When the voice of his deceased father comes from outside the door, Shen Lin realizes this isn’t an ordinary haunting. It’s an “anomalous contamination zone” with rules, intelligence, and a purpose.
And his only golden finger isn’t a System or magic. It’s the trade he’s practiced for ten years: structural reinforcement.
He uses grouting to seal cracks around a well, pours reinforced concrete to build an underground Great Wall, and boils an ancient heart deep in the mantle with high-temperature steam.
He can’t draw talismans or chant spells, but he can calculate rebar requirements, mix concrete, and operate drilling rigs.
This is a war between an engineer and ancient beings. The weapon isn’t a peachwood sword, but cement. The battlefield isn’t a Taoist temple, but a construction site. The strategy isn’t exorcism, but cutting off their blood supply, severing their breath, and sealing their roots.
It begins with a well in western Hunan and ends with an underground barrier stretching 3,200 kilometers.
Thirty-two people, twelve hundred people, three thousand people. They build their own boilers, lay their own pipes, and pour their own walls.
This isn’t cultivation. It’s infrastructure. Not magic, but engineering.
