Chapter 120: The Morning Joy Fan

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Tea houses and wine shops bustled with activity, selling meat and boiled fish.

Though the cramped and squalid gambling dens along the yellow-mud path were filthy, they were exceptionally rowdy, packed so tightly with people that not a breath of air could pass. Several idlers and vagabonds who could not secure a seat hung onto the window lattices with their arms, stretching their necks in a frantic scramble to peek inside.

Once the dice were cast on the tables within, they would react as if they were the ones playing, sometimes letting out wild shouts, other times cursing, their expressions lost in a state of obsessive delirium.

There were men carrying shoulder poles, flower sellers, mat weavers, and candy blowers.

A peddler, his feet caked in filth, shouted energetically to hawk the rouge and powder in his pack. A traveling troupe performed street-level illusionist tricks, drawing a dense, cheering crowd that roared with approval.

Several young children and a yellow dog played beneath the large weeping willow at the village entrance, their clothes covered in layers of dust.

The place was teeming with people, the air filled with a deafening clamor...

Standing on a small hill dotted with grave mounds and looking out from afar, it appeared exactly like a common village marketplace in the mortal world, filled with young and old, bustling with life.

Yet, let alone the heavy, damp miasma of the Earth Abyss—which made it difficult even for cultivators to dwell there for long—the very prosperity of this mortal village felt utterly out of place in such an陰地 (necrotic land), like a melon floating in water.

As Chen Heng observed closely, after a careful examination, he discerned something amiss.

Though the village marketplace was lively and filled with many people, everyone’s complexion was wretchedly pale. The skin visible from their robes showed faint, purplish-red lividity.

Moreover, the look deep within their eyes was stiff and vacant.

All the laughter and anger they displayed were merely painted on the surface.

It was as if someone had used fine brushwork to paint masks onto a clay statue; while it appeared vibrant on the outside, the essence within remained nothing but rotten wood and yellow earth.

The small hill where Chen Heng stood was not far from the village, yet strangely, none of the villagers seemed to notice him; they were as if blind to his presence.

"It seems I have encountered a ghost village," Chen Heng mused to himself.

The origins of the Earth Abyss were unknown.

Some said this place led straight down to the boundless netherworld, suppressing a tributary of the Yellow Springs, and served as the place of reincarnation for all cultivators of the Xu Capital, guarded by divine soldiers and heavenly generals.

Others claimed the Earth Abyss was the accumulated waste of the desolate wastelands from the ancient eras, piled up here.

After all, the mystical abilities of the great immortals of the Dao were immeasurable; they could pluck stars and suns from the sky or shift seas and mountains. If they were to fight among themselves, shattering an entire continent and then recreating it would not be a difficult task...

However, regardless of the claims, this region was dense with necrotic energy, which had bred countless spirits and ghosts.

The deeper one went, the more dangerous it became...

Yan Ping was, at the very least, a Foundation Establishment cultivator of the second layer, having reached the realm of "Size at Will."

Even though he had been wounded by Chen Heng’s own Innate Great Sun Divine Light and had been fleeing ever since without time to heal, he still possessed some combat capability. Otherwise, he would not have been able to keep Chen Heng in pursuit for three full days.

Yet now, he was tied to a meat block like livestock, his limbs removed, his fate—life or death—unknown. It was a miserable and wretched sight.

The situation before him was unclear, and this was the first time Chen Heng had encountered such a scene.

He stroked his sleeve and pondered for a moment before taking a beautiful folding fan from his Universe Bag and gripping it in his palm.

This fan, known as the "Morning Joy Fan," was a gift from Xie Tan of the Flower God Mansion during their time at Floating Jade Lake. Though it belonged to the category of "strange and lascivious" crafts, it was ranked among the mid-grade talisman artifacts.

The fan was painted with twelve beauties; by casting a spell, one could summon them. They would appear no different from real people and could be put to any use for three hours without issue.

After three hours, their forms would fade, and they would return to the fan's surface.

Even if they were killed, because a strand of their divine essence remained stored within the fan, one only needed to wait three days and consume some fetal breath energy to manifest the deceased beauty once more.

The beauties on the Morning Joy Fan were intended for the union of yin and yang. Since cultivators often possessed superior blood and physical constitutions unlike commoners, there was a fear that they might be too rough. Thus, the creator of the fan had specifically enhanced the physical bodies of the twelve beauties.

