Chapter 47: I

As that cool yet softly sweet voice shouted in anger, Feng Xue’s eyes lit up.

If I’d stayed inside the painting, manipulating that ink dot would’ve been tricky—but since I’m out now, isn’t this just like catching an ordinary ghost?

The body pressing down hadn’t stopped, but the seal’s direction had shifted slightly.

The spirit ghost inside the painting had just sighed in relief—until Feng Xue slammed the seal onto her “forehead.”

A snowflake-like mark, infused with Feng Xue’s magical energy bound by a vow contract, flowed into the spirit ghost’s body; Feng Xue shifted his spiritual perception, not much, but enough to extract the primordial qi saturating the altar’s surroundings.

Ghosts instinctively absorb surrounding primordial qi—not like breathing, which can be held, but like cells that automatically draw in water through osmosis, impossible to suppress.

Primordial qi, magical energy, and vow power entwined and fused into one within the spirit ghost’s “body.”

That phrasing isn’t quite accurate, though—because a spirit ghost is, at its core, merely a conscious aggregate of vow power.

Even if it develops sentience, this essence cannot change until it reaches the realm of old yin giving birth to young yang.

Feng Xue’s magical mark spread like milk poured into coffee, slowly blending, and with that faint harmony, the spirit ghost finally sensed something was wrong.

But at this moment, any struggle was already too late!

“Take ink as your surname, I bestow upon you the name Ying. Do as I command, act at once. Those who defy my orders shall be cut to dust. Answer my call, aid my rites. Haste, as the law commands!”

As the incantation “Haste, as the law commands” left his lips, the vow contract woven from vow power seemed to solidify; Feng Xue felt his magical energy spontaneously coalesce into a specific structure, tracing a subtle pattern within the spirit ghost’s body.

The spirit ghost was still struggling, shouting, “Who gave you the right to name me!”—Feng Xue narrowed his eyes and sneered:

“Don’t like it? Fine, I’ll change it. Dog Dan? Lai Fu? Hmm, you’re a girl, though—Chun Ni’er how about that?”

“Shhh!”

As Feng Xue pretended to pick up his brush, the mochi-like spirit ghost suddenly shuddered, her resistance weakening—this moment of hesitation sealed her fate; the vow-powered ropes tightened like tortoise shells, binding her fast. Feng Xue nodded in satisfaction, retracted his magical energy, and pressed the seal again onto the snowflake mark on her forehead.

The two marks overlapped; Feng Xue used the seal as a brush, dragging the imprint across her soul-body to leave the characters “Mo Ying.” Luckily it was handwritten—if he’d used pure magical energy, this complex name would’ve turned into a messy blob.

Once the strokes were complete, the once-mochi-like soul-body suddenly contracted, transforming back into the cold, detached figure Feng Xue had seen in the painting.

“Are you insane?!”

“Yes, yes!” Liu Yunxi, who had woken from her cultivation due to the primordial qi disturbance, peeked from behind the door, nodding eagerly—but Feng Xue raised an eyebrow and said:

“What? You don’t like the name Mo Ying?”

“Of course not… well, okay, it’s actually kind of fitting, but I had a name… wait? Oh right, Bai Li was that guy’s name… I never had one… but that’s not your excuse to name me however you want! And don’t just stamp random paintings!”

Admittedly, though this ghost seemed a bit dim, at least she was honest.

Feng Xue was pleased the ghost understood his naming taste, and nodded:

“If you behave, I won’t stamp randomly.”

“What do you mean ‘behave’? What exactly are you ordering me to do?” The ghost stepped back half a pace, her icy face now tinged with disdain.

Feng Xue paid no mind, pointing to the side:

“Bring me that cup of water.”

“You think you’re—” Before she finished, Mo Ying vanished in a flash, reappearing a moment later as a mochi ball wrapped around the cup, flying into Feng Xue’s hand.

