Chen Qing sat back down on the carpet to cultivate.
Just thinking of Chenxi turned his stomach.
What kind of crap had been smeared over his heart last life, to have fallen for a piece of work like that!
But cultivation mattered more right now. He reined in his thoughts and settled cross-legged again.
Cultivation couldn't be rushed—but the Blood Moon drew nearer by the day, and once he'd learned the Black Prison Ghost-Pact Art there was still a mountain of things to do. He had to pick up the pace.
"Chen Qing, can you take me out to play today?"
Chen Man had come over.
"Uh..." Chen Qing thought a moment, then shook his head. "How about you let those big brothers play with you?"
He pressed the service bell as he spoke.
Chen Qing wanted to enjoy this soon-to-vanish ease too.
But he couldn't.
"Then I won't go." Chen Man's face was blank as he shook his head. Whether there was disappointment in it, no one could say.
Time slipped by, and it was the dead of night.
Chen Qing slowly rose to his feet and pointed a finger at a teapot.
"Black Prison!"
A surge of black qi abruptly enveloped Chen Qing and the teapot.
The next moment, the two of them appeared inside a black space.
The space was circular, without walls, wrapped in something like mist, something like tentacles—hazy and deeply unreal.
The teapot lay quietly by his feet; he gave it a careless kick and it rolled about.
Once you sealed a ghost into the Black Prison, either one of you died, or the ghost submitted—only then, with the two souls unified, would the Black Prison lift. Most terrifying of all, the Black Prison Ghost-Pact Art's valid targets seemed to be more than just ghosts!
This was Chen Qing's trump card against the pagoda's Ghost King.
Force it to choose!
Either kill him—and since he was the pagoda's master, that meant mutual destruction.
Or submit to him!
Last life, in the second Blood Moon, the Ghost King had suddenly turned traitor, and in that instant the whole city's order collapsed.
Chen Qing would not, of course, sit by and let it happen again.
So he was going to gamble!
Gamble that this Ghost King would submit to him.
Right now the Black Prison held only Chen Qing, a single living thing, so he could lift it anytime.
With a thought, Chen Qing dissolved the Black Prison.
Suddenly!
The necklace stirred!
"Jin Bu~huan, Jin Buhuan, Jin Buhuan!~"
Utterly out of nowhere, Jin Buhuan's voice rang out.
"Jin Bu~huan, Jin Buhuan, Jin Buhuan!~"
Gaunt and stunted, dressed in filthy rags, hauling its giant sack, Jin Buhuan appeared in the room.
The ghost energy-level detector on Chen Qing's wrist trembled hard, its readout leaping like mad!
First-tier Wandering Soul, second-tier, fourth-tier...
In an instant the number shot to fifth-tier Wandering Soul,
Seventh-tier!
Tenth-tier Wandering Soul!
First-tier Malevolent Ghost!
Third-tier Malevolent Ghost!
"Jin Bu~huan, Jin Buhuan, Jin Buhuan!"
Jin Buhuan suddenly leapt onto the teapot that had rolled to the floor.
As if plunging into water, its form vanished.
And the teapot had become a gold pot.
"..."
Chen Qing was speechless!
Pick a cabinet, a TV, something!
Why pick a teapot?!
How much could something this small even sell for?
Jin Buhuan was a Repayment Ghost, and last life Chen Qing had indeed shown kindness to many.
But this life, he truly couldn't guess who he'd shown kindness to.
Turning it over a while with no answer, he let it go.
He picked up the Kunwu Saber and went downstairs.
He could finally go collect ghosts!
It was two in the morning; plenty of taxis about.
Chen Qing hailed one, and an hour later reached the outskirts north of the city.
Faint ghostly sobbing carried on the air, thick with yin qi; even in high summer the hairs on his body stood on end.
Chen Qing drew a deep breath.
He drew the saber and moved slowly forward.
Ten minutes, half an hour...
