Chapter 365: Blood Capital

The scythe and the singing machine both came from Feng's General Store; saying they were from the same place is perfectly accurate.

Huff~ huff~

The singing machine said slowly: "When I was at the general store, I didn't notice you—you must not have had spirit then."

The scythe replied: "I don't know what you mean by spirit, but I remember you—I remember the songs you sang back then."

Li Banfeng froze, then asked the singing machine: "So you had spirit already while you were at the general store?"

The singing machine fell silent for a moment, then said: "Oh, husband, I dare not claim to be well-traveled, but my eyesight is still decent."

When I was at Feng's General Store, I saw many strange things—if this scythe truly had spirit, I couldn't possibly have missed it.

Perhaps back then, it merely retained some memories—that's barely enough to call it spiritual energy. There's too much spiritual energy in this world.

Objects crafted with superb technique carry spiritual energy; things born of innate artistry carry spiritual energy too.

High-level painting cultivators imbue every painting they make with spiritual energy; even our projector's film reels carry spiritual energy.

Things with spiritual energy retain memory, but spiritual energy is vastly different from true spirit. This scythe's spirit is new—recently awakened—and I can't fathom where it came from."

"Wife, you just called her a self-born spirit—what exactly is a self-born spirit?"

"A self-born spirit is an object with spiritual energy that, through external spiritual nourishment, develops its own true spirit."

Under normal circumstances, self-born spirits are exceedingly rare—objects with spiritual energy encountering external spirit depends entirely on chance."

Even if such a chance occurs, if the spirit's nature clashes with the spiritual energy's nature, it won't become a self-born spirit—it may instead transform into a demonic entity due to spiritual conflict."

Li Banfeng listened intently; whenever his wife taught knowledge, her tone and posture always sent shivers through his heart.

His wife continued: "But within a dwelling cultivator's residence, self-born spirits aren't so rare—many dwelling spirits are born from the residence drawing upon the earth's spirit."

Yet our home has no foundation—it shouldn't be able to generate a dwelling spirit. So, husband, please pull out the oil brush first, let me catch my breath."

Li Banfeng closed the cabinet behind the machine and sat down seriously beside the singing machine.

The singing machine played a slow rhythm and sang softly: "If it wasn't born from the residence, then where did this spirit come from?"

The scythe hovered around Li Banfeng, seeming uneasy: "Li Lang, can you please stop talking about this with her? I don't want to hear these things about me."

She felt uneasy, yet couldn't say why.

She could speak, but couldn't articulate clearly.

That fits the traits of a self-born spirit.

Yet the singing machine still worried—if this spirit's origin was unknown, it might threaten Li Banfeng's life.

Should she seize the scythe first and examine it slowly?

The singing machine reconsidered—this approach was inappropriate.

This scythe is the husband's trusted weapon; if it truly gained a self-born spirit, it's a rare treasure. If I interrogate her harshly, I might damage her nature—and then she'd turn against the husband."

Let me probe her once more.

"Little Scythe, since we're family, we eat from the same pot—I'll grant you the flesh of that man."

The scythe glanced at the moving picture machine.

In the main chamber of the portable dwelling, seeing flesh, all magic treasures felt hunger—the scythe was no exception.

The singing machine encouraged: "Eat, little sister—this is good stuff. Everyone in this house knows it's good."

The scythe flew to the corpse and sliced its flesh once.

The moving picture machine trembled violently—the scythe slashed several times, wanting to eat but unsure how to begin.

The singing machine watched closely—this was a trait of self-born spirits; she hadn't yet learned such techniques.

But what if she was cunning, pretending to be confused?

After careful thought, the singing machine told Li Banfeng: "Husband, take the scythe with you. Teach her rules regularly—don't act unless necessary. In battle, teach her more skills."

Keeping a self-born spirit by its master's side is the best way to cultivate its nature.

As for combat power, Li Banfeng wasn't worried—today's performance showed the scythe had considerable battle experience.

The singing machine gently tapped the gourd with her needle: "Little sister, you've seen more—spend more effort teaching her, hand over fist."

The gourd understood: battle techniques didn't need teaching—this scythe had talent.

The singing machine wanted her to stay vigilant—to act against the scythe if necessary.

Li Banfeng looked at the peeled skin and said to the pendulum: "We need to make something good—there are many things I need your help with."

The pendulum was clever—he understood Li Banfeng's intent and gathered scraps of cloth and paper to stuff into the skin.

The singing machine said: "Oh, husband, are you using the Golden Chamber Conceals Beauty technique? His appearance? No matter how you shape him, he'll never be beautiful—and the result won't have combat power."

