Chapter 29: I Am Not Cao Cao

Listening to the boss's tedious explanation, Feng Xue finally understood why the ghosts here could be dubbed "expensive" by Ninth Aunt.

After all, compared to the countless wandering souls you could summon with a wave of the hand from a mass grave, these artificially crafted lives, meticulously selected and tempered by time, were undeniably worth their price.

Not to mention they carried no karmic entanglements—controlling them wouldn't tarnish your moral virtue.

Seeing that Feng Xue seemed to understand, the boss knew he could raise the price—unlike the cheap, fleeting ghosts sold to wealthy young wastrels, this man clearly intended to buy a protective spirit ghost, and a ghost of this caliber was among the pricier ones in the spirit ghost market.

Getting someone to spend money is easy; getting them to spend it happily—and return for more—is another matter entirely, and that requires making them understand why the price is justified.

He walked to a shelf, pulled out a porcelain vase that looked unmistakably expensive, and said:

"I've talked so much and haven't even asked what kind of spirit ghost you need. If you're seeking a protective spirit, this one inside the vase is perfect—the vase itself came from the Song imperial court, said to have been a favorite of some empress. Now the spirit ghost within wears a ceremonial phoenix crown and robe; even if its original form wasn't truly an empress, centuries of devotion have gathered enough wish-energy that, with proper cultivation, it might even cultivate a trace of phoenix qi to draw the dragon qi of human destiny as your shield—truly excellent."

Feng Xue shook his head decisively. Though he wasn't short on money, the Song dynasty official kiln vase was terrifyingly expensive; as the boss reached for a blue-and-white piece, he hurriedly said:

"I don't have high demands for spirit ghosts. I'd prefer a cultured ghost—doesn't need to master everything, but at least know a bit of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Preferably quiet, not flashy. And finally, it must be able to eat…"

"Uh…?" The boss blinked, stunned by Feng Xue's request. "Sir, I understand the first part, but 'able to eat'…?"

"Hmm, the Cultivation Technique I practice excels in abundant primordial energy and enduring magical power," Feng Xue explained calmly. The boss was skeptical—primordial energy was still derived from human essence; no matter how abundant, wasting it made no sense. Was he worried the ghost would get too full?

But since it was the customer's request, a merchant had no grounds to argue. Spirit ghosts severed all karmic ties the moment their original bodies were liberated; even if this man later fed them human lives, it wouldn't implicate the shop. He might even profit later by charging for spirit exorcism.

After briefly sifting through his inventory, he moved a few steps to a shelf holding scroll paintings, took out three scrolls, and placed them on the central display table.

Feng Xue glanced at the scrolls and felt slightly reassured—this casual handling suggested they weren't ancient masterpieces.

The shopkeeper, unaware Feng Xue was still appraising, picked up one scroll, unrolled it, and said:

"As for talented women, aside from the 'female poet' we mentioned earlier, these three stand out. First, this one—the artist is unknown, but the figure depicted is a famed courtesan from a hundred years ago, admired by countless literati who wrote poems and painted her. This piece isn't the finest, but it just so happens to house a spirit ghost that absorbed generations of admirers' fantasies and yearnings for that beauty—she excels in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, and her appearance and figure are peerless."

Feng Xue looked at the woman in the painting and nodded inwardly. Unlike the many ancient paintings from his past life—though refined, often mismatched with modern aesthetics—this woman genuinely evoked elegance and beauty in him.

But the boss didn't stop. He unrolled another scroll—but this one wasn't a portrait; it was calligraphy. The script felt rigid, unmistakably not the work of a woman.

"This calligraphy is a rare authentic piece. Just the name 'Shen Xian' alone could fetch a fortune at the Weiguo Shufu Bi auction house. It was written by him in mourning his deceased wife, and the world…"

"Next one!" Feng Xue cut him off sharply—he had no interest in other people's wives, even if they were just AI simulations using their names.

"Oh, oh, I understand…," the boss nodded. Though spirit ghosts didn't actually have such preferences—even their appearance or gender could be altered with proper cultivation—he'd met traditional xuan cultivators before. He paused, then remembered he still had another spirit ghost that might suit. He swiftly rolled up the third scroll and pulled a brocade box from the corner.

