Chapter 342

(Friendly reminder: those with extremely vivid imaginations are advised not to read this chapter right before or after a meal.)

These people's identities were indeed remnant soldiers, coming from Lake City.

The origin of this city's name was very simple: because it was built beside a large lake, it was called "Lake City," very easy to understand.

Lake City had been at war with Iron City for some time, and had been beaten quite badly; these people, as defeated deserters, had fled.

They came to this abandoned manor estate, wanting to scavenge some good stuff.

Aside from the saber-wielding man named A Ping, none of them had any proper surname.

Apart from having practiced a few saber techniques in the past, he was just an ordinary person; the city's population itself wasn't large.

Farm tools could be used to plow fields and plant crops; when needed, they could also be used to wage war and kill people.

After A Ping learned Ao Yulie was not a ghost, he addressed him as "Master Exorcist."

Here, all sorts of bizarre "things" and events were collectively called ghosts; most people, upon encountering a "ghost," considered it lucky just to escape with their lives.

But there were also a small number of people who possessed extraordinary means, able to contend with ghosts, defeat and exorcise them.

These people were called Exorcists, the ruling class among humans, with inheritance passed down through bloodlines and skills.

The leaders of most cities and villages were Exorcist families, including the currently warring Iron City and Lake City.

The saber technique A Ping practiced was learned by his old man from a passing Exorcist, passed down to his son; the saber technique was quite superficial.

But even so, it made A Ping a notch above the bottom-rung soldiers, becoming a squad leader; the weapon in his hand was a proper weapon, a somewhat crudely made saber, but at least not a farm tool.

After Ao Yulie released him, A Ping's first move was to retrieve his own saber, carefully wiping it twice.

Now that his life was saved, the most important thing was the saber.

Seeing Tang Luo and Ao Yulie express neither agreement nor disagreement, he straightforwardly began searching the corpses of his companions, stuffing whatever messy things he could onto himself.

He even stripped off their clothes, the tattered "wooden armor," not caring about the bloodstains on top, and put them on himself.

After putting them on, movement became much more inconvenient, but judging by his appearance, he was clearly very happy.

"Let's go, take us to Lake City," Tang Luo said.

They planned to go to that Lake City to inquire about intelligence related to the Scripture Fetcher.

Regarding the Scripture Fetcher, the Western Pure Land — A Ping had a completely blank look; perhaps Exorcists knew something.

Before obtaining sufficient intelligence, it wasn't good to just blindly run west.

The destination of this mission and Tang Luo's group's original destination could basically be determined to be the same; there was no need to choose between the two, it could be treated entirely as one matter.

A Ping said there was only a small gathering point here, not even counting as a village in scale, without even a name.

This manor estate was the biggest household here; they had inquired when they wandered to this place.

Half a month ago, for no apparent reason, there was no one left; it became desolate.

The people here were timid, simply not daring to approach.

But these four desperate deserters had their heads tied to their belt loops, planning to see if there was anything valuable.

The money, currency here was that kind of small copper coin, Kong Fangxiong; there were several sizes, representing different denominations; minting rights were held in the hands of Exorcist families one by one.

Engraved with whatever symbols, emblems, or family surnames, represented which Exorcist family minted and produced them.

There was also silver and such, but most people might not necessarily see or use silver in their entire lives — their lives were also relatively short.

The three left the manor estate; outside on the streets, it was actually quite a bit more lively than imagined.

On both sides of the manor estate leaned quite a few houses; opposite were also low houses; the dirt road underfoot was quite firm and level.

At least no dust was rising now; on rainy days it wouldn't be full of potholes and muddy beyond measure.

Various peddlers set up stalls by the roadside; the small wooden huts opposite were also shops, selling food, coarse cloth, farm tools, all kinds of daily necessities.

Quite a few people on the street walked back and forth, stopping to chat and trade.

"Is this the market here?" A Ping scratched his head in some surprise.

This level of liveliness almost caught up to Lake City.

Given this gathering point's population, it must be market time for it to be this lively.

Anyway, half a double-hour ago when they came over, there were only a few people outside; seeing the four of them looking like fierce evil spirits, they ran away extremely fast, even losing a straw sandal.

Picked up by someone, it was now stuffed in the cloth bag dangling at A Ping's waist, muttering away.

"Didn't they say someone went missing from this manor estate? These people still dare to hold a market nearby?" Ao Yulie said.

But one could also see that these people had some taboo avoidance toward the manor estate behind the three; when passing by, they all deliberately detoured a bit.

Even when Tang Luo's group came out, they didn't dare look much.

But there was no lack of bold ones; diagonally opposite, a house was a noodle shop, the stove placed outside, emitting steaming heat.

The face of the chef-cum-owner was faintly visible behind the steam; beside him stood a skinny little girl, a true yellow-haired lass.

Urged by her father, she took uneasy small steps forward, voice thin and weak; the little girl timidly asked: "Sirs, would you like to eat some noodles?"

A Ping didn't dare overstep the two to make the decision, looking toward Tang Luo and Ao Yulie.

"Good," Tang Luo nodded, following the dazed and delighted little girl into the shop.

