Chapter 32: Yangshou

Li Yi, wearing a human-skin mask, burst out of the small courtyard and swiftly navigated the narrow alleyways according to memory.

He left in such haste for two reasons: first, he did not want his master, Zhao Ge, to delay buying medicine for his illness by teaching him boxing; second, he wanted to find a way out of Ghost Street.

“The route is correct. It seems nothing has changed here.”

Li Yi turned left, then right, and soon emerged from the alley, returning to that eerie, gloomy street.

Around him, ghostly creatures and cold figures clad in funeral robes moved back and forth; this place was a peculiar nexus of yin and yang, where the dead of the netherworld wandered alongside living humans disguised as corpses, and no one could tell whether anything appearing on Ghost Street originated from the living world or the dead.

Just like Li Yi himself, who lived in a modern metropolis yet encountered Zhao Ge, a martial artist from ancient times.

Was it an illusion?

Or a collision between reality and another realm?

Li Yi did not know. All he wanted now was to buy the medicine for his master, repay the debt of life and martial instruction, and survive to return to Tianchang City.

He looked left and right.

At both ends of Ghost Street, mist stretched endlessly, its origins and destinations unknown.

“I should head back the way I came. Maybe there’s still a chance to find an exit,” Li Yi thought to himself.

Just as he stepped forward to act, hurried footsteps came from behind—Zhao Qian, Zhao Ge’s daughter, now dressed as a paper-girl spirit, rushed after him.

“Big Brother Yi, you don’t recognize medicine—I’ll come with you,” Zhao Qian whispered carefully.

“It’s too dangerous. You should stay with Master. I’ll go alone. I’m searching for a way home anyway—if you get lost on Ghost Street, you’re finished.” Li Yi tried to persuade Zhao Qian to return while he took the risk.

Zhao Qian said, “Father’s illness came because of me. If I don’t strive to repay my filial duty, I’ll never have peace of conscience. Big Brother Yi has only been your disciple for a day, yet he’s willing to risk his life—how can I, raised by Father for over ten years, fail to repay him? Am I no better than an animal?”

“Big Brother Yi, don’t argue anymore. Let’s go together.”

Seeing this, Li Yi stopped Quanzu and merely nodded: “Alright. Let’s move together. Stay cautious.”

“Mm.” Zhao Qian whispered in reply.

Immediately, the two entered Ghost Street and moved slowly along the path, threading through the strange crowd on either side.

“We only have half an hour. When time’s up, we must return to the courtyard, whether or not we’ve gotten the medicine—so don’t go far,” Zhao Qian whispered a reminder.

But the moment she spoke, the breath of a living person escaped her lips, immediately drawing attention from nearby ghostly entities.

Li Yi remembered how his master Zhao Ge had saved him earlier—he instantly clamped his hand over Zhao Qian’s nose and mouth and shushed her.

Zhao Qian instantly understood and held her breath, steadying her spirit.

Only when the cold, watching eyes around them faded did she slowly exhale.

“That was too close. Let’s get out of here before we’re noticed,” Li Yi finally lowered his hand and grabbed Zhao Qian’s arm, swiftly moving away from the area.

Zhao Qian, feeling Li Yi’s grip on her hand, felt her cheeks flush, a shy warmth rising in her heart.

Li Yi, however, paid no attention to such things. He pulled Zhao Qian through the strange, bizarre street, his eyes beneath the mask scanning the surroundings.

“The medicine Master Zhao Ge needs is called Coffin Lingzhi. The name suggests a special kind of lingzhi mushroom. Since it’s medicine, it must be sold in a pharmacy or by street vendors—I should look there, not wander aimlessly.”

Though he understood little of this place, he could still grasp basic meanings.

After walking a while.

Soon.

Li Yi halted as he passed a fork in the road, gazing down the side path—another peculiar street came into view.

This street was equally bustling, filled with people coming and going, and lined with unusual vendors selling all manner of goods. After observing, he realized that though these people appeared cold and eerie, they were in fact living humans like Zhao Ge and Zhao Qian, who had entered here through some means.

“Go inside and look—this must be a market.”

Without hesitation, Li Yi plunged into the unknown street.

His arrival immediately drew the attention of many vendors.

Though Li Yi wore a human-skin mask, it only fooled low-intelligence ghosts—living humans Yiyan recognized him as a normal person.

