Chen Xu stared at the entry in front of him:
[Fragmented Spiritual Cicada Jade Robe, a spiritual object hidden within the faint.
The fore-hide of the pseudo-immortal level Spiritual Cicada can be taken and bathed in the morning sun’s violet air for three quarters of an hour, after which one can use the cicada robe as paper to write queries for divination.
Divination can be performed once every ten days.
After simmering and melting with the Spirit Roasting Eight Techniques, and adding supplementary materials to make a medicinal porridge, it can be consumed to potentially gain basic level jade robe divine power, impervious to water and fire, invincible to blades and spears.
Note: The Spirit Roasting Eight Techniques can be learned through Condensing Pill, but fragmented pseudo-immortal level and above jade robes are limited to consumption by Spiritual Cuisine Apprentices and above grades.]
The content of the entry shocked Chen Xu for a moment.
There was too much important information within the entry, he actually didn’t know what to focus on first.
[Fore-hide of the pseudo-immortal level Spiritual Cicada], in the end, Chen Xu looked at this sentence first.
What is pseudo-immortal level?
Chen Xu remembered many seniors he had encountered, some said there were no immortals in the world, others said although there were immortals living in the world, they were mortals in form, with a lifespan of no more than a thousand or eight hundred—
No, those who live for a thousand or eight hundred were not immortals, they can only be said to be cultivators with high cultivation.
Then, what truly defines an immortal?
To what extent does one need to reach to be called pseudo-immortal level or true immortal level?
And why would this fragment of a Spiritual Cicada Jade Robe appear in the ghost market?
Looking again at the four words [spiritual object hidden within the faint], Chen Xu surmised that this item appeared on the ghost market stall instead of being treasured and used by some prominent figure, probably because of its "hidden within the faint" nature.
So, now presented before him was a pseudo-immortal level fragment whose use was unknown! Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn Nove1Fire.net
His heart was in turmoil, yet his expression showed not the slightest change.
He had encountered too many astonishing things lately, if not for his strong ability to control his expressions, he might be startled into abruptness every day and wouldn’t know when he’s harmed himself.
Chen Xu selected two items from this stall; one was this fragmented Spiritual Cicada Jade Robe, the other a rust-red short dagger.
This dagger surprisingly also had an entry:
[Ghost Blood Blade, a blade forged by sacrificing evil spirits and human demons, when used for killing, it drinks human blood and inflicts the evil wind disease upon its target.
Boiled in water with supplementary materials, it can be turned into Soul Calming Soup, pacifying the souls of fierce ghosts.]
The ghost market stall indeed had top-notch items, it only depended on if you could choose them or afford to buy them.
The ghostly stallholder behind the stall was remarkably short, his voice hoarse and slightly immature.
"Mud Embryo Pill won’t buy my blade, I need a good poem from you."
Chen Xu said, "A good poem is not always readily available, trying to force one might not make it a good poem."
The short ghostly stallholder stubbornly said, "Then why not listen to my story? Maybe listening you might be inspired to write."
"And if I still can’t write anything out of it?"
"If you can’t write now, then leave it for later." The ghost’s tone was somewhat aggrieved, and he added, "If one day you manage to write it, come seek me, or even burn the poem for me.
Burning it for me is good too."
The last sentence, the voice dropped gradually.
Hearing this, Chen Xu couldn’t help but say, "Listening to your words, there must have been great suffering in your story.
Tell me, I’ll certainly listen carefully."
At least willing to listen earnestly, the ghostly stallholder immediately perked up and said, "I, I don’t even know if it was suffering."
He began to tell his story.
"My dad was a poor scholar, my mom was a rich merchant’s daughter."
The opening sentence from the ghostly stallholder already grabbed attention.
Poor scholar and rich merchant’s daughter, just these two identities conjure up thousands of words of love and hate, right from the imagination.
Yet Chen Xu evidently underestimated the typical and brutal nature of this story.
The story began with the rich merchant’s daughter marrying the poor scholar, a typical investment move.
Five years later, she bore a son, and the poor scholar became a Scholar.
Both family businesses were thriving, and the investment seemed promising.
Thus, as the son of a Scholar, the ghostly stallholder spent his childhood in days of luxury.
Another five years later, the Scholar frequently took the imperial exams but could never pass as an Advanced Scholar.
Unwilling to give up, he pleaded the Yue Family to stake everything to support his next step.
The Yue Family refused.
The following year, during an outing for business, the Yue Family met with mountain bandits and perished.
The ghostly stallholder said, "After my maternal grandfather passed, within just three days, my eldest uncle died from grief, catching a cold; my youngest uncle, grieving by the river for our grandfather, accidentally drowned.
My mother at the time was bedridden, she called me to her side, saying she feared she wouldn’t make it.
She gave me a peculiar little stone, said it was a protective talisman she sought for me, told me to always carry it and never be apart from it.
She instructed me to always remember to be modest and humble at home, not to contradict my father, nor to clash with my father’s concubine’s children.
If there’s a stepmother, to be respectful in all manners to her.
At the time, I was perplexed, my father didn’t even have a concubine, where would there be concubine’s children?"
At this point, the ghostly stallholder’s tone noticeably lowered: "Father indeed didn’t have a concubine, he said he’d remain faithful for my mother, nor had he remarried.
But the next year, he took a concubine, saying it was for my care.
Initially, the concubine genuinely looked after me, she was incredibly tender, treating me with utmost care.
I, I had even sincerely respected her as a senior. Then one day, the concubine told me she was pregnant.
She asked if I’d like the brother she was carrying; I said I surely would love him.
She persuaded me to drink a bowl of soup, that soup was exceedingly sweet, cloyingly so. For fear the concubine might suspect I didn’t like my brother, even though the soup wasn’t to my liking, I still finished it.
And then, I awoke to find myself transformed into a sheep..."
At this, the ghostly stallholder’s voice abruptly paused.
The story grew abruptly horrific.
Indeed, the child in the story was turned into a sheep through the concubine’s use of beast-creating concoctions!
He was sold to a butcher at the market, where the butcher swiftly ended the sheep’s life.
The sheep was then bought, cooked in a pot.
The ghostly stallholder laughed softly: "When I turned into a sheep, I overheard a face-full-of-meat woman tell the concubine, drinking her potion would transform one into a sheep.
Transformed into a sheep, upon slaughter and consumption as a sheep, one would be assumed eaten as a real sheep.
Thereafter even as a ghost, there’d be no human form.
No, one wouldn’t even become a ghost, as for ordinary mortal animals, upon death, the true spirit just disperses.
When I died, it wasn’t actually painful, the butcher’s swift cut left me without breath.
But I didn’t just lose my spirit, I became a ghost, a fierce ghost, a vengeful spirit.
I was so full of hatred, I took the butcher’s knife, driven by resentment rushed back home. I killed my father, the concubine... killed them all, killed them all!"
The ghostly stallholder’s small figure began to hover upwards above the stall, his once somewhat calm tone turned frenzied at some point.
"I killed them, I shed familial blood! But still, I am unsatisfied, I am not satisfied, I couldn’t find that woman.
I want to kill, kill, kill... ah!"
Just as he was about to fly out from the stall, suddenly, something like an invisible barrier atop the stall unleashed a sudden burst of lightning.
The ghostly stallholder let out a cry of pain, was struck down, tumbled back behind the stall.
Even greater agony poured from the depths of his spirit, he struggled and wailed.
Just as he thought this round of suffering would continue for days like before, he suddenly heard the voice beside the stall say: "I’ve killed the dark beings that performed the Beast Creation Technique."