“Not bad—but you didn’t activate the [Transfer] magical energy, so you can’t teleport items yet?” Feng Xue mused silently as he took the cup.

Though ghostly energy corrodes magical energy, conversely, ghosts are excellent vessels for it. As long as a Daoist transmits the proper magical energy to their cultivated ghost, they can use it as a conduit to instantly trigger many useful effects—like letting a ghost, normally incapable of physical interaction, fetch objects.

Ghosts also lower the entry barrier for many spells. Take the [Water-Walking Spell]: normally requiring extreme precision to form a magical layer between foot and water, granting buoyancy and rigidity to walk or even run on water. But with a ghost, you simply channel the appropriate magical energy into the ghost’s body and step on it to sprint across the surface—even, if your energy is strong enough, “Ride the Ghost to Fly” becomes possible.

As Feng Xue fantasized about “a hundred uses for ghosts,” the mochi-like Mo Ying was loudly protesting beside him. Seeing he ignored her, she opened her mouth and bit at his hand.

But without the master’s permission, a ghost cannot use the master’s magical energy—so this spirit ghost, who had just delivered tea, predictably passed straight through him.

Clearly shaken, Mo Ying twisted her form and slipped back into the painting, becoming a tiny ink dot, silent once more.

“Heh, now that you’ve accepted the [Vow Name], whether you obey is no longer your choice! Come!”

Feng Xue pointed—and the ink dot floated upward. Faintly, one could see a fairy-like girl straining to cling to a withered tree, resisting being dragged from the scroll.

But the Ghost-Subjugation Incantation was complete; this spirit ghost was now registered in the mortal realm’s spiritual mechanism, officially Feng Xue’s exclusive possession. If she’d been a living soul, forcing her would’ve incurred karmic debt—but she was born from pure vow power, nourished by his magical energy and primordial qi; how could she possibly resist?

A pair of elegantly curved legs were dragged out of the scroll, then half her torso pulled free.

“Don’t seal me! Don’t seal me! I don’t want to be sealed!”

The spirit ghost kicked her long legs wildly, screaming like a shut-in dragged from her room. Feng Xue chuckled, gathering magical energy in his hands—one gripping each ankle, the other cradling her slender waist—and smiled:

“If you won’t come out willingly, I can’t guarantee what happens next.”

“Shhh!”

The instant he spoke, the entire ghost shot out, her body—now imbued with the notion of “tangibility”—colliding directly into Feng Xue; the two tumbled together in a heap…

Note: “Ying” describes snowflakes falling, or snowflakes themselves. “Mo Ying” evokes the image of ink dots spreading like snowflakes in ink-wash painting—Feng Xue’s first impression of this spirit ghost (laughs).

By the way, “Star-Covered Snowflakes,” meaning tiny snowflakes drifting under the starry sky, is the standard description of “ying.”

PS1: I feel dialect suits her character better and feels more authentic, but I worry readers won’t understand, or audio narration will make it sound odd. Adding translations for every line is fine now, but once published, it’ll feel like padding. What do you think—dialect or standard Mandarin?

PS2: About whether cultivation can fuse jade pieces together—the answer is yes, but why doesn’t Nanshan Residence do it? Because it’s unnecessary. First, I’ve said the material is low-to-mid grade. Second, I’ve mentioned many times: before Dao initiation, a Daoist’s magical energy is extremely precious, so they won’t waste it doing this themselves.

It’s similar to D&D wizards losing experience when copying scrolls (haven’t played in a while, not sure if that’s still true)—in this world’s logic, it damages potential. So high-level wizards don’t copy spellbooks themselves; they outsource to apprentices. Apprentices suffer when copying scrolls, but they do it to improve their magical knowledge and learn spells from their master.

But this world is gentler: I give you the spell, whether you practice is up to you. If you practice, I sell you materials and take your byproducts at fair prices—everyone wins. If you don’t practice, you still owe me a favor—I never lose.

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(End of Chapter)