“Where did this fool come from? This disguise is too crude. Doesn’t he fear being targeted by fierce ghosts or yin soldiers?” Many vendors cast suspicious glances.

Li Yi, however, was ignorant and fearless. He whispered, “I don’t recognize Coffin Lingzhi. Zhao Girl, keep your eyes open—check these stalls. We need to find it fast.”

“Yes, Big Brother Yi,” Zhao Qian nodded slightly.

The two quickly began searching.

Li Yi saw many unbelievable things: neatly arranged human skulls, limbs of strange creatures, even paper dolls and paper clothes. Most disturbingly, some vendors displayed freshly dead corpses along the roadside for sale.

“They sell anything here,” he thought, stunned, feeling as if he’d stumbled into an illegal black market of the unknown.

After walking further.

Then, Zhao Qian suddenly gripped Li Yi’s arm, her emotions rising. She pointed to a nearby stall and whispered, “That’s the Coffin Lingzhi.”

Li Yi looked over.

The vendor was an old man with gray-white hair and a withered frame, seated cross-legged before his stall, radiating a deathly aura—anyone unfamiliar might mistake him for a long-dead mummy.

Yet on his stall lay several strange objects, one of which was a black, mushroom-like item—that was the Coffin Lingzhi Zhao Qian mentioned.

Li Yi immediately walked over, glanced around, then crouched down and pointed at the item: “Boss, how much for this Coffin Lingzhi?”

“Sixty.” A hoarse voice replied.

“So expensive?” Zhao Qian paled, her expression dazed.

“Zhao Qian, do you not have enough money? I’ll find a way to gather it,” Li Yi whispered, patting his body.

He carried only a smartphone—he didn’t know if these people from another world accepted it—and half a broken knife coin. This odd object was valuable; if Zhao Qian couldn’t pay, he’d have no choice but to sell it.

Though the odd object was precious, Zhao Ge had saved his life—Li Yi could not let his greed cause him to abandon a life.

“Big Brother Yi, goods on Ghost Street don’t accept silver or gold...” Zhao Qian hesitated, as if unable to speak the words.

Li Yi pressed: “If not silver or gold, then what?”

He observed his surroundings with every word, but the market seemed relatively safe—few ghosts lingered nearby, and even speaking didn’t draw attention.

“Yangshou,” the withered vendor suddenly replied.

“What? Lifespan can be bought and sold?” Li Yi was stunned.

The withered old man glanced at him, too bored to explain to an outsider.

Zhao Qian lowered her head helplessly: “My martial cultivation is low—I have only sixty years of yangshou. I’m sixteen now, so I have forty-four left. But this Coffin Lingzhi costs sixty—even if I spent all my yangshou, I couldn’t afford it...”

“How do you know your yangshou is only sixty?” Li Yi asked. “Most people have at least eighty or ninety.”

“Big Brother Yi, you don’t know—in Xingzhou, ordinary people live only about fifty years. After I began cultivation, my yangshou rose to sixty. Father, with his higher realm, has eighty.” Zhao Qian explained.

Li Yi finally understood.

This place truly was ancient.

Lifespans were short.

“If you can’t afford it, move away. Don’t loiter here,” the withered vendor rasped.

“Your Coffin Lingzhi is too expensive—it used to sell for fifteen.” Zhao Qian bit her lip.

The withered man snorted: “That’s ordinary Coffin Lingzhi. Mine comes from a thousand-year-old tomb—its effects are extraordinary, so naturally it’s expensive. And no haggling.”

“Big Brother Yi, let’s go look elsewhere,” Zhao Qian said, pulling Li Yi away.

Sixty years of yangshou—this price demanded a life. It was outright extortion.

But Li Yi didn’t move. He said: “Boss, if I buy it, how do I pay?”

“Sign with blood. Seven days from now, a debt-collecting ghost will come to claim your lifespan.” The old man pulled out a white talisman covered in unreadable script and pointed his finger at a blank spot on it.

“Just a fingerprint? So simple? What if you default?” Li Yi asked.

The withered man sneered: “If the debt-collecting ghost fails, yin soldiers come. If yin soldiers fail, yin generals come. If yin generals fail, yin gods descend to snatch your soul. Do you think you can escape?”

“Then I’m reassured. I’ll buy it.” Li Yi immediately waved his hand, ready to purchase.

What nonsense.

He was from Earth—why should he fear ghosts from another world coming to collect?

