Chapter 28: Are You Selling Ghosts or Running a Technical College?

Harbor City, an international metropolis that had flourished thanks to its natural deep-water port, was far from the scale of the third-tier cities of Feng Xue's era. Yet, at a glance, it possessed something of the flavor of the "Night Shanghai" often depicted in period films. It was a place of glitz and glamour, a world of flowers and snow, yet the streets were filled with rickshaw pullers, laborers struggling to survive, and beggars crouching in dark corners.

Compared to the simple, almost utopian folk customs of Ping'an County, this city—only a few dozen miles away—offered Feng Xue a stark, visceral sense of reality. It was the kind of reality that the old era ought to have possessed.

With the start-up capital he had obtained by trading his watch tucked safely in his pocket, Feng Xue felt a pang of relief at his decision. Had he waited to trade it here, he might have fetched a higher price, but actually securing the funds would have been no easy task. Although he possessed the "Little White Snake," a lethal weapon, he was not entirely confident in his ability to deal with these so-called martial artists. After all, fear stems from the unknown.

Fortunately, his purpose in coming to Harbor City was quite simple. Ignoring the beckoning of the flamboyantly dressed young ladies by the roadside, Feng Xue waved at the rickshaw pullers waiting near the brothel.

When they saw his gesture, two or three pullers rose simultaneously, but as they noticed the others moving as well, they paused in unison. Without a word, as if by some unspoken agreement, one puller continued forward while the others returned to their "standby" state.

"Where to, sir?" the puller asked with a grin as he pulled the rickshaw up. Feng Xue didn't mince words and recited the address Nine Aunt had given him: "42 Qinfeng Road."

...

The scenery along the way was unremarkable. Feng Xue paid the fare and stood before a cramped antique shop. Tucked between a brothel and a gambling den, the small storefront looked like a half-person squeezed between two burly men—weak, pitiful, and helpless. If one didn't look specifically for it, it would be impossible to notice.

However, this reclusive style suited Feng Xue's aesthetic. Ignoring the noise on either side, he ducked into the narrow, alley-like recess and pushed open the unremarkable wooden door.

"Jingle..."

The opening of the door was accompanied by the crisp sound of a brass bell. A middle-aged man, sitting behind the counter with an air of profound composure, set down his book, raised his eyelids slightly, and said, "Welcome. What would the guest like to buy?"

Feng Xue’s gaze swept across the cramped shop, taking in the calligraphy, jade carvings, and jewelry, but he spoke directly: "Nine Aunt sent me."

The moment he heard the name "Nine Aunt," the listless shopkeeper suddenly perked up, a smile spreading across his face. Feng Xue felt a premonition that he was about to be fleeced, but considering the seven watches he had left as a buffer, he felt settled and continued, "I want..."

"I understand, I understand. Everyone sent to me has more or less the same idea. This way, please!"

The shopkeeper didn't even give Feng Xue a chance to state his requirements, opening a small door at the back of the shop. As it swung open, a faint chill permeated the air. Feng Xue activated his over-the-shoulder perspective, but saw nothing noteworthy. Only the eighty-thousand-plus days of remaining life force visible above the shopkeeper's head told him that this man was likely an expert.

"I see your sort of young master all the time. Bored with women, so you want to find a female ghost or a vixen to spice things up..." The shopkeeper muttered as they walked. Feeling Liu Yunxi stir at his fingertips, Feng Xue couldn't help but twitch his mouth, offering a tentative explanation: "My cultivation requires a ghost. Since I have a choice, I might as well choose one that is pleasant to look at."

"Ah, yes, yes, yes. Every customer tells me that. Just don't get yourself killed and have your family coming to me for trouble!" The shopkeeper adopted an indifferent attitude, leading Feng Xue through a corridor that felt like a school hallway. He scanned the small doors one by one and asked, "Tell me, what are your specific needs? Do you want someone well-read and sensible, or headstrong and wilful? A young girl or a wealthy heiress? You don't need to worry about looks; those that can possess objects are rarely unattractive."

"Uh, shouldn't you be asking what kind of functions I need?" Feng Xue was stunned. Was this like choosing a service worker?

"?" The shopkeeper was taken aback by the question. He studied Feng Xue for a long moment before slapping his forehead.

"Good heavens, you really are here to cultivate techniques. That’s rare... In that case, I need to make some things clear to you."

The shopkeeper led Feng Xue past the two largest doors and opened a smaller one, revealing sparsely populated shelves.

"Although I said you can choose, appearance doesn't necessarily mean it's their true nature. Take this scroll, for instance, which is said to be the authentic work of a poetess from eight hundred years ago—"

The shopkeeper pulled a light cord, illuminating the dim room. He picked up an aged-looking scroll and turned to Feng Xue.

"This thing is actually an imitation copied by someone four hundred years ago while practicing calligraphy. Because it was written so well, it was highly prized; even after the person died, their spirit remained attached to it. After the copyist died, someone else acquired the scroll, remounted it, artificially aged it, and claimed it was the poetess's original work. That’s how it began to circulate.

"Subsequent collectors mostly believed it was genuine. Over these four hundred years, the scroll was saturated with the power of that belief, and the attached spirit became twisted by it, believing itself to be the poetess. It could even write fine poetry—though, of course, not as good as the historical figure.

"This scroll came into my hands about twenty years ago. The incense offerings were cut off for seventeen years before the spirit finally broke its chains and returned to the netherworld. But that belief—that part which didn't belong to it but which it accepted—remained on the scroll. Most of the spirit-ghosts I sell here come about in this way."

The owner placed the scroll back on the shelf and said earnestly, "If you were just buying a female ghost to play with, I wouldn't tell you this, because that only continuously dilutes the spirit-ghost's purity until it eventually disappears, which causes no harm. But if you truly intend to raise a spirit-ghost, you must nurture it through the correct process. If you raise it incorrectly, it will surely harm both you and others."

Feng Xue nodded gently, but another term surfaced in his mind: "False Deity?"

Hearing Feng Xue utter those two words, the shopkeeper nodded. "Exactly. In terms of results, a spirit-ghost can be considered a kind of False Deity. However, unlike a False Deity condensed purely from belief, a spirit-ghost is ultimately born from a ghost. Compared to a False Deity that acts strictly according to its programming, a spirit-ghost possesses human complexity. While it has advantages like being untainted by karma, not depleting one's merit, and having excellent intelligence, it is not without its downsides. If you provide for a False Deity with a loyal nature, it will never betray you regardless of what happens. But if you choose a spirit-ghost, you must be careful, because at its core, it might just be a treacherous villain disguised as a loyal soul."