The physique of each beauty was as hard as metal or stone, yet as soft as clouds; even an ordinary Foundation Establishment second-layer cultivator—one at the "Size at Will" realm—would be far inferior.

If these twelve were to charge in formation on horseback, no legendary mortal general would be a match for even a single exchange.

Even without any Daoist arts or secret techniques, they could easily topple cities and slaughter armies.

Such ready-to-use puppets were perfect for Chen Heng to use to risk danger and probe the truth of the ghost village ahead.

He silently recited a spell and, a moment later, pointed randomly at one of the figures on the Morning Joy Fan.

With a charming, light laugh, a mist of spiritual light hung in the air. After a few seconds, the light swirled and descended to the ground, transforming into a bewitching beauty.

She stood gracefully under an old tree, her face as lovely as a flower, her form elegant and jade-like. She wore only a robe as thin as cicada wings, which accentuated her slender waist and curvaceous figure.

One look was enough to ignite a fire in a man's heart, making him want to pull her into his arms to cherish and ignore all else.

"I am Chu Niang, greetings to you, my lord. I wonder—"

"No need for formalities. The ghost village ahead is quite strange. Please, probe its reality for me."

Chen Heng waved his hand, interrupting the beautiful woman's bow, and spoke.

"My lord?"

The beautiful woman who called herself Chu Niang had not finished her sentence, and she could not continue.

She stiffly raised her head, her apricot eyes filled with disbelief, her heart pounding wildly.

After a long while, she spoke in a strange tone:

"What did my lord just say... Am I hard of hearing? Could you please repeat yourself?"

"Probe the reality of the ghost village ahead for me."

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Chen Heng swept a cold glance at her:

"Well?"

"..."

Chu Niang froze, her small mouth slightly agape. For a moment, the look she cast at Chen Heng was filled with complexity.

Since he had obtained the Morning Joy Fan, he had never once used it. Today, having finally brought it out, Chu Niang had thought the young man had finally become enlightened and understood the pleasures of life.

She had not expected this.

He had summoned her only to send her to her death...

Seeing Chu Niang stunned and standing stiffly in place without moving, Chen Heng frowned and said:

"Why do you hesitate? Was I not clear enough?"

"No, it is not that..."

Chu Niang shook her head, bit her cherry lips, and tucked a strand of cloud-like hair behind her ear with her left hand.

She looked at Chen Heng, a blush instantly flooding her cheeks, and nodded, saying daintily:

"I understand. I will do my best and certainly not fail my lord's commission."

"Once inside the ghost village, if possible, kill the person tied to the meat block first."

Chen Heng was long accustomed to such looks; unmoved, he only said:

"I leave it to you."

Chu Niang shrugged her shoulders slightly, nodded shyly, and accepted the task.

The moment she stepped into the ghost village, the previously bustling and lively marketplace instantly fell silent, as if a drop of thick ink had been dripped into clear water.

It was jarring and out of place.

The villagers instantly took on the appearance of vengeful ghosts!

They swarmed forward.

In an instant, they tore Chu Niang to pieces!

Let alone killing Yan Ping on the meat block, she had not even walked three steps before she was ripped apart by the group of ghosts.

That physical body, which surpassed even a second-layer Foundation Establishment cultivator, was of no use!

After tearing Chu Niang to shreds, the ferocious, malevolent expressions on the ghosts vanished instantly, as if nothing had happened...

The peddlers continued to shout their wares, and the traveling troupe continued their tricks.

Even the children, who had just been bleeding from their seven orifices with their guts spilled out, now had rosy cheeks and continued to roll around with the yellow dog...

"What ferocious ghosts!"

Chen Heng’s heart skipped a beat.

Seeing them act like puppets, following only predetermined instructions, clearly lacking intelligence or sentient awareness, a faint idea formed in his mind.

At this moment, the image of Chu Niang on the Morning Joy Fan had dimmed slightly.

Even when he tried casting the spell again, it remained motionless, unable to summon her.

Chen Heng knew it would take three days before he could manifest her again. After one more failed attempt, he stopped worrying about it and simply chose another beauty to summon.

She could not make it past three steps before being easily torn apart by the ghosts.

