Chapter 124: Bone-Chilling Yin Qi, All Ghosts Gathered

After being kicked away, Song Rupu’s face still wore a smile; he had just been about to step forward and chat further, but soon he was seized by several ghastly demons with blue faces and fangs charging out of the small garden.

Before he could speak, they pounced and delivered a brutal beating.

They beat him until he clutched his head in agony, begging for mercy, then impatiently hoisted him under each armpit, as if carrying a bundle of firewood.

“Got it! You haven’t just never eaten good pork—you’ve never tasted pork at all in your life!”

Song Rupu looked at Chen Hang, standing a few steps away, expression calm and indifferent, as if none of this concerned him, and his heart shattered.

“With such a pearl before you, why cling to me? Even now that you’re a ghost, how could you be so blind? Can’t you even tell black from white?!”

“The young lady herself insisted on marrying you, Song Rupu—not this old woman…”

The long-tongued ghost, strolling calmly out from the small garden, glanced at Chen Hang, paused in surprise, then fixed his gaze on Song Rupu and sighed:

“Master-in-law, today is the wedding day. All the ghosts in the mansion have waited for this day a long time—they’re all eager to feast on blood and flesh in this joyous hour. Don’t keep ruining it for yourself!”

The long-tongued ghost stared coldly at Song Rupu, his monstrous nature fully revealed:

“Since the young lady has set her eyes on you, it’s your fortune!

Even if you don’t wish to comply, even if you plan to play tricks, don’t choose today to cause trouble and spoil the feast for everyone in the mansion! Otherwise, you won’t be spared!”

The demons holding Song Rupu echoed in unison, lowering their heads to glare at him with unmistakable malice.

They waited only for him to open his mouth again—then they’d devour him whole, stomachs bulging with his flesh.

“All I ever wanted was to drink a cup of plain wine—why must I suffer this fate?”

Song Rupu’s heart turned to ash:

“If I’d known this would happen, I’d have stayed locked in my cave and never stepped out—let your lot of beggarly servants search for a hundred years and never find the threshold!”

The long-tongued ghost sneered silently, waved a hand, and ordered the ghosts to carry him back to his room to bathe, dress, and don new clothes.

Chen Hang watched Song Rupu, bound at all four limbs like a pig about to be slaughtered, crying out in despair and struggling fiercely.

But within moments, he was dragged farther away and tossed into a side chamber.

“Who is this?”

Chen Hang asked Ziying beside him.

“Song Rupu. This year’s new son-in-law.”

Ziying’s face flushed with embarrassment; she lowered her head and muttered:

“This one, like Young Master Bai, is a cultivation practitioner who refuses blood food. It’s just coincidence.”

Chen Hang had taken the alias Bai Daoquan, claiming he’d chosen the name from an ancient text; Ziying had since added this made-up surname to her previous references to him.

“This Song son-in-law doesn’t seem happy about the marriage. From his behavior just now, did he mean to drag me down with him?”

Chen Hang smiled:

“May I ask, Ziying, is there some hidden reason behind this?”

“What hidden reason? He’s just arrogant and proud, and perhaps the young lady’s appearance… slightly, just barely… falls short…”

Ziying shook her head, revealing a faint, almost imperceptible sneer, and said no more, leading Chen Hang through the garden and pavilions into the main hall of the mansion.

Before him stretched a scene of lanterns, decorations, gongs, and drums—boisterous and lively.

Though the main hall of this ghostly mansion was spacious, it could not hold so many ghostly guests.

Thus, on the open white ground outside, twelve grand canopies had been erected, each lined with carpets and set with banquet tables.

Chen Hang had arrived late; not only was the main hall full, but all twelve tables on the white ground were packed.

Large and small ghosts dashed north and south, floated wildly through the air.

Cold winds hissed; black mists drifted thickly.

Red-haired ghosts, black-faced ghosts, ox-headed ghosts, hanging ghosts, drowning ghosts, knife-demons, night-crying ghosts, disheveled ghosts, stiff corpses, plague ghosts, childbirth ghosts, belly ghosts…

Groups of ghosts, some with broken limbs, some legless, some headless, revelled wildly, feasting on flesh and drinking blood. The countless chewing sounds mingled with raucous laughter—now the atmosphere was profoundly eerie.

Chen Hang chuckled, bowed to Ziying, and said no more.

After scanning the scene, he casually chose a slightly less crowded banquet table and sat down.

“Young Master Bai?”

Ziying frowned slightly; she had intended to guide him to the main hall, but Chen Hang had already settled himself with practiced ease.

