Chapter 121

When a person dies, they become a ghost; when a ghost dies, it becomes ni; when ni dies, it becomes xi; when xi dies, it becomes yi; when yi dies, it becomes wei; when wei dies, it becomes formless.

Formless is called yi.

Soundless is called xi—

This is also one of the cultivation paths within the Yin Ghost Dao.

The origins of earthly ghosts are mostly no more than three types.

First, a cultivator’s physical body decays beyond use, yet their primordial spirit refuses to descend into the Yellow Springs for reincarnation; instead, they absorb turbid yin and decaying qi, exchange their essence, and transform themselves into yin spirits and ghostly entities.

They then cultivate the Yin Ghost Dao to attain another lifetime of immortality.

This method is quite common in certain lands and realm spaces, where entire clans or sects gather both humans and ghosts under one roof, with ghost mothers and human children sharing the same room—nothing unusual.

But Xudu Tian is ranked among the Celestial Realms, far beyond any land or realm space, and now it is the age of the Immortal Dao’s manifest holiness, its radiant power suppressing all other arcane tribulations and paths.

It encloses heaven and earth, inhales and exhales yin and yang.

It governs the four seasons, regulates the eight extremities—

Even the cultivators within this Celestial Realm are exceedingly proud; if their physical bodies are damaged, their primordial spirits mostly choose reincarnation, hoping to re-enter the Immortal Dao’s lineage in their next life, rather than degrade their primordial spirit into a ghostly form to continue cultivation.

Second, places like the Abyss.

The celestial timing is askew, the light and clear do not rise, yang qi does not reach, tortoise and snake seal their gates.

Over countless years, the Sui gods have stirred without movement, their spiritual essence flowing without trace, yet still giving birth to countless naturally formed yin spirits and ghostly entities.

And the third.

Is when these yin spirits and ghosts mate with one another, giving birth to ghost children and ghost grandchildren…

…

Song Rupu was not born from the primordial spirit of any cultivator, nor did he have ghostly parents; he was merely a common yin soul, accidentally born from the turbid yin of the Abyss.

At first, he was clueless and unaware; later, after an unknown span of years, he gradually developed intellect and understood morality.

Though the Abyss is a treacherous place for Immortal Dao practitioners, for ghostly beings like Song Rupu, it is an excellent cultivation ground, nearly comparable to the blessed caves and paradises of orthodox Immortal Dao.

After absorbing turbid essence for years, surviving several close calls where he was devoured as a snack by greater ghosts, Song Rupu finally earned himself a modest reputation.

Later, he took a name for himself—Song Rupu—from an ancient text, truly a moment of great satisfaction.

And the reason he was captured was because he heard the son of Shanhu Gong was seeking a son-in-law, so he came to join the festivities, hoping to drink a cup of wedding wine.

Shanhu Gong is a famed elder of the Yin Ghost Dao in this region.

In the cultivation of the Yin Ghost Dao,

When a person dies, they become a ghost; when a ghost dies, it becomes ni; when ni dies, it becomes xi; when xi dies, it becomes yi; when yi dies, it becomes wei; when wei dies, it becomes formless—

Beyond formlessness lies another vast realm.

This old man has advanced from “ghost” to “ni,” and sixty years ago, he ascended from “ni” to “xi.”

Now he is a formidable ghost of the “Great Xi” realm.

Moreover, Shanhu Gong’s consort, Flying Flower Granny, is also a “ni,” equally formidable and not to be underestimated.

These two ghosts have ruled this land for countless years, commanding legions of evil spirits, with hundreds of offspring and countless spirit ghosts under their command.

Though far inferior to the ancient yin gods deep within the Abyss, they are still a dominant force.

Song Rupu had merely intended to come and watch the spectacle, say a few flattering words, and if he pleased the young lady enough, perhaps he could one day forge a connection with Shanhu Gong.

At that point, his future would truly be boundless.

But upon just one glance, the young lady—who had already chosen a groom—set her eyes on Song Rupu himself.

To show sincerity, she swallowed her original groom whole, then imprisoned the helpless Song Rupu.

The wedding will take place in three days!

The spectator became the spectacle.

Just thinking of the young lady’s appearance, Song Rupu felt a chill run through him, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

She was nearly a colossal corpse-hill, oozing pus and stench, covered in green mold and yellow blotches, merely animate.

The foul, stinking wind exhaled from her mouth and nose could blow Song Rupu from the courtyard pavilion all the way to the main hall, rolling him uncontrollably along the way.

This was no marriage—it was murder!

Song Rupu had tried escaping several times, but each time he was blocked by servants and attendants, never able to break free…

At this moment.

