Normal humans have white auras. Those with heavy contact with Celestials or gods, or carrying holy relics, glow gold. A lone soul shines blue. Sorcerers and other tainted beings radiate green. Xia Bing, as a Fox Demon, has a purple aura. And I, a Doom Dragon, emit black. But this red aura... forgive my limited knowledge—no precedent exists. I truly don’t know what it means, but it’s definitely not ordinary.

"Hey! Brooding like you’re constipated first thing? Spill your sad story and amuse me."

Tsk~ Shen Yufeng, already sharp-tongued this early... Right, he’s a Taoist Priest. He might have clues. (Sigh, my intel here is painfully shallow.)

"Old lecher, quick question: anything in this world that’s not human, not demon, not ghost, not immortal? (Excluding me.)"

"Not human, demon, ghost, or immortal? Hmm." Shen Yufeng stroked his chin, deep in thought. "Tricky. Even my grandpa hasn’t seen most supernatural stuff. But... yeah, one thing fits: the living dead. Taoist Path zombies. Folklore calls ’em ‘zongzi’."

Zombies? I’ve seen them in horror flicks—but that chubby middle-aged guy wasn’t dried-up or clawing people. Nope.

"Any other options?"

"Why so curious? Slim chance... but fine. Someone like you, who met a painting spirit, could encounter anything. Heads-up: movie zombies rot in yin-heavy graves. Real living dead? Scumbags stuff a corpse’s soul back in, burn paper dolls to trick underworld guards. King Yama’s ledger loses their name—they become immortal."

Whoa. So angel feathers are useless? I stared blankly at Shen Yufeng, speechless.

"Tsk, why gawk? I know what you’re thinking—but that’s shady Taoist tricks. Becoming living dead costs dearly. I wouldn’t know how anyway."

"What’s the cost?"

"Drinking blood. No sex with the opposite gender. Daily bribes to underworld messengers with hell money. Total hassle. Better to die and reincarnate. Especially if righteous folks like us spot you—we’ll exterminate you."

Turns out this world has sorcerer-like jobs too. I feigned panic, pointing at classmates: "So danger’s everywhere? He, she, or him could be living dead!"

"Pfft, not that easy. First, you must die full of rage—usually for revenge. Once avenged, you won’t want immortality. Eternal grudges? That’s a curse. Life’s exhausting enough. Don’t get your hopes up."

Hmm. This half-baked Taoist Priest lacks skills, but his logic rings true. As someone who’s lived, holding grudges or loneliness won’t bring joy—even with immortality.

But that smiling chubby guy... is he really living dead? What grudge drives him to target Shan Weihao’s dad? Shan’s dad couldn’t have wronged him—they were laughing together...

Damn it. What’s the reason?

"Ow! Damn—eraser? Who dares ambush me?!"

"Qiuyuchen? Everything okay?"

"Fine." Cute Teacher had already started class. I’d zoned out so hard I missed her entering.

The eraser had three ballpoint-pen words: "Dumb Goose Head!"

What the hell?! Who mocked me? Catch you, and you’re dead!

I glared around, hunting the culprit—but within five minutes, I was asleep. Woke up at noon.

Crap. Slipped into old habits again? At this rate, high school’ll pass in dreams.

"Hey, buddy! Got pineapple buns. Want one?"

I whistled, snatching the bun Shen Yufeng offered. "Ooh, thoughtful~ When’d you learn to please me? Still, I won’t ‘summon’ you tonight, Consort Shen." Rushed this morning—no lunchbox. Good thing Shen Yufeng knew his duty as a best friend.

He yanked back the bun I’d just unwrapped. "Skip it. I fought crowds for this, and you won’t even ‘touch my plaque’? Heartbreaking."

No way I’d lose near-food. Ignoring onlookers, I bit hard into the bun in his hand, refusing to let go. Outsiders would think we’re doing some weird feeding play.

"Hey! This is class! People’ll see!"

"Mmmph nngh mmph!" (So what if they see?)

Shen Yufeng, probably grossed out by the pose (food over reputation!), let go. I devoured the bun in seconds—wrapper and all. Starvation erases dignity.

"Why’s stingy you suddenly buying buns? Need a favor?"

"Well... yeah. Keep an eye on Xia Bing for me."

Xia Bing? What’s this old lecher scheming?

"You pervert! Get a spy cam for her house—I’ll just call the cops."

"We’re friends, right? One yes or no: help or not?"

"No. Scram!" Still hungry after one bun. Gotta raid the cafeteria for last servings.

Shen Yufeng grabbed my shoulder, blocking my exit.

"Seriously? Such a small ask! She’s your live-in cook—you see her daily. Just observe a little!"

Why dump this on me? And how’d he know Xia Bing cooks for me? I never told him.

"Fine, I’ll help—if you spill why."

"...Okay. I like her."

"Hah! Try fooling a two-year-old. Truth."

"Buddy, I’d tell you, but you might not handle it. Later. Just report anything weird she does."

I rolled my eyes, agreeing. Damn dog nose—he knows Xia Bing’s a Fox Demon... Heh. If I revealed I’m a Doom Dragon reincarnate, he’d be the one unhinged.

"Attention: Qiuyuchen, Shen Yufeng, and Xia Bing of Class 1-4, report to the Student Council President immediately. Repeat: Qiuyuchen, Shen Yufeng, Xia Bing..."

Old lecher, don’t stare. I don’t know why they called us—probably not punishment (mostly). Ugh, middle school mischief makes me flinch at every announcement. But Xia Bing’s included... so not a scolding session.

"You’re Qiuyuchen, Shen Yufeng, and Xia Bing? I’m Mo Bai, Student Council President. Did you submit this?"

A bespectacled, slender youth smiled politely—but his tone was firm. My gut said he wasn’t simple. (Only veteran schemers reach Student Council President.)

Mo Bai slid a file forward: "Club Application—Supernatural Research Club?"

Ah, club setup. I’d nearly forgotten. But why "Supernatural Research"? We applied for "Classical Literature Club"!

I shot Shen Yufeng a confused look. He mirrored my bewilderment. Only one culprit remained...

"‘Classical Literature Club’ sounds boring. No recruits. I picked this name to lure clueless freshmen."

I covered my eyes, cringing. Sister, even baiting recruits needs finesse. What if they quit? Will we swear Triad oaths to Guan Yu like Hung Hing gangs?

"Calm down. I called you to approve your club. A first-year wants to join. Sign here. Your clubroom is the far-right classroom on the third floor of the lab building."

A freshman joined our obviously scam-named club? My condolences to them.

Anyway, our Supernatural Research Club (aka Nap Club) was officially born.