Ao Yulie followed behind; A Ping hunched his body at the very end, not a trace of his initial fierce appearance to be seen.

This kind of person's ferocity would only be released toward those weaker than themselves.

Walking into the shop, the light dimmed considerably.

Several tables and wooden stools had some years on them; sitting down, they all creaked, making one suspect they might collapse the next second.

"Three honored guests, please wait a moment; the noodles will be ready soon," the owner said while cooking noodles.

That little girl was very sensible, even bringing Tang Luo's group three large sea bowls of water.

The water in the bowls was slightly turbid, tinged with a bit of yellow, not particularly clean.

A Ping wasn't polite at all, nor did he mind; he picked it up and "glug glug" drank it clean, shoving it into the little girl's hands: "Bring this old man another bowl!"

The little girl's body shook, and she ran to the back to ladle water again, running a bit hurriedly.

His feet couldn't keep up with his mind, and he nearly fell.

"There are even sellers of rouge and powder?" Ao Yulie looked outside and surprisingly saw several women standing before a stall.

They were applying rouge to their faces in front of the copper mirror the peddler carried.

But that color — to tell the truth, women who originally had a bit of looks were directly smeared into monkey buttocks, their mouths made a bright red.

It looked strange and ugly.

Yet that peddler, for the sake of business, praised them nonstop, making those women feel extremely good about themselves; they struck coquettish poses and even threw flirtatious glances at Ao Yulie.

No helping it — on this whole street, he was the most handsome, the most dashing.

"Cough." A cough, and Ao Yulie turned his head away, no longer looking.

Although he didn't appreciate their aesthetic in makeup, he still very much appreciated their taste in men.

At this moment, the little girl brought a second bowl of water, even more turbid than before.

A Ping let out a slightly smug hum, seemingly happy at having gained an advantage, then picked it up and drained it in one go, patted his distended belly, and asked: "Are the noodles not ready yet?"

"Coming, sir, your noodles."

The boss was big and burly, looking more like a butcher than a chef, yet he spoke with the distinctive drawn-out cadence of a waiter, sounding rather comical.

Hands like palm-leaf fans easily carried three bowls of noodles and set them down.

As expected, the noodles weren't a clean white, but a dirty grayish-white, paired with a slightly yellow, turbid broth — truly hard to swallow.

The "people" here referred only to Tang Luo and them.

A Ping had no such qualms; he picked up his chopsticks, clamped a big mouthful, and ate it down, slurping noisily, eating with great relish.

In a few mouthfuls he'd eaten two-thirds, then he stopped, looked at Tang Luo and Ao Yulie who hadn't moved their chopsticks, realized, and suddenly slammed the table, shouting loudly: "Boss, your noodles have no flavor!"

The boss walked over with an apologetic smile: "Sir, my noodles have flavor."

"Scram!" A Ping said, "Don't you see the two lords haven't touched their chopsticks? They're definitely dissatisfied!"

Tang Luo and Ao Yulie indeed hadn't moved their chopsticks.

Ao Yulie simply couldn't eat it down; Tang Luo, on the other hand, seemed lost in thought, as if pondering something, with a somewhat distracted air.

"This... then I'll add more, add more." The boss said with an apologetic smile, turning to look at the little girl, "What are you spacing out for? Why aren't you adding condiments yet?"

"There's not much left, Dad." The little girl said.

"I told you to go, so go." The boss raised his big hand and feigned a slap.

The little girl helplessly ran to the back, came out hugging a small jar, and also holding two long chopsticks; she laboriously used the long chopsticks to pick things inside the jar.

After picking them up, she put them into Tang Luo's three bowls, muttering something, not very clear.

A Ping saw this little brat still dared to complain, his eyes widened, about to flare up, but the moment he saw his own bowl, his body instantly stiffened.

What the little girl picked into his bowl wasn't the imagined pickled vegetables or such side dishes.

But fingers — one by one rotten, festering, dripping red and yellow blood.

Black nails, livid color, made A Ping's stomach begin to churn violently.

"Master..." Ao Yulie's face changed, looking at Tang Luo.

Tang Luo shook his head slightly, didn't speak.

"Sir, why aren't you eating anymore?" The boss stood right behind A Ping, reached out, and lightly pressed his hand on his shoulder, "Added a lot of meat; now the flavor is guaranteed to be enough."

"I... you..." A Ping couldn't even finish a single sentence.

The boss's originally smiling face gradually darkened, and he asked: "Wouldn't be no money, would it?"

"Right, wouldn't be no money, would it?" The little girl chimed in, her voice no longer the timid one from before, shrill and piercing.

Like a signal, the people walking and talking outside all stopped at once, everything turning deathly silent.

Everyone looked toward this noodle shop, looked at Tang Luo and them, their faces turning livid, with expressions like dead men.

Those few women who had smeared their faces like monkey buttocks now had faces full of fresh blood; their gaze at Ao Yulie was gloomy and oppressive, yet contained a "burning heat," wanting to swallow him in one gulp.

"No wonder I kept feeling something was off, yet couldn't detect it." Tang Luo said, "Turns out, what's truly off is us. It's us who mistakenly entered, barged into their place."

This is a market, but not a human market.

It's a ghost market!