"Historical famous talented women were either married or from the pleasure quarters—likely not to your taste. How about this one…"

The boss unrolled the scroll—it was a small ink-wash landscape. Yet the bold, unrestrained ink technique here felt restrained, almost awkward; even Feng Xue, not an expert, sensed something off.

Seeing Feng Xue frown, the boss tensed and quickly explained:

"This painting was done by the daughter of a former dynasty's chancellor. Her father lost the succession struggle, and this painting surfaced during the family's confiscation. The resentment here was shallow—I cleared it completely within two months of acquiring it. But the spirit ghost born from this painting is remarkably resilient. A hundred years later, it hasn't faded at all. Such cases usually mean the original owner's obsession transferred to the spirit ghost. These ghosts have greater spiritual potential and higher growth, but demand far more cultivation resources. Had you not specifically requested 'able to eat,' I'd never have recommended her."

As he spoke, the boss pointed at the scroll. Feng Xue initially saw only a dark ink blot—but when his over-the-shoulder vision and naked eye focused simultaneously, he noticed the blot twitched. Only then did Feng Xue realize something:

On this painting, he hadn't seen the spirit ghost's ethereal shadow, as he had with every other object in the room.

"You're right—it's the ink blot. I've thought it vanished several times, but upon closer look, she's still there, as if she's become part of the painting itself."

The boss then pulled from his pocket a single-lens, high-magnification jeweler's loupe—used only to inspect gems—and handed it to Feng Xue.

"Don't be fooled by her size—her figure and features are top-tier. Magnify it and you'll see!"

Feng Xue, listening to the boss's absurd words, took the loupe with a stiff face. As he focused, the tiny dot unfolded into a full form—she sat by the shore, her long hair loosely scattered beside her, merging with the ink strokes of the stream. In her tiny brows and eyes, he could discern a hint of sorrow.

He had to admit—he liked this type. He removed the loupe, adjusted his mood, and said:

"Give me a price."

Seeing Feng Xue satisfied, the boss felt a quiet thrill. Though not a major sale, clearing out stagnant inventory was always welcome.

Back then, he'd been inexperienced—thought any ghost-attached item must be valuable. He'd held onto this for nearly a century. Such works never fetched antique prices, no matter how long they sat. The brushwork was too poor to pass off as a master's authentic piece—not even a gullible fool would believe it. If the spirit ghost ever decided to leave, he'd lose everything.

Still, the price couldn't change. He mentally recalculated its original purchase cost, weighed his options, then named a figure:

"Sixty strings of cash, firm offer! The painting's a free gift, and I'll throw in a full set of accessories. How's that?"

The logic behind ghost-attached collectibles is simple.

After death, only those with strong attachments—hatred, love, rage, duty, etc. —can linger in the mortal realm. Such spirits cling to the objects tied to their obsession: near their enemies, their loved ones, or haunt a specific place as earthbound ghosts.

An object capable of housing a spirit must have been saturated with intense emotion during its owner's lifetime.

As for items already antiques, that's another matter—but even non-antique objects weren't ordinary. Even a lover's keepsake wouldn't be something obscure or unidentifiable. Thus, for an industry spanning centuries—or even millennia—what wasn't an antique then became one later.

But those familiar with the trade know: antiques are valuable only if they're intrinsically good. Something worthless a hundred years ago won't magically become valuable now. Misjudgments are common.

Many newcomers assume any ghost-attached item guarantees profit—and end up stuck with unsellable stock.

It's like in Hunter x Hunter, when Killua buys antiques with "Nen"—most earn a profit, but occasionally you get a passionate, talented but unknown artist's Copy.

Most collectors don't even know the item harbors a ghost. Yet their affection for the object, and their fantasies about its original owner—like "What a magnificent woman must have held this fan?"—still influence the spirit ghost. It's not necessary to believe the ghost *is* the original owner for such feelings to alter it.

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(End of Chapter)