Your family's old Ink Marker has become a spirit?!

Shen Le happily hugged the massive wooden chest and returned to the Old Mansion. He opened the chest and took out the tools one by one, laying them flat on a leather mat:

Large flat-mouth woodworking chisel, large beveled woodworking chisel, large shallow-round woodworking chisel, medium round-mouth woodworking chisel, deep round-mouth woodworking chisel, large triangular knife...

Medium-sized... small-sized...

Finishing flat knife, beveled knife, shallow-round knife, medium-round knife, deep-round knife, triangular knife...

Large, medium, and small 7-shaped chisels...

Universal carving knife with an outward-curving blade, trimming knife with a straight edge and curved back, curved knife with a spoon-shaped body...

Various planers of all shapes and sizes, saws, compasses, and specialized compasses...

Shen Le knew how to use some of them at a glance, while others left him completely baffled. However, every single tool had clearly been used for a long time; the wooden handles were polished to a glossy sheen, covered in a visible layer of patina.

Moreover, every tool was impeccably clean, with jet-black, gleaming blades that were sharp enough to reflect his own image. It was evident that the previous owner had cherished them deeply, regularly maintaining, wiping, and sharpening the edges.

I've hit the jackpot! Everything I needed just appeared. With this chest, he wouldn't need to buy any more woodworking tools for the Old Mansion renovation, aside from power tools!

Finally, Shen Le reached into a small, partitioned box in the corner of the chest and lifted out a...

"Is this an ink marker?"

Shen Le held the object in his hands, turning it over to inspect it.

The ink marker looked like a crouching lion. The lion's head was turned with its mouth open in a charming, naive expression, with curls of hair forming small flower shapes on its forehead.

Its three claws were planted on the ground, the muscle lines flowing and vivid, as if it were constantly coiled with energy, ready to spring up at any moment. Its right front paw was raised and extended backward, as if it were eager to bat at a silk ball.

In the center of the lion's back was a rectangular groove, the reservoir for the ink line. A hand crank passed through the groove to secure a roller, which was wound with a thick coil of string, deeply stained with ink.

At the end of the roller, the ink line passed through an open-mouthed square box, with a heavy plumb bob hanging from the bottom. On top of the plumb bob, there was actually an inlay... an inlay of...

"You've got to be kidding me!"

Shen Le lifted the plumb bob to examine it, shaking it, nearly cursing out loud. On top of such a tiny plumb bob, there was actually, incredibly, a thumb-sized wooden silk ball inlaid!

And it was a Devil's Work Ball, for heaven's sake! He poked it, and it moved inside—and it wasn't just one layer!

What kind of master craftsman made this?

Devil's Work Balls were top-tier ivory crafts!

With this level of skill, why waste it on an ink marker instead of making a display piece?!

He turned it over and over, scrutinizing the ink marker, feeling that it was somehow different from the other tools in the chest—and different from the other old items in the mansion, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Was it the material? These tools, while made of hardwood, were at most local varieties like pear wood, jujube wood, or elm wood—nothing like precious rosewood.

Or was it the age? These tools only dated back to the last century, perhaps even the latter half, unlike the furniture in the house, most of which was Ming Dynasty, with very few pieces from the Qing.

Or perhaps these tools were too grounded, too deeply involved in manual labor, and thus carried the simple, honest scent of the working people?

Shen Le flipped through them, unable to grasp the reason. Fortunately, he still had his trump card:

"Spirit Eye, activate! Copper Fragment, give me a boost—"

A surge of heat welled up.

It rose from his lower dantian, passed through the Mingmen, Yuzhen, and Baihui points, then descended to his upper and middle dantians before returning to the lower dantian.

After circulating twice, the heat condensed and surged into his eyes, and his vision instantly brightened. Shen Le calmed his mind and stared at the ink marker. Upon closer inspection, he finally saw the difference:

"Ah! So that's how it is..."

While he was preoccupied with the ink marker, another group was heading straight for it.

The police, having received the report, were exhausted from five fruitless trips to find the so-called zombie and had even received complaints. Returning to the station, the more they thought about it, the angrier they became, until one decided:

"Didn't they say there's a channel to report supernatural events? Report it to them!"

As for whether the professionals would actually engage in a battle of wits with a supernatural entity or just stage an episode of Into Science, that was another matter entirely.

Once the "zombie" incident was reported, it naturally fell into the hands of Gu Yulin and Zhang Bingxin, the two fellow disciples.

The poor, novice Maoshan Taoists were responsible for an area of six or seven hundred square kilometers, covering eight towns, three streets, and countless natural villages, running themselves ragged every day until their tongues were practically hanging out.

Recently, the Little Puppet had been touring primary and secondary schools, so Zhang Bingxin spent his days following the performance with instruments, continuously measuring energy fluctuations at the scene.

The mental health of students was a major issue. Although they had confirmed that the Little Puppet's energy was leaning toward the positive, what if it suddenly did something drastic?

That left Gu Yulin, the senior brother, to bear the brunt of the travel, constantly on the road.

One day it was mass deaths of chickens and ducks in one village, the next it was red water bubbling from a well in another, and the day after that, strange noises coming from houses in some town...

Over 95% were false alarms; they would go, confirm there were no abnormal energy fluctuations, and leave it to the local police. But they still had to go:

"What? A family reported that their house is covered in ink lines every day, suspecting a zombie? What a joke! If there really were a zombie, who would be the one snapping the ink lines to suppress it?"

Receiving the call, Gu Yulin sighed, called his junior brother who had finally finished monitoring the performance, and raced toward the house in the Fulu Street Lakeside Residential District. When they arrived, it was a rare sight indeed!

After so many days of empty runs, they had actually found an anomaly!

"This house... the energy field is quite unusual..."

The two brothers set down their instruments and exchanged a look.

Throughout the house, on the floors, walls, and ceilings, there were thin black lines everywhere. According to the homeowner, those were the lines left by the ink marker.

Around the edge of the bed, the dining area, and the sofa—places where the master and mistress of the house frequently spent their time—the density of the black lines was particularly striking. The edge of the bed had been marked so many times it looked almost like a blackboard.

"Aren't Ink Markers supposed to ward off evil? How did it end up like this?"

"Can't something that wards off evil be corrupted? Besides, Ink Markers are already black to begin with; they don't even need extra corruption!"

The senior brother retorted, holding his instrument as he walked another circle around the room.

Throughout the house, the energy readings on the walls, furniture, and appliances hovered between 3 and 10. This indicated they were either barely touched or only slightly tainted by anomalous forces, posing no real threat to human health.

The traces left by the ink lines, however, were severe. A single ink line fluctuated between 15 and 30, while areas where the lines were particularly concentrated could reach 50, 60, or even 80. Considering these were traces left behind by some kind of entity...

"By the way, didn't you have an old Ink Marker in your house? Where did that thing go?"

"What? You just sold it today?!"