Chapter 122: Jingxiu and Zhaoxiu

The purple-clad female ghost cradled her own severed head against her chest and suddenly erupted into laughter. Foul, viscous blood gushed from her severed neck and facial orifices like a spring bursting from the earth—a ceaseless, horrifying sight.

The entire sequence unfolded in an instant.

She raised her severed head high and thrust it right into Chen Heng’s face! The veins on her face coiled and twitched, contorting into a hideous, spiteful mask. Her pupils had vanished, leaving only ghastly, rolling whites that seemed ready to pop from their sockets.

Simultaneously, a swarm of ghosts surged forward from all sides. A host of terrifying shadows—some twisted, some hateful, some dripping with gore—surrounded him, their yin energy so oppressive it made one’s hair stand on end and skin crawl.

"Aren't you hungry, young master? Why don't you feast on this bloody offering?!" Ziying shrieked with a shrill laugh, her black hair dancing like serpents. The surrounding evil spirits bared their fangs and brandished their claws, whipping up a gale of mournful, foggy yin winds.

"My thanks for your kindness, Lady Ziying, but as I am a Jing-cultivator, I have no need for blood-flesh."

Amidst the howling and pressing of these vengeful souls and evil spirits, Chen Heng stood his ground with calm indifference, his figure not trembling in the slightest. He merely gazed faintly at the head-clutching ghost before him, his eyes as still and deep as an ancient well.

For a moment, Ziying felt her heart falter under that steady gaze. She sheepishly withdrew her raised hands, pulling her head back into her arms.

"Lady Ziying is naturally beautiful; why demean yourself with such displays? It is a pity to see, truly." He smiled slightly. "I am a man who cherishes beauty above all else; I cannot bear to watch a lady treat herself so harshly. Please, do not be so mischievous."

Chen Heng retrieved a silk handkerchief from his sleeve and reached out with a faint smile. Seeing that face, with its features as exquisite as a painting, lean toward him, even Ziying, despite her lingering doubts, felt her cheeks burn. She quickly reattached her head to her neck and sheepishly accepted the handkerchief.

In this world, ghosts are divided into "Spirit Ghosts" and "Turbid Ghosts," depending on whether they possess sentience. Spirit Ghosts are rooted in the preservation of their true nature; they have cast aside delusion, retained their essence, and achieved a state of pure form. They can read, understand civilization, grasp customs, and comprehend the balance of yin and yang. Such ghosts are essentially no different from the living.

As for Turbid Ghosts, like the villagers gathered in the market, their spirits remain unopened. They are hollow, mindless, and lack strategic intelligence. Their behavior is absurd and erratic, much like beasts.

Within the cultivation of the Nether Ghost Path, there exists a distinction between "Zhao-cultivators" and "Jing-cultivators." Zhao-cultivators enjoy consuming the blood and flesh of living beings to enhance their power and nourish their dharma. They gather the qi of the Three Punishments and Seven Killings, accumulating the Five Evils to reach the primordial realm and manifest immense, vengeful supernatural powers.

Jing-cultivators, conversely, adhere to the principle of "Refining the Micro-Essence into One." They guard the Three-Ones and the Gengshen day, containing their true spirit and essence. They harvest the refined qi of heaven and earth externally while refining their innate primordial qi internally, aiming to harmonize qi with form, detaching from all worldly things. Their ultimate goal is the realm of "Great Freedom and Great Liberation," where they are untethered by yin and yang, and eventually, even the form itself can be forgotten.

Only sentient Spirit Ghosts can practice the Nether Ghost Path, choosing between the paths of "Zhao" or "Jing," progressing from ghost to zhi, from zhi to xi, and from xi to yi...

Since the purple-clad woman had descended from her sedan, she had been shrouded in a lingering stench of blood, and given the pile of hearts and spleens on her tray, she was clearly a "Zhao-cultivator" who fed on blood. Chen Heng had intended to kill her along with Yan Ping, but the mention of the name Xu Zhi—as one of the "meat goods"—forced him to suppress his killing intent and play along with Ziying.