The Long-Tongue Ghost, watching Song Rupu pinned to the ground by a group of great ghosts, pondered for a moment and decided that forcing him was not a lasting solution for harmony.

So he changed his tone, speaking gently:

“Why are you so stubborn, Master-in-Law, refusing so fiercely?”

“You know damn well why! What do you think?!”

Song Rupu glared furiously, eyes locked on the Long-Tongue Ghost; if not for the great ghosts holding him down, he would have pounded the ghost into paste.

“The flesh is merely an outer form, insignificant.”

The Long-Tongue Ghost chuckled, dismissive:

“After the candles are blown out, aren’t they all the same?”

“You’re full of shit! How could they be the same? When the candles are out, your lady turns over and crushes me flat!”

Song Rupu roared, voice thunderous.

The Long-Tongue Ghost was not angry; she patiently waited until he finished his furious rant, eyes wide and out of new words, then smiled:

“No matter how you put it, the young lady is the child of Shanhu Gong and Flying Flower Granny.

Master-in-Law, you have no family or elders, you’re a lone wandering ghost; second, you have no talent, your spiritual powers and ghostly arts are pitiful. To speak plainly, if one day some powerful ghost chews you up as a snack, no one will even wail for your funeral.

Only by clinging to this young lady’s thick leg can you ever hope to rise again. To cling stubbornly to your pride like this—isn’t that sheer stupidity?”

Thick leg?

That thing’s size couldn’t be called a leg—it’s a city battering ram!

Even a light press would take half your life!

Song Rupu stood motionless, his heart as lifeless as ashes; after a long while, he forced himself to speak:

“I don’t understand. I truly don’t understand… Your lady already chose a groom, so why, the moment she saw me, did she become so desperate, as if she couldn’t live without me?”

Song Rupu’s face was blank:

“I’ve been a ghost for so many years, yet I’ve never figured out what’s so special about me? Your lady truly has eyes like a hawk!”

“It’s because Master-in-Law is exceptionally handsome.”

The Long-Tongue Ghost nodded firmly:

“Master-in-Law is beautiful; the young lady admires you—what’s hard to understand?”

Handsome?

Enraged, Song Rupu froze, as if hearing some absurd joke.

He slowly raised a hand to touch his face, rubbed his eyes hard, lips twitched—but no words came out.

Since gaining awareness,

With his average appearance, this was the first time he’d ever heard such a description.

The Long-Tongue Ghost looked utterly convinced, and the great ghosts pinning him nodded too, making him feel as if he were in a dream, wondering if he’d misheard.

“I… handsome? I heard Shanhu Gong has hundreds of offspring, and your lady is among the least favored; now I hear this, I know the rumors were true.”

Song Rupu’s emotions were tangled, half amused, half despondent:

“Looks like you’ve never tasted good pork…”

The Long-Tongue Ghost gave a glance; the great ghosts, each over ten feet tall, quickly understood, hastily released their grip, letting the expressionless Song Rupu rise on his own.

“According to tradition, not only the young lady, but her two personal maids, Xiao Chan and Zi Ying, are also to be given to Master-in-Law as concubines.”

She leaned close to Song Rupu, her stinking long tongue twitching as she spoke, making him shudder with revulsion; he stepped back several paces.

“Xiao Chan is fine—she looks like a great Vajra Warrior; Master-in-Law surely won’t find her appealing. But Zi Ying is exceptionally beautiful.”

At this, the Long-Tongue Ghost sighed:

“Too bad Zi Ying is today leading the little ghosts to Old Willow Village to collect meat goods—no one knows what kind of meat she’s gathered yet.

The good meat in the pens has nearly all been devoured by the young lady; now even breeding stock is scarce, leaving everyone’s mouths craving that slippery, tender taste—hopefully it’s top-grade meat, then—”

“Enough! Who asked you to talk about eating people?!”

Seeing the Long-Tongue Ghost’s mouth already dripping saliva, splattering to the ground with a sizzling sound,

Song Rupu cut her off coldly:

“That Zi Ying—she’s also a Zhaoxiu who cultivates by consuming blood?”

“Master-in-Law, you’re joking. We have pens for humans here—how could anyone not consume blood?”

The Long-Tongue Ghost wiped her saliva, licking her lips with lingering satisfaction: “Those like you, Master-in-Law, are truly rare—a Jingxiu. Among a thousand spirit ghosts I’ve met, I doubt I’ve found even one Jingxiu.”

“Why not try blood food? It’ll soothe your anger.”

She flicked her long tongue, smiling:

“I happened to get a fine piece from the pen yesterday—young, smooth skin, tender flesh. I heard he was a proper Immortal Dao Qi-Condensation cultivator, from some Xuanzhen Sect outside the Abyss?”