This is the difficulty of the Golden Chamber Conceals Beauty technique: the more beautiful the crafted form, the greater its combat power.

Li Banfeng's craftsmanship is poor—this made the Golden Chamber Conceals Beauty technique his weakest skill.

Besides, this moving picture machine's appearance is truly awful—no matter how skilled the hand, it can't be called beautiful.

Fortunately, Li Banfeng doesn't need him to fight—just being able to speak a few words is enough. After all, he's a seventh-layer dwelling cultivator—he should manage this much.

After over an hour of work, Li Banfeng left the portable dwelling and sprinted back to Heishipō.

Luo Zhengnan was frantic—seeing Li Banfeng unharmed, his heart finally calmed.

"Seventh Master, it's all my fault—I didn't think things through. Punish me however you wish!"

Li Banfeng waved his hand: "It's not your fault—Jiang Xiang's men prepared too thoroughly."

"I'll go to their hall tonight and draw them out. Help me—rescue the children."

…

Late at night, a fortune-teller hadn't packed up yet at the alley's mouth. Seeing the moving picture machine approach from afar, he whispered: "Old Mei, where's the cart?"

The moving picture machine replied: "Business is done. All settled."

"Where's the boss?"

"Waiting at the Great Warehouse. Six Warehouses, Five Depots—tell all our brothers to bring the children with them."

"Bring them too?" The fortune-teller was startled.

"It's the boss's order."

"What about the travel permits?"

"That's not our concern."

The moving picture machine gave no further explanation; the fortune-teller didn't dare delay—he hurried back to the hall.

Soon after, two men arrived at the hall and asked the moving picture machine: "Is the boss really ordering all brothers to go? Even the captains from other posts? Shouldn't we leave at least two to guard?"

The moving picture machine shook his head: "I don't know. What status do I have? The boss gave one order—I dare not ask more."

No one dared delay—they hurried to gather men. Fortunately, the Heishipō hall had few members to begin with.

The moving picture machine said: "I brought back five today—I'll take them to the Great Warehouse first."

He left, following protocol—no one suspected him.

Li Banfeng seized the chance to bring the skin back to the portable dwelling and sprinkled more blood on it.

This was a limitation of the Golden Chamber Conceals Beauty technique: blood must be sprinkled inside the dwelling to sustain the spirit.

A group of Jiang Xiang's disciples gathered the kidnapped children, bound their hands and feet, covered their eyes, stuffed rags in their mouths, and shoved them into a cart—all sent to the Great Warehouse.

At the entrance of the Six Warehouses, Five Depots, the moving picture machine stood guard, gesturing for them to hurry inside.

As Jiang Xiang's men lifted the children from the cart to unload them, the moving picture machine shook his head: "Leave them at the door—wait for the boss's order."

Everyone entered the Great Warehouse. The moving picture machine and Luo Zhengnan closed the door, barred it, and locked it.

The moving picture machine froze—he had exhausted his spirit; his mission was complete.

Luo Zhengnan waited at the door a moment, then saw blood seeping from the crack beneath it.

This blood would draw attention.

He gathered dirt and spread a layer beneath the door crack, covering the blood, then drove the cart to deliver the children to friends, returning each one home.

When Luo Zhengnan returned to the warehouse, Li Banfeng had already finished—every member of the Heishipō hall was gone, even the corpses vanished.

A few bloodstains remained. Luo Zhengnan said: "Seventh Master, leave this to me—I'll send someone to clean it up.

You hurry and pack—we must leave Heishipō quickly. I heard the border inspector just changed—this new one's temper is terrible. I suspect something big will happen in the next couple days."

Li Banfeng had already prepared: "Go straight to the train station tonight—return to Lǜshuǐ City."

Luo Zhengnan said: "Seventh Master, if you don't leave, I won't leave."

"You must go—you have urgent business," Li Banfeng said, handing him a roll of film. "Give this film to Ma Wu—hand it to him personally, and let no one else see it.

Tell him only he may view it—afterward, he'll know what to do."

Luo Zhengnan secured the film and hurried to Lǜshuǐ City.

Li Banfeng boarded a small train, sat by the window, and watched the scenery outside.

Passing a Jiang Xiang outpost, it was pitch black—everyone seemed gone—but Li Banfeng couldn't be sure if any had escaped.

Passing the Border Inspection Office, Li Banfeng lowered his hat brim.

He knew the Border Inspector would act—he wanted to see how much blood the inspector would spend for Jiang Xiang.

PS: Blood capital means capital made of blood.

(End of chapter)