Elsewhere, Ziying’s heart was in turmoil. Though Chen Heng’s aura was undeniably that of a ghost, she could not discount the possibility that he was a righteous immortal cultivator who had infiltrated the abyss using some transformative technique. After all, several high-grade "meat goods" had already been captured. The reason she had manifested her hideous form earlier was to shatter his composure; only yesterday, she had used this tactic to terrify a Foundation Establishment cultivator who had masked his aura, forcing him to lose his guard and reveal his true nature. Even the most resilient person would be shaken by a blood-drenched face suddenly appearing inches from their own, and that split-second hesitation was enough for ghosts to sense the scent of the living.

Yet, the man before her remained entirely unperturbed. Not only was he calm, but he had used the opportunity to tease her, leaving Ziying flustered and her heart fluttering.

"Young master, my Mistress Yue is about to be wed. If you have no other plans, why not come to the manor for a cup of wine?" After a moment of thought, Ziying curled her lips into a smile. "Since you are new to these parts, you must pay your respects to the two elders of the Ghost Path. After the wedding banquet, I shall personally ask Mistress Yue to introduce you. How does that sound?"

"When is your mistress’s wedding?" Chen Heng asked after a brief contemplation.

"Three days from now. It shall not interfere with your important matters," Ziying said coquettishly. "I do not boast, but a man of your refined character would surely please Lord Shanhupo and Lady Feihua. Once you have earned their favor, not only will your future be bright, but you will never have to worry about resources for your cultivation again."

"It is just... I have no worldly possessions and fear I have no valuable wedding gift to offer Mistress Yue." Chen Heng feigned hesitation with a sigh.

His words further dispelled Ziying’s doubts. If this man were truly an immortal cultivator, he would never dare to risk entering the manor for a wedding banquet, let alone seek an introduction to the two great elders—that would be walking straight into a tiger's den.

*He has no wealth and is a stranger... he must be a newly manifested Spirit Ghost born from the turbid yin,* Ziying thought. If so, his claim of being a "Jing-cultivator" who eschews blood was likely true. After all, most newborn Spirit Ghosts had not yet tasted the exquisite pleasure of blood; even she had lived on a vegetarian diet for years after gaining sentience.

Seeing the tension leave Ziying’s brow, Chen Heng lowered his eyelids, feeling a sense of relief. He had learned of the distinctions between Turbid and Spirit Ghosts, and the paths of "Zhao" and "Jing," from an obscure, esoteric text. However, successfully deceiving this ghost was largely due to his "Dispelling Form and Concealing Essence" technique.

*I wonder if it is the same name, or truly Senior Brother Xu Zhi... It seems I must investigate personally to solve this mystery,* Chen Heng thought, shaking his head.

Ziying was now directing her ghost servants to carry off the limbless Yan Ping, as casually as if he were a side of pork. Yan Ping’s severed limbs were distributed by Ziying with visible disgust to the Turbid Ghosts in the village, sparking a frantic, greedy struggle. It was a strange sight; though these Turbid Ghosts were far stronger than Ziying’s group—strong enough that even Chen Heng felt a sense of caution—they treated Ziying as their master, suppressing their ferocity and obeying her every command.

Seeing Chen Heng’s curiosity, Ziying did not offer an explanation but smiled softly and invited him into the sedan. With his mind set on finding the truth about Xu Zhi, Chen Heng did not refuse. He smiled, parted the silk curtains with Ziying, and took his seat. With a shout from the ghosts, a cold, mournful wind rose, and the golden sedan lifted into the air, speeding toward the depths of the abyss.

About half an hour later, before the sedan had even touched the ground, Ziying’s face was already flushed crimson. Her eyes were watery and misted, and she seemed restless. To uncover the truth about Xu Zhi, Chen Heng had suppressed his usual nature, playing the role of a suave, free-spirited rogue to extract information from her. Though he had never practiced such arts, he was not ignorant of the dynamics between men and women. Within a few exchanges, Ziying was blushing and flustered, revealing much more than she intended.

