Chapter 23: Boss Is Generous!

Even with Feng Xue’s stout heart, the sight of it nearly made him miss a beat—this sudden change caught the attention of Jiu Gu, who gave him a knowing glance and smiled.

“Looks like you’re not as clueless as you claimed!”

“Heh…heh…” Feng Xue chuckled awkwardly, unable to answer, but he now understood—the manual was likely acquired through some method akin to the Five Ghosts’ Transport.

Yet even knowing that, the garishly colored cover of the manual made it hard to take seriously.

After all, a stitched-book cover in blue or earthy yellow was fine, even red for special cases—but seeing all three colors together inevitably gave off an unseemly vibe.

Still, Feng Xue knew not to dwell on appearances and focused instead on the text on the cover.

“Summoning Objects,” “Commanding Ghosts,” “Paper Cutting,” “Igniting Fire,” “Dream Incantation,” “Possessing the Staff,” “Divine Step,” “Ingestion,” “Slaying Demons,” “Walking on Water,” “Pouch Heaven,” “Purifying Dust.”

Twelve techniques total, each name concise—some obvious at a glance, others slightly abstract. Feng Xue scanned them quickly; aside from “Dream Incantation” and “Possessing the Staff,” whose meanings were unclear, the rest were mostly combat or defensive methods, with none for exorcising spirits. If Jiu Gu truly didn’t know, then techniques like “Invoking the Divine” or “Communicating with the Netherworld”—essential for any spirit medium—were also absent.

“So this is your core skill?” Feng Xue pondered, then understood—the techniques for combat and defense might seem more arcane to him, but for a professional, the skills that could be sold for payment were the true core.

“I’ll take them all!”

Feng Xue declared with great bravado. Jiu Gu’s eyes lit up instantly, and she raised a thumb.

“Big-hearted! Twelve manuals, twenty percent off is nine thousand six hundred wen—I’ll knock off the change. Just give me nine guan!”

“Easy enough. But Jiu Gu, I’d like to ask you something.” No sooner had Feng Xue spoken than Jiu Gu replied:

“Ask away!”

“I heard there’s a method to collect votive power and cultivate a phantom deity…”

“I can’t teach you that.” Before Feng Xue finished, Jiu Gu shook her head. The greedy expression vanished instantly, replaced by a rigid, statue-like solemnity. She offered no explanation—her demeanor implied: say another word, and you won’t be buying any of this.

Feng Xue didn’t press. He pulled out a gold bean.

“I don’t have that much cash on me. Do you take gold? If not, we can go to the money shop…”

“We take it! Of course we do!” Jiu Gu took the gold bean—about two qian—and weighed it, then pinched it with her fingers. Though gold was soft, her clean, swift snap off a piece still made Feng Xue blink—flexibility didn’t mean you could actually snap it off!

But Jiu Gu showed no such hesitation. She handed him the remaining sliver.

“I’m charging you one qian plus a bit extra. Want me to weigh it?”

“No need, no need.” Feng Xue’s gold beans were each exactly ten grams; compared to money shop rates, Jiu Gu was even undercharging.

Jiu Gu happily tucked the gold into her pouch, then glanced at Feng Xue as he stuffed the stacked manuals into his bag.

“I’ve sold you the techniques, but let me warn you—cultivation is a gradual process. Don’t rush. And don’t go chasing ghosts right after someone dies! That shortens your yin lifespan. If you need ghosts but don’t know where to find wild ones, come to me—I sell them at fair prices!”

“I’ll start learning first. If I need any, I’ll come.”

Feng Xue didn’t commit fully, only nodded with a smile, then rose and left the temple. He turned home to study. Compared to the hassle of buying furniture himself, the broker knew exactly where to source each item. No sooner had Feng Xue stepped through his door than the broker arrived with the bed and bedding he’d purchased.

He directed the men to set down the goods, settled the final payment, shut the door, then collapsed onto the not-very-comfortable sofa. He glanced at the unopened Western bedding.

“W-what?” The white snake sensed his gaze and asked nervously. Feng Xue’s lips curled. He didn’t answer directly, but asked:

“Want to become human?”

“Yes!” The white snake answered without hesitation—but immediately snapped alert and added:

“I won’t help you cultivate!”

“No need for that. Can you make a bed? Clean up the room.” Feng Xue spoke, then realized it might not make sense—the white snake might not even know how.

But the white snake, hearing his condition, brightened instantly.

“I’ve never done it, but I know roughly how! Don’t worry—I’ll do it well! Really!”

Watching the white snake eagerly volunteer like a maid, Feng Xue struggled to suppress his grin. Though he’d vaguely guessed that each time he sealed his mouth to her, she gained benefit, for him, who held the power of “One Word to Nullify Cultivation,” her strengthening only helped him.

“Since you’re so sincere, fine—I see you as human.” Feng Xue said proudly. Then he felt his arm grow heavy—and the white snake crashed onto him.

“Shit!”

Though he now had a warm, fragrant body pressed against him, Feng Xue felt no pleasure—the sudden weight exploded upon him, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs.

Fortunately, the white snake reacted faster than he did, springing up instantly. She glanced at him warily, saw he hadn’t recovered, and hurriedly blurted:

“I—I’ll go figure out how to make the bed!”

Saying that, the slender girl lifted a large chest that had required several men to carry, and dashed toward the master bedroom Feng Xue had chosen.

“….”

Feng Xue finally caught his breath, and couldn’t help but reflect:

“This body needs proper cultivation… Forget it. First, read the book. Read the book.”

He pulled out the manual he’d bought from Jiu Gu, didn’t pick, just grabbed one at random and opened it.

Compared to the straightforward simplicity of the earlier mortuary manual, this one struck Feng Xue as verbose—many points that could’ve been explained in one or two sentences were stretched into vague, repetitive prose, like a studio’s assembly-line text written by someone with a limited vocabulary.

Still, at least the words ultimately made sense. Paired with the crude but serviceable illustrations beside them, Feng Xue quickly grasped the ritual of the “Possessing the Staff” technique.

“Prepare a wooden staff. Pre-cast the spell. When injured within the spell’s duration, transfer the damage to the staff… Isn’t this just a substitute charm?”

Regarding the misunderstanding about helping me cultivate—I think it’s clearly written: it’s not that the protagonist didn’t realize, but that he simply didn’t care.

At first, due to the mouth-sealing experiments causing friction, the protagonist assumed the white snake’s non-cooperation was normal.

After entering the county, the protagonist acquired human cultivation techniques, lowering the white snake’s importance further. Though she refused to help, she still answered questions when asked, so the protagonist didn’t care what exactly she resisted.

So far, the protagonist has always viewed the white snake as a “tool.” He holds the power of “One Word to Nullify Cultivation” to control her, and he’s noticed her desires—so there’s no need to ask her about things she clearly doesn’t want. Just like a boss doesn’t care why an employee doesn’t want to work overtime. If the boss demands it, the employee has no choice but to comply.

PS: Regarding the stacking of mouth-sealing talents, it’s not actually overpowered—don’t worry about the system being broken.

Because it’s not a percentage increase—it’s a fixed value.

Early on, it stacks quickly because the base is small. For example, if the snake’s talent is 1, each mouth-seal adds 10 talent points: twice is 20, five times is 50—it seems like huge gains each time.

But as the number increases—say, talent reaches 100 or 1000—the value of each +10 becomes wildly diluted.

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(End of Chapter)