Get through today first.

“Big Brother Yi, don’t be impulsive! Sixty years of yangshou will kill you!” Zhao Qian panicked, grabbing his arm.

Li Yi said: “Don’t worry. I’m naturally hardy. Saving a life comes first. If we miss this chance, we may never find Coffin Lingzhi again—and we’re running out of time. Don’t Quanwo . Master saved my life. Buying this is my repayment.”

“Enough. It’s decided. Boss, sign the contract.”

Without hesitation, he shook off Zhao Qian, bit his finger, and prepared to sign.

“Signing is fine—but first, let me see how much yangshou you have left. I won’t make a losing deal.” The withered man blocked Li Yi’s hand and pulled out a device resembling a compass.

He seized Li Yi’s finger and pressed it onto the black disc.

“Don’t be nervous. This is the Shou Pan—it measures your yangshou.”

The needle on the disc wobbled, then settled on a number: One Hundred Fifty.

“One hundred fifty years? Such a long lifespan,” the withered man exclaimed in shock.

“Can I really live that long?” Li Yi stared at the disc, incredulous—could this thing truly measure human lifespan?

Yet cultivators, after physical evolution, could indeed live over a hundred years if free of illness or disaster.

But to these short-lived people of this realm, one hundred fifty was considered extraordinarily long.

“You’ve got plenty of capital. Sign,” the withered man chuckled strangely, handing Li Yi the white talisman.

Li Yi pressed his bloody finger down without hesitation, leaving a crimson print: “That’s enough?”

“Good. This item is yours.”

The withered man was surprisingly fair—he carefully tucked away the white talisman and handed over the Coffin Lingzhi, no trickery or betrayal.

Li Yi took it and immediately shoved it into Zhao Qian’s hands, finally feeling he’d repaid a debt.

“Big Brother Yi.”

Zhao Qian stared at the Coffin Lingzhi in her hand, speechless, tears welling in her eyes.

Sixty years of yangshou—given away so easily.

Even if his father had saved him and taught him martial arts, such repayment was too heavy.

Li Yi, however, seemed unconcerned and struck up a conversation with the shopkeeper: “Boss, can I ask you something?”

“Speak.”

The emaciated old man’s demeanor improved considerably—he had just made a big sale.

“I stumbled into Ghost Street by accident. Is there any way to leave here?” Li Yi asked.

The emaciated old man’s voice was hoarse: “You mean the way back is blocked? That’s not hard—buy this item, and you can return.”

He pointed to an object on the stall.

It was a small horse molded from clay.

“What is this?” Li Yi picked it up, examined it—it seemed ordinary.

“It’s a clay horse,” the emaciated old man snatched it from Li Yi’s hand, fearing the fool might drop and break it.

“Clay horse?” Li Yi stared at him in confusion.

“Yes, this is the clay horse.”

“How much for the clay horse?” Li Yi asked.

“The clay horse costs ten years of your lifespan,” the emaciated old man said.

“The clay horse is that expensive?” Li Yi said.

The emaciated old man’s face darkened instantly: “Buy it or don’t—don’t waste my time.”

Li Yi said: “If it were cheaper, I’d buy it—but your clay horse is too expensive.”

“Are you here to buy something, or to insult me?” The emaciated old man could barely contain himself.

“Didn’t you start by taking advantage of me? Why call it ‘clay horse’ of all things?” Li Yi said.

“......” The emaciated old man’s face twitched—he wanted to slap the fool dead.

“This item sells for ten years of lifespan. No haggling.”

He took several deep breaths to calm himself.

Li Yi said: “After I buy this, how do I use it?”

“Drip a few drops of blood on it—the clay... this horse will transform into a yin horse. Ride it, and it will carry you to the side of your closest kin. If you have no living relatives in the mortal world, then ignore what I just said,” the emaciated old man said.

“You’re the one without kin! Here, sign the contract,” Li Yi extended his finger.

Seeing this, the emaciated old man’s expression softened slightly. He pulled out a white talisman and handed it over.

Li Yi, already burdened with debts, signed without hesitation. Then he paused and pointed to another item: “I’ll take this clay horse too.”

“You’ve got plenty of lifespan—you can buy as many as you like,” the emaciated old man said.

“Better safe than sorry. Who knows when I might stumble back into Ghost Street?”

Li Yi signed again and walked away with two clay horses.