*This young master is so handsome, a one-in-a-million find. If I could be with him, even if I were to die again, it would be worth it!* she thought to herself.

Just then, the ghost bearers shouted in unison, smoothing out the yin wind to descend. They were near the manor. Although Mistress Yue was not highly favored, she was still the descendant of Lord Shanhupo and Lady Feihua. Her estate was guarded by dozens of powerful ghosts, with many servants to handle the chores. Looking down, one could see a vast, gloomy estate. Corridors and pavilions stretched out, with fences, stone bridges, grass-roofed towers, and bell towers—all was present.

"Wait!" Ziying suddenly remembered something. She lifted the curtain and ordered, "Do not go to the manor yet. Turn around and take the young master to the human pen first!"

"The human pen?" The ghosts looked over, their eyes gleaming white, saliva dripping from their jaws.

"This young master is a Jing-cultivator; he does not eat blood-flesh..." a pot-bellied ghost laughed, leaning greedily toward the curtain. "Dear girl, are you taking pity on our labor and letting us have a feast? I heard the Mistress caught several immortal cultivators from outside the abyss, from some 'Xuanzhen Sect'?"

"Give us one! Let us have one to taste! The flesh of a cultivator is so tender and springy! Kind girl, if you grant us this favor, we shall be grateful to you forever!"

Encouraged by the lead, and tempted by the prospect of cultivator flesh, the ghosts began to clamor, their vicious nature surfacing. Ziying tried to persuade them with soft words, but the noise only grew louder, drowning her out. Finally, her expression sharpened, and her eyes turned cold. She reached out like lightning, grabbed the loudest ghost, and with a squeeze, crushed its head.

There was no blood; only a burst of yin energy that swirled and dissipated into the ether. A wisp of that energy drifted toward Chen Heng. He sensed it, and his previously indifferent eyes grew solemn, even showing a hint of joy. *So that is how it works? No... this is exactly how it should be!* Chen Heng thought.

After destroying the instigator, Ziying stood up, blood flowing from her eyes, and walked toward the ghost bearers, surrounded by a chilling wind. "What kind of base trash are you, to think you deserve to eat a cultivator's flesh? Do you wish to lose your lives?" She shrieked, "If you dare to clamor again, I will serve you as snacks for our guests! I was just worrying about having enough dishes for the wedding banquet! Do not seek your own deaths!"

The ghosts dared not look up, shivering like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. When Ziying turned back to see Chen Heng watching her with a smile, she blushed and quickly wiped the pus and blood from her face. "Young master, I am not usually like this; it is just these wretched ghosts..." Her voice trailed off until it was a mere whisper.

*She is around the second level of Foundation Establishment, much like Yan Ping. She would not be hard to kill,* Chen Heng thought. But his expression remained calm. "Not at all. I naturally believe you, Lady Ziying."

The purple-clad ghost whimpered, covering her face with her sleeve, unable to meet his gaze.

The sedan circled the human pen. Seeing Chen Heng remain composed amidst the wailing, showing no sympathy beyond the typical disdain a Jing-cultivator holds for blood-flesh, Ziying felt her heart settle. She happily invited Chen Heng into the manor and settled him in a quiet room, though she did not forget to post several powerful ghosts at the door—ostensibly as guards, but truly as a precaution.

That night, in the human pen, Yu Wanchou’s mind suddenly cleared. She opened her eyes, seeing only a hazy blur. She let out a low, miserable laugh, trying to struggle to her feet, but realized her arms had been severed. The agonizing pain caused tears to well up.

"Senior Sister Yu, I have just given you a Blood-Nourishing Pill to seal your wounds. It is best not to move," a voice came from the darkness. "Fortunately, you have already established your Dao Foundation, and your body is stronger than a normal person’s, or I would have been helpless."

"You..." After a long time, Yu Wanchou realized the voice was real. "Is it you?" She looked up, tears flowing again. "Chen Heng, how were you also captured by the ghosts and thrown into this pen?"