After a moment’s hesitation, she gave up.

“Sitting out on the white ground? Not bad… Though the ghosts around are all wandering souls, unworthy of high society, at least they’re far from the young lady. That’s a good thing.”

Ziying thought to herself:

“With the young lady’s reckless nature, if she sees Young Master Bai, she’ll surely come fighting for him again. It’s infuriating—I’m lowborn and can’t compete with her…

One day delayed is one day gained. Best I wait until I tire of him, then hand him over to her!”

With this thought:

A surge of fury rose within her.

Not once…

Every little lover she’d taken a fancy to had been forcibly taken by Lady Yue, before she’d even finished playing with them.

Even if such used-up goods were returned intact afterward, Ziying found them filthy and would simply chew them up whole as a snack with her wine.

After this repeated cycle, even her own heart had grown a strange, indescribable emotion.

If not for the lingering terror of Lord Shanhú and Madam Feihua’s ancient cruelty, she would never dare resist.

Ziying longed to torture Lady Yue with a hundred cruel torments, then slowly devour her bite by bite.

“Judging by Young Master Bai’s frail frame, he’s clearly not sturdy enough to withstand play. Tonight, I, Ziying, am drinking this first sip of broth—no god or emperor can take it from me!”

She cast one final, deep look at Chen Hang, then turned and walked away, thinking:

“I’m tender, caring, and gentle—Lady Yue is not…

If you want to meet Lord Shanhú and Madam Feihua, Young Master Bai, you’d better have a strong enough body—don’t let that vile woman crush you to death with a single roll in bed!”

Elsewhere,

Chen Hang calmly pushed aside several ghosts trying to snatch his seat, pulled over a chair, sat down, and ignored their curses, still wearing a faint smile.

The two ghosts beside him glanced over curiously.

One was a gaunt, emaciated Gao Huang ghost, his entire body green, radiating strange medicinal scents that blended into a cloying, nauseating odor that made one dizzy and sick.

The other was a towering ghost, three zhang tall—a miniature giant.

He didn’t use a chair; he squatted on the ground, yet still towered above every other ghost at the banquet, his slender head nearly brushing the canopy’s top.

“Younger brother Bai Daoquan, greetings to both elder brothers.”

He bowed.

All the ghosts at the table were feasting wildly; some even fought over food, creating a chaotic din.

Only the Gao Huang ghost and the towering ghost paused their eating to glance at the newcomer, Chen Hang.

“Younger brother, where did you learn that face? Impressive skill, truly impressive!”

The Gao Huang ghost swallowed a piece of dried meat and praised:

“Old brother here is a mess, but you’ve managed such a refined appearance—how’d you do it? Some ghostly secret technique?”

He licked his lips, still hungry:

“If I had your fine skin and face, I’d have become Madam Feihua’s favorite lover long ago, and joined Lord Shanhú as a fellow consort—daily feasts of tender, sweet human flesh, so blissful!

Instead of that, now I have to sell my ass just to get a bite of blood!

I nearly die for it, and all I get are a few bones—just the thick thigh bones of old women and old men! How pitiful!”

The surrounding ghosts burst into laughter, erupting in chaos.

“This younger brother is unfamiliar—I’ve never seen you before.”

The ghost on the right slowly chewed a heart and liver, then, after meticulously cleaning every scrap, pulled down a silk tassel from the canopy to wipe his mouth.

He looked at Chen Hang and bowed:

“I saw just now that Ziying from the mansion brought you here—do you know her well?”

As soon as the towering ghost spoke, not only did the Gao Huang ghost stop eating, but several ghosts who’d been buried in their meals also lifted their heads in surprise.

“Just chance encounter. I’m a lone wandering soul—how could I possibly be acquainted with such a grand household? Don’t tease me.”

Chen Hang sighed and shook his head.

“Damn it! Pretty boys are always putting on airs—every word out of their mouth is a lie!”

The Gao Huang ghost cursed inwardly, forced a smile, and reached again for food, clattering cups and bowls.

At this moment,

He suddenly felt the air grow damper.

When he inhaled, it felt wet and heavy.

He belched, sniffed deeply a few times, shook his head, and dismissed it.

And not just him.

Dozens of ghosts under the main hall and the twelve canopies faintly sensed this change.

But the sudden increase in moisture was within normal limits—subtle, faint, easily overlooked.

So they paid no mind and resumed their revelry.

Cups clinked; demonic laughter echoed coldly.