Song Rupu’s face remained cold and silent.

He turned and walked away.

“Come! Take Master-in-Law back to his room!”

The Long-Tongue Ghost clapped her hands; the great ghosts hurried after him.

“If you won’t even eat blood food, what’s the point of living…?”

By the time Song Rupu had vanished from sight, far beyond view.

The Long-Tongued Ghost spun his body around and walked toward the human pen, muttering to himself:

“All these Jingxiu are fools—nothing like us Zhaoxiu. I wonder what kind of life the young lady will have after marriage, and how she’ll deal with him?”

As he thought of this, the Long-Tongued Ghost secretly shook his head, then floated upward, transforming into a chilling ghostly shadow.

In the grip of hunger and thirst, she faintly heard countless screams drifting from the distant human pen, and caught the sweet, fragrant scent of flesh being hacked apart by great axes.

Her heart burned hotter, and her speed quickened further.

……

……

And elsewhere.

Strange fragrances drifted through the air, accompanied by the clanging of strings.

Chen Hang looked up and saw a dozen towering yin corpses with blue faces and fangs, carrying a crimson silk palanquin slowly floating through the air. Ahead, a troupe of musicians blew drums and gongs; behind, maidens scattered flowers in accompaniment—grand in spectacle.

A gust of yin wind stirred, lifting the curtain slightly, revealing a beautiful female ghost in purple robes seated calmly within the palanquin.

She pinched a morsel from the table before her and slowly placed it in her mouth, her eyes half-closing in evident satisfaction.

“This young master is a rare guest—quite unfamiliar to me.”

No sooner had the silk palanquin halted than a soft, sweet laugh emerged from within.

The purple-robed ghost glided gracefully out of the palanquin, fixed her gaze on Chen Hang, paused for a moment, then blushed as she spoke:

“Why are you standing in such a filthy place, speaking with these witless turbid ghosts? Are you hungry and thirsty? I happen to have some snacks here—would you care to try some?”

She lifted a porcelain round tray from the palanquin’s table and held it before Chen Hang, smiling with lips pursed:

“These were freshly selected and slaughtered from the human pen today—truly fresh, not those stale, sour scraps. Try them, see if they suit your taste.”

The tray was wide, as large as a banana leaf, upon which dark red hearts and spleens were artfully stacked, adorned with flower petals and leaves.

A thick, foul stench surged into his nostrils, making him want to vomit, his stomach churned, and his breath grew labored.

“Among human organs, I most love these internal bits—they’re so deliciously slippery. Even the young lady sometimes can’t outpace me.”

The purple-robed ghost spoke shyly:

“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself yet—I’m the young lady’s personal maid. The young lady is the child of Lord Shanhup and Madam Feihua. May I ask, young master, where are you from? Have you ever heard of these two elders’ names?”

Again, Lord Shanhup…

And Madam Feihua too?

Chen Hang pondered briefly, then bowed and smiled:

“I’m merely a solitary mountain ghost—no illustrious lineage to speak of, truly unworthy of mention… As for these two elders’ names, I must confess my ignorance—it’s embarrassing, truly embarrassing.

As for why I’m here, I was simply bored and decided to take a stroll. I happened to see a proper Daoist cultivator tied to this meat rack, and curiosity drew me closer. If I’ve offended, I beg your pardon.”

“Taking a stroll?”

The purple-robed ghost nodded, her smile blooming like a flower.

She continued: “I’m called Ziying—call me that, young master. As for this proper Daoist cultivator—”

She spoke: “Funny enough, lately many have come from beyond the Earth Abyss—not just him, but many others. Let me think… weren’t they Daoists from Xuanzhen Sect?”

“Oh? Where did they get the nerve? To walk straight into the tiger’s mouth?”

Chen Hang was slightly startled inwardly, but his expression remained calm as he smiled:

“The flesh of Daoists is excellent food. Have you captured any yet?”

“I lack such ability—but the young lady herself went out and captured several fine meat supplies. I chatted with them and even learned their names.”

Ziying beamed, counting off on her fingers:

“Yu Wanchou, Wang Ying, Xu Zhi, and one Zhao something—oh, I can’t remember.”

Xu Zhi?

How could it be him?

When did he come to the Earth Abyss?!

Chen Hang’s heart jolted; he forcibly suppressed his gaze and quelled his killing intent.

And then—

Ziying suddenly turned around and tore off her own head!

“I still don’t know your name—oh, by the way—”

She spoke in a chilling tone:

“Do you find my appearance pleasing?”