Chapter 106: Daishan City

“Is there nothing a bit more normal?” Suppressing the urge to complain, Qin Ye grit his teeth and asked.

“There is. For example, when I saved you, that move ‘Ten Thousand Ghosts Devouring Souls’ could easily capture the souls of a hundred thousand people. Even at your current soul-restraining level, you have the ‘Spirit-Cleaving Blade,’ which can sever the souls of a thousand with a single strike. No objections there. The key issue is, your underworld realm doesn’t even have the capacity of a ghost official’s rank—how can you possibly perform those moves?”

Arthas patiently explained, “Don’t worry. Once our underworld expands over hundreds of years, you’ll still be able to wipe out whole cities with a single palm.”

“Moreover, the true strength of a shadow official never lies in spells, but in the soul-cleaving blade they wield. After ‘Bankai’—the final release—it can reach a state of ethereal existence...”

Qin Ye interrupted rationally, “Did you just watch one of those three major worker mangas, ‘Bleach’?”

“Sorry... slipped out. But it’s basically true. Every time you slay a shadow spirit, it nourishes your soul-cleaving blade—or rather, your shadow official’s blade. Once it reaches the ‘Bankai’ state, it can easily crush all spirits of the same tier! Even the three Dao Masters aren’t exceptions! This is the greatest privilege granted to the underworld by the Heavenly Dao’s laws! So, why bother with spells?”

“As for bringing souls back... it’s better if they can be burned right here. If not, I can use the ‘Pocket Universe’ technique to transport them. My rules come from the old underworld; you, a new shadow official after the old underworld’s collapse, forget it.”

Alright then.

So I’m just a beast of burden, huh?

Qin Ye shook his head, stood up, and walked out of the park.

With the fallback plan settled, there were now two things to do.

First, money. Second, find out exactly where that 40 points were hidden.

He left through the park’s back gate, brow slightly furrowed, sinking into deep thought.

He was always lazy and casual before the critical moment, but that didn’t mean his mind was loose or distracted.

“Two months is a long time, but Daishan City, as the capital of Huizhou Province, covers over 700 square kilometers in its main urban area... Condition one: we have to clock in every day,” he murmured thoughtfully while walking. “That limits our time. No mornings. Classes end at four in the afternoon, so we only have eight hours from four to midnight.”

“Condition two: we can’t expose our identity, let alone ask the local special investigation bureau... Sixty days, eight hours each, in a city of nearly ten million people, with every person a potential clue. This is impossible.”

Arthas said calmly, “Those two old men don’t speak nonsense, but this time they emphasized: make sure never to score below sixty. I suspect that... scoring below sixty risks dismissal.”

Qin Ye nodded. “True. If you can’t even meet the basic requirements, how can you teach good students?”

The first batch of students at the First Cultivation University came from all corners, various major lineages, secret sects—this inaugural class was the school’s reputation breakthrough and the most important of its kind. Quality mattered far more than quantity.

“Also, thinking about it now, that sixty points isn’t so easy to get...” Qin Ye narrowed his eyes, barely noticing the various street vendors and snacks as he walked. “Although cultivators’ constitutions are better than ordinary people, who knows who might be sick?”

“Or have other affairs requiring half a day off... If they play by the rules and study at school, even losing one point for a half-day absence means failure.”

“In summary, that forty points’ location won’t be too remote or easy to find. I know now... a taxi.”

Just then, he reached a bus stop, waved his hand, and a taxi pulled over.

“Got an idea?”

Qin Ye nodded and whispered, “Funeral street. Antique market.”

“Daishan City, as the provincial capital, definitely has places like that. Those two locations fit our goal best.”

After giving the funeral street’s name, the taxi quickly took him there. But the closer Qin Ye got, the more he felt something was off.

The atmosphere was different.

Though Daishan City’s yin energy was pitifully scarce, it was present. Here, even before entering Funeral Street, countless specialized shops lined the road.

There were places selling talisman papers, magical tools, jade ornaments... dazzlingly varied and steeped in religious atmosphere.

“Master, what’s going on here?” he asked in surprise.

The driver replied while driving, “Young brother, first time in Daishan? Not to be rude, but lately... things have gotten weird.”

Qin Ye immediately understood why.

The underworld no longer existed; shadow spirits had nowhere to go. Their yin energy was thin, but in large numbers, the number of ghost sightings was far from small.

One or two, dozens, no big deal—but what about thousands?

Added to that, the government deliberately prepared people psychologically and didn’t block it too much; the supernatural atmosphere naturally escalated, though still under control.

The driver gestured to both sides, “It’s been like this for two years. Monks, Taoists, wandering sorcerers—tch tch. Used to be invisible during the Cultural Revolution’s destruction of old customs, now they’re back. I heard it’s not just Daishan; other provincial capitals are the same. This time, the government barely controls it and even gave them a street to do business. The profits are good—at least ten thousand pure profit a month.”

Qin Ye nodded slightly, eyes scanning both sides.

Indeed, business was booming.

Every shop, whether fortune-telling or selling ‘magical tools,’ was bustling, with at least a few customers—not like decades ago when no one cared.