Soon Chen Qing frowned.
There were far too few ghosts!
Unlike after the Blood Moon, when ghosts covered the ground, right now their density and strength were both far too low; he'd walked a good while without meeting a single one.
He checked the ghost meter—that is, the ghost energy-level detector.
The concentrations around him differed a little.
So Chen Qing left the main road entirely, using the ghost meter as a compass, and moved slowly toward where the yin qi was thickest.
He hopped a ditch, cut through a weed field, skirted a fish pond...
And in the distance, saw a little house.
The necklace trembled faintly.
Here it was!
His grip on the saber tightened.
Chen Qing looked toward that little house.
It was tiny, no more than four meters on a side, flat-roofed.
Probably used to store a walk-behind tractor and other farm tools; rusty hoes and shovels hung on the wall, the rust staining a whole patch of it iron-red.
Chen Qing slowly circled to the front.
And saw a figure.
Crouched inside the house, hacking at something with a sickle... a slipper.
The ghost meter trembled faintly.
A number surfaced: 6.
First-tier Wandering Soul.
The lowest rank of ghost!
Almost harmless to humans.
A first-tier Wandering Soul generally acts on instinct—muddled, dazed, uncomprehending.
A ghost like this was useless to a Ghost Master, but for Chen Qing it was perfect!
A Ghost King's strength was directly tied to the twelve ghosts it suppressed.
The weaker the twelve ghosts, the weaker the Ghost King, and the greater his chances of the pact!
Once he'd pacted the Ghost King, he could swap these weak ghosts out again.
Chen Qing didn't actually know how to take a ghost into the pagoda; he could only try.
"Store!"
Clang, clatter...
A din of metal—a pile of hoes and shovels was drawn into the Demon-Suppressing Pagoda.
But this ghost... didn't budge.
Sensing the disturbance, the ghost stood up.
Blue-white skin, a gaunt frame.
Its striped shirt read "Ximing Psychiatric Hospital." Red underwear—yes, no trousers.
Two socks on one foot, none on the other.
Only one slipper on—the other slipper it had already killed.
Its two eyes worked independently, one standing guard, one on lookout, each watching a different direction.
"..."
This was a Mad Ghost...
Chen Qing paused, then, without hesitation, tried again: "Store!"
Still nothing.
The Mad Ghost cocked its head, one eye sizing up Chen Qing, the other studying the ground.
After a moment's thought, Chen Qing hurled out the Demon-Suppressing Pagoda with a single will!
"Grow!"
The half-cigarette-sized pagoda abruptly became five meters tall!
With a thunderous crash, it crushed the little house and the ghost together to powder!
Dust flew up.
Chen Qing stepped clear and smiled.
He could feel this Mad Ghost had been drawn into the pagoda!
"Come out!"
The Mad Ghost appeared before Chen Qing.
Not a whit different from before—one eye to the sky, one eye on Chen Qing.
"Kneel."
The Mad Ghost knelt.
"Jump!"
The Mad Ghost jumped.
"Run!"
The Mad Ghost began to run.
He tested its strength too—extremely weak.
About the build of an ordinary person, but its strength was probably only equal to Chen Man's.
"First one, done!"
Chen Qing looked at the ghost meter again and, bit by bit, moved toward a region of even thicker yin qi.
About ten minutes.
The necklace trembled faintly.
"Whoo~"
"Slurp, slurp, slurp... slurp, slurp, slurp..."
A sound like a pig at its trough.
Chen Qing gripped the saber and slowly neared a fetid ditch.
It was a ditch that had been stagnating for years.
Something was churning in it, and the stench rose up, stinging his eyes.
At last Chen Qing saw the ghost.
A body about the size of a dog—human head, dog's body, festering all over—digging up the black muck from the very bottom of the ditch and stuffing it into its mouth, slurp slurp slurp.
First-tier Wandering Soul.
A Latrine Ghost—also called a Shit-Eating Ghost.