Chapter 28: Do Ghosts Get Collected Too?

“Oh? Boss, come to support my business again? What’re you buying today? Or got questions?”

When Jiu Gu saw Feng Xue walk in with a large pack on his back, her eyes lit up instantly, and she rose to greet him.

Though her shop was an old-established name, ever since that foreign monk came, the wealthy in the county preferred hiring him for Western funerals, and her business plummeted—had it not been for the annual Qingming offerings of gold ingots and paper effigies, her shop might not have survived.

So when a gold mine finally appeared, how could she not treat him well?

Seeing Jiu Gu hurrying over with tiny steps, Feng Xue remembered the rules: he stepped aside from the center of the doorway, entered sideways, then politely greeted her:

“Good morning, Jiu Gu. I’m here about ghosts—you said you could sell them, right?”

“Ah, about ghosts?” Jiu Gu immediately straightened her demeanor, guiding Feng Xue to sit, pouring tea as she spoke:

“Ghosts aren’t rare, but suitable ones? Hard to find. First, tell me your needs.”

“Hmm, I thought you’d hand me a list to pick from!” Feng Xue gently stroked Liuyunxi on his finger, his gaze unconsciously sweeping toward the odd wooden statues enshrined before the eternal lamp and incense.

Noticing Feng Xue’s gaze, Jiu Gu instantly understood his thought, and spoke with solemn gravity:

“Master, you’ve misunderstood. When I say ‘sell,’ I mean selling information about ghosts—these ghosts I nurture are not for sale.”

Worried Feng Xue might press further, Jiu Gu paused briefly, then continued:

“These human-shaped statues are infant spirits—children who died before birth. Raising such spirits harms cosmic harmony; I only venerate them to soothe their bitterness. Unless someone seeking a child takes one home, come the fifteenth day of the seventh month, I send them into reincarnation.”

“These spirit tablets are for elderly locals with no family (Note ①). Without relatives, their burials were haphazard. The county paid to supply them with yearly incense and candles, so they won’t be bullied when lining up for reincarnation. Occasionally, neighbors ask them to descend and find lost loved ones.”

“As for these odd-shaped ones, they’re spirits tied to disturbances nearby—most have taken lives. Some I captured, some Master Qian caught, others were sealed by past masters. They’re held here under the ancestral master’s power and the county’s incense, until their resentment fades and they may re-enter reincarnation.”

With that, Jiu Gu poured the tea into three cups, placing one before the only tablet in the center hall, covered by a shrine, then pushed another toward Feng Xue.

Feng Xue held the cup but did not drink, only said:

“Then what kind of information do you sell? If you know ghosts exist, why not capture them?”

Hearing this, Jiu Gu was slightly surprised, but quickly recovered, assuming Feng Xue was a spoiled heir who’d picked up a few scraps of knowledge and was now wandering recklessly. She condensed her words and explained:

“Ghosts are common enough, but most enter the Underworld directly, live there awhile, and gradually shed their attachments—only then can they reincarnate unburdened. Some, however, lived virtuous lives or have worthy descendants whose earthly incense never fades; they may cultivate a yin spirit and stay in the Underworld as minor officials.”

“The ghosts we usually mean as lingering in the mortal realm? Most died with overwhelming attachments—too heavy to even reach the Underworld. They’re called lost souls and wandering spirits. Usually harmless, they drift awhile until their attachments fade and they descend. Only a few survive by absorbing offerings or terrifying people to harvest wish-energy.”

“But isn’t it true that ghosts who’ve killed can’t be tamed?” Feng Xue frowned, suspecting Jiu Gu’s Ghost-Taming Manual might be flawed.

Jiu Gu merely shook her head:

“Not that they can’t be tamed—but they can’t be tamed well. Think of it: if you just want to guard your home or hunt occasionally, would you raise a dog—or capture a bloodthirsty tiger? The tiger’s stronger, but how much effort to tame it? Will it truly obey you—or bite you when you’re weak?”

“Ghost-taming is merely a spell for daily convenience. If you want combat arts, I advise finding a proper master. No one wants to bear such karmic debt.”

Hearing this, Feng Xue nodded, understanding, then continued:

“Then where do the ghosts you recommend come from?”

“From other collectors.”

Feng Xue had thought his imagined “ghost donation” was absurd enough—never expected Jiu Gu to say something even more outrageous.

Seeing Feng Xue’s expression—“Are you kidding me?”—Jiu Gu blinked helplessly:

“New cultivators studying ghost-taming usually inherit ghosts raised by elders. For someone like you, a self-taught outsider, without using cruel methods, there are only two sources—

“One: wild deities. These are lost souls that accidentally absorbed offerings, forgot their original identities, and came to believe they’re gods—yet hold no official Underworld rank. We call them wild deities or spirits. For example: a corpse left by the roadside, buried kindly by someone who lit a few incense sticks. Someone spread the tale it protects travelers, so passersby bow to it. Over time, it truly believes it’s a road god. Such wild deities have no Underworld sanction and no real power; their offerings fade easily. The ghosts prepared for apprentices are usually raised this way.”

“The second is what I call collected ghosts. They were once nobles or artisans in life; after death, their spirits cling to cherished possessions. These objects often hold great value and change hands. During transfer, the spirit absorbs the owner’s affection—generating wish-energy that sustains it. If it absorbs malice, it becomes a cursed object: whoever keeps it suffers misfortune.”

“Some cultivators specialize in collecting such antiques. Any object haunted by a spirit holds value—buying one guarantees profit. They hoard them without playing with or venerating them; the spirit slowly dissipates, leaving only a pure wish-energy husk. This husk resembles a phantom spirit but is weaker—ordinary people can wield it.”

“Thus, they profit from antique hunting, gain fame for exorcising spirits, earn merit by preventing ghostly harm, and accrue virtue by guiding ghosts into reincarnation. Finally, they sell the wish-energy husks to newcomers like you who lack ghosts. But this trade demands vast wealth and long years—only old-established shops can afford it.”

“These husks are low-risk, have pleasant forms, and gentle temperaments—perfect for newcomers like you. As for drawbacks… well, there are some—but they shouldn’t matter to you.”

“Oh?” Feng Xue, sensing Jiu Gu was teasing, immediately reached into his robe and pulled out a gold coin, handing it over. Jiu Gu took it, pinched off a small piece, and returned it with a faint smile:

“The drawback? Naturally, it’s expensive. But you, a wealthy man, won’t care.”

Feng Xue laughed, then stated his requirements…

Note ①: Not referring to age, but to the deceased. In China, people avoid saying “death,” using phrases like “passed away” or “grew old.” In this kind of occult shop, the dead are called “elders.” Note that customs vary regionally; this is specific to this novel’s setting.

ps: Regarding the protagonist’s divine ability—no hidden foreshadowing, but too awkward to include in the main text, so just a brief mention.

In outcome: the protagonist’s “mouth-seal” granted only the first time consumed spiritual energy; afterward, the white snake borrowed counterfeit coins stamped by the protagonist’s divine ability (though they still work).

You can treat phrases like “mouth-seal granted” or “lucky break” as a pay-to-play online game with world-rules as its server. The protagonist, after playing once (or watching someone else play), can replicate the game’s source code and create a free version.

But this free version is offline, running only on a PC (specific target) as its server, with limited threads—so only one program can run at a time.

Since the replicated code is based on the PC, only games tied to universal traits like lifespan (which everyone has a client for) can run elsewhere. All others run only on the original PC that played first.

And because it’s offline, the game cannot be copied for others to play. Only when another person plays the paid version can the protagonist create a free version for them.

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(End of Chapter)