He didn’t feel pleased, but rather a heavier weight in his heart.

This meant the supernatural phenomena were intensifying. With threats, citizens sought peace of mind.

Soon, the car stopped at the entrance to Funeral Street.

An ancient stone archway stood there, flanked by two one-and-a-half-meter statues of Ti Ting (the divine listener).

Unlike typical funeral streets with white banners and paper money offerings, there were noticeably fewer typical funeral stalls, replaced by various cultivation-related shops.

Qin Ye casually entered a “Ning Family Talisman Room,” where five or six people were present.

The shop was decorated with antique charm: a large hanging painting of the Three Purities on the left, a large image of Shakyamuni Buddha on the right, small palace lanterns hanging from above, some somewhat worn, all with an ancient aura.

Red talisman papers, scribbled with ghostly symbols, lay inside finely carved wooden boxes.

Sandalwood incense burned inside.

As Qin Ye entered, a waiter in a Zhongshan suit approached with a smile. “Sir, how may I assist you?”

Qin Ye felt somewhat disappointed.

The whole room gave no sense of genuine spiritual energy; all talisman papers were cheap imitations.

He casually asked, “What do you sell here?”

“Ancestral talisman papers,” the waiter smiled, gesturing behind the counter. “Our boss apprenticed under the Ning family, a famous talisman lineage in Tenglong Province. His talismans have Buddhist nature. No matter what demon or ghost, carrying these guarantees a lifetime of safety.”

Qin Ye put his hands in his pockets, turning to look at a wooden box on a shelf holding ghostly talisman papers that hurt his eyes. He said flatly, “You believe in this?”

The waiter smiled perfectly, “Sir, it’s not about belief—it’s real.”

He deliberately lowered his voice seriously. “In recent years, even decades, ghost sightings and incidents are countless. You might call it superstition, but the countless supernatural posts online, on major websites—do you still think it’s a joke?”

“The government hasn’t denied it either; that’s a tacit admission. If Master Ning didn’t care about the world’s suffering, he wouldn’t have come out to help.”

Qin Ye smiled with complexity. “How much for this talisman?”

“This one’s called the ‘Lingbao Qingyun Tongyun Ansha Talisman,’ priced at 666,” the waiter said with a smile. “Sir, don’t think it expensive. Some techniques have been lost, and the energy cost is hard to measure. We’re new on this street, selling at cost. Compared to Wanrongfu and Xianghening, we’re much cheaper.”

666 for a talisman... Qin Ye sighed. If he weren’t in Bao’an City, he’d consider opening a shop. This was daylight robbery! Cost price? Maybe thirty?

Not to mention, with a few strokes and a bit of shadow official aura, which ghost would dare come poke their nose?

“Ning Da Xian...” he shook his head in disbelief. The waiter quickly corrected, “Master, not ‘Da Xian’—that’s too grand.”

Qin Ye nodded. “Does he know the things he paints?”

“Old me certainly does.” Before the waiter finished, an elderly voice came from behind. Qin Ye turned to see a short old man with sharp eyes looking at him.

The man was about sixty, long white beard down to his chest, his white hair loosely tied in a bun with black ribbons hanging on his shoulders.

He wore a white robe and black silk pants, with white socks and black cloth shoes—exuding an aura of an immortal or Taoist recluse.

“Master Ning,” the waiter immediately said.

Master Ning waved his hand, and the waiter went to assist other customers.

Master Ning and Qin Ye exchanged glances, neither speaking.

His expression unreadable, Master Ning’s mind was on high alert.

For some reason...

From the moment this man entered, he couldn’t help but watch him, and a terrifying feeling never left him.

Daring to open such a shop—there are always opportunists, but given the current state in China, whether talismans or jade accessories work or not is known within two or three years. This reduced charlatans significantly. Even if one’s strength was lacking, they would at least know the trade or have ancestral rumors.

Crossing boundaries, the seven great ghost craftsmen finally welcomed a prosperous market, and they would never hold back.

Master Ning couldn’t explain the feeling. Just now... he seemed to see a black cloud, unlike any before, rushing in from outside, chilling him through and through. Moreover... this young man seemed dressed in ancient clothes, with white hair like someone risen from a coffin.

“Are you...” Master Ning took a deep breath and lowered his voice, “a Ghost Craftsman?”

Ghost Craftsman?

Qin Ye smiled and shook his head amusedly, watching to see what Master Ning would say next.

Sweat dripped down Master Ning’s forehead.

He wasn’t a Ghost Craftsman... but the closer he got, the colder his limbs felt.

It was as if the other blinked, and if the King of Hell wanted him dead tonight, no one would survive till tomorrow.

“Sir...” he rasped, “I... haven’t crossed boundaries, right?”

“You... usually hang around the ghost market. This street is just for us to make a living...”

Qin Ye chuckled, uninterested, and turned to leave.

“Sir! Sir!” Before he could exit, Master Ning hurried after him.

Amid the stunned eyes of the waiter and the puzzled looks of other customers, he bowed deeply beside Qin Ye, his expression almost obsequious.

“You’re here for that cat too?”