Crimson and purple were hearts and livers; multicolored were intestines…

Only the continuous sounds of chewing could be heard; the ghosts devoured the flesh like tigers devouring lambs, as if starved for three days and nights, devouring every scrap of meat, even crunching the bones to fragments and swallowing them whole.

Seeing Chen Hang never lifted his chopsticks,

The towering ghost beside him meticulously licked the last drops of blood from his plate.

He casually knocked over several spirits trying to fight over licking the plates, then asked curiously:

“Brother, why aren’t you eating? This is real human flesh and blood—not some fake substitute made from chicken, duck, or livestock. The flavor is incomparably tender and delicious; once this feast passes, you’ll never find its like again.”

“Exactly, exactly!”

The Gaohuang Ghost also mumbled in:

“This time, Miss Yue is incredibly generous—anyone who comes to the banquet gets blood food. What a grand figure! I wonder what kind of fortune the new groom has—could he be a man of ten virtuous lifetimes, to have earned such a connection?”

“I am a Jingxiu—I don’t need blood food.”

Under the long ghost’s gaze, Chen Hang shook his head.

Jingxiu?

The Long Ghost and Gaohuang Ghost froze, their eyes strange. After a long silence, they awkwardly turned their heads away, coughed, and wore expressions of utter strangeness.

“Jingxiu flesh tastes quite good too—a fine dry snack… wait, no!”

Gaohuang Ghost had just blurted it out unconsciously, then realized he’d slipped up; he quickly turned his face away, afraid to look at Chen Heng anymore.

“You’re still young—you don’t know the exquisite taste of blood food. That’s why you’d say such a thing.”

The Long Ghost hastily swallowed saliva, tore his gaze from Chen Hang, rubbed his head, and feigned calmness:

“The dishes served so far are still ‘civil eating’—not satisfying at all. Not only do you, brother, look down on them—even I, your elder brother, find them as tasteless as chewing wax, utterly joyless.”

As the Long Ghost spoke, several spirits who had been knocked down for fighting over licking the plates sneered, spitting on the ground.

The Long Ghost remained composed, continuing:

“What’s coming next—the ‘martial eating’—is the true highlight of this feast!”

“I’m not exaggerating—if you’re a Jingxiu, even one bite will turn you into a Zhaoxiu!”

Around them, countless terrifying ghostly shadows moved back and forth, noisy and chaotic.

The stench of blood and severed limbs on the tables mingled with the pus and rot on the ghosts’ bodies, making one want to vomit.

Seeing that Miss Yue still hadn’t arrived, Chen Hang suppressed the killing intent in his heart.

To avoid standing out, he struck up a conversation with the Long Ghost beside him.

This ghost, when speaking of the difference between ‘civil eating’ and ‘martial eating,’ spoke endlessly, clearly with deep personal insight—drawing nearby ghosts to gather, drooling, utterly absorbed.

Civil eating merely involves cooking the flesh into dishes.

Martial eating means swallowing raw flesh alive—emphasizing intact bodies, where screams and wails serve as the finest seasoning for wine…

As the Long Ghost vividly described it, the surrounding ghosts’ appetites surged, their stomachs rumbling loudly, one after another.

Many ghosts cast cold, hungry glances toward Chen Hang, the so-called Jingxiu, their eyes filled with malice and hunger.

Even the Long Ghost.

Looked at him once, then again, then once more…

“Among ghosts, there’s cannibalism? And it seems even Zhaoxiu who eat blood food regard Jingxiu as prey? The world is truly strange—no amount of hearsay compares to seeing it firsthand.”

Chen Hang’s gaze flickered slightly, thinking inwardly.

At that moment,

the Long Ghost was just recounting his first experience with ‘martial eating,’ but hadn’t finished his vivid tale.

Suddenly, thunderous gongs and drums erupted, followed by a symphony of music and floating ribbons.

Amid the announcer’s loud ceremonial chant, Song Rupu, dressed in new robes and expressionless, stumbled out from the inner chamber, flanked by several maids.

He glanced around, his eyes instantly reddened; he stood frozen for a long time, until the maids subtly pushed him.

Only then did he reluctantly extend his hand, shut his eyes as if facing death, turned away, and led Miss Yue into the main hall.

The ground trembled slightly; tiny pebbles hovered in midair for an instant before tumbling down.

The ghosts’ noise fell instantly silent.

Even the deafening music and drums were abruptly stifled.

The earth-shaking footsteps drew nearer, growing louder, until they roared like thunder, shaking loose decades of dust from the rafters.

“So this is Miss Yue? Indeed, she lives up to her name…”

Chen Hang looked, his pupils shrinking slightly.