moriya Inn, Room 203."

He slipped it into his trench coat pocket and followed the middle-aged landlord up the stairs, along the narrow passage between the inner walls. It was less than a meter wide.

"Mr. Tanimoto from Room 203 left in such a hurry yesterday, he didn't even collect his deposit. The room just happened to be available today."

"Mr. Tanimoto was practically a regular. I'll return it to him when I see him next time. We run a business, so we have to keep our word."

"Mr. Echizen, this way, please!"

The landlord chatted casually as he walked up to the second floor. Then he bent forward slightly and gestured respectfully toward the left.

Wu Heng nodded and walked on.

"No, no, no. That's not right. Yes, that's the way—everything needs to be lined up neatly!"

As he passed Room 202, he saw a young man with a center part crouching in front of the shoe cabinet. Muttering to himself, he carefully lined up the wooden sandals on top of it, adjusting them until they were perfectly aligned. Only then did he let out a breath.

"Mr. Toyota, tidying your shoes? You're certainly meticulous!" the landlord greeted him.

"Hi, Mr. Landlord." Toyota raised his head and began to respond, but stopped halfway. The smile vanished from his face, and he stood up stiffly to approach the landlord.

"They have to be lined up properly. Why don't you pay attention to neatness, Mr. Landlord?"

Toyota reached out and smoothed the landlord's curled collar along its edge, arranging both sides until they were perfectly straight. Only then did he let out a breath of relief.

"Yes! I'm very sorry, Mr. Toyota. I'll make sure to keep things tidy next time."

The landlord bowed deeply in apology.

"Then I'll leave it to you." Toyota bowed in reply, then hurried back to shift the shoe rack, aligning its edge with the seam in the wooden wall. Only then did a satisfied smile appear on his face.

Wu Heng could tell he was just an ordinary man with a bit of an obsessive streak, so he paid him no mind and followed the landlord to Room 203.

"Oh, no, no, no! How did the floor get dirty again?"

After the two had passed, Toyota spotted the footprints Wu Heng's shoes had left. He excitedly grabbed a mop and cleaned them up at once.

The dark-red bedroom door opened onto a space divided into three sections by pale-yellow wooden partitions.

The innermost section was a tatami bedroom, while the outermost one even came equipped with household cooking utensils.