Seeing this, Chen Heng did not hesitate and summoned another, ordering her to walk into the ghost village...

The fourth one.

...

The fifth one.

...

The sixth one.

...

When most of the twelve beauties on the Morning Joy Fan had been killed, Chen Heng put the fan away, lowered his eyes, and began to ponder.

These ghosts were extremely fierce and stubborn; even if he entered personally, he would gain nothing.

He feared that the sound of a struggle might attract even more powerful specters.

By then, he would truly be in mortal danger...

The reason he had sent the beauties from the Morning Joy Fan into the marketplace was not just to have them die in vain.

Firstly, he wanted to test the intelligence of the ghosts.

Secondly, he wanted to capture a trace of the necrotic energy from these ghosts to simulate their aura using the "Scattered Scene and Concealed Form Technique" to deceive them.

...

"Fortunately, although these ghosts are fierce, their intelligence is very low. They only guard their own little patch of ground. They don't even show hostility as long as one doesn't enter the village entrance."

Chen Heng twisted a wisp of the ghost aura he had gathered from the beauties in his hand. After practicing the "Scattered Scene and Concealed Form Technique" several times,

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and ensuring his own aura had blended seamlessly with that of the ghosts in the marketplace, he swung his sleeve and strode toward the group of ghosts.

The moment he stepped into the village entrance, an indescribably eerie atmosphere enveloped him!

It felt as if he had fallen beside a slumbering giant beast; the slightest noise would wake it and reveal its blood-stained maw!

Chilling winds blew, weaving back and forth, desolate and bleak.

As he approached, the ghosts, previously busy with their activities, all paused for a split second, their noses twitching as if dogs catching a scent.

However, the "Scattered Scene and Concealed Form Technique" was no ordinary profound art. After a few moments of confusion, they stopped reacting and continued with their own affairs, ignoring Chen Heng entirely.

"It is fortunate that these ghosts have low intelligence... and do not harbor hostility toward their own kind?"

Seeing this, Chen Heng felt relieved and let out a long breath.

He walked toward Yan Ping on the meat block. Along the way, he tried to speak to a few ghosts, but they ignored him completely.

"Old man?"

The owner of the meat shop was a shirtless butcher, roughly sixty years old, burly and fat. His graying beard reached his chest, stained with tiny, scattered specks of fresh, red meat, making it look incredibly disheveled.

Hearing Chen Heng’s voice, he did not look up, continuing to rub his hands together while muttering to himself.

"He truly has a tough life. Even in this state, he still has a breath left."

On the meat block, Yan Ping, whose limbs had been removed, was unconscious but still alive.

He had carried many secret protective treasures. It was thanks to these that he had not only managed to escape for three days but also, at this moment, managed to hang onto a single thread of life.

Just as Chen Heng raised his hand to finish him off,

Suddenly, the butcher, who had been vacant, changed his expression. He swiftly reached out, shielding Yan Ping’s torso as if protecting his food.

"Blood-food for Lord Shanhutong, youngster... don't eat!"

He mumbled deep in his throat:

"The Lady of the Mansion is getting married; the best blood-food is all for Lord Shanhutong!"

He let out a roar as if to intimidate, and at this sound, all the ghosts turned their heads.

Chilling winds, from who knows where, blew through, freezing to the bone! It made one's scalp tingle!

Chen Heng’s gaze darkened slightly.

Seeing that Chen Heng stood by the meat block and was not scared off, the butcher made another guttural sound deep in his throat.

He stretched out his large, mat-like hand, paused for a moment, then slowly took Yan Ping’s left leg from an iron hook, weighed it, and threw it at Chen Heng’s feet.

"Alas, come eat!"

The butcher hissed:

"Go! Go!"

Countless pale eyeballs snapped toward him. The group of ghosts stirred, and in an instant, Chen Heng felt a wave of malice wash over him.

It felt as if the moment he reached out to touch the severed limb near Yan Ping,

He would be torn to pieces by the ghosts!

"It seems I can only fight my way out..."

Facing this sudden situation, a look of gravity appeared in Chen Heng’s eyes. Just as he raised his sleeve, ready to strike,

A soft sound of stringed music suddenly resonated in the air, clear and ringing, accompanied by wafts of fragrance.

"Lord Shanhutong..."

The butcher made another guttural sound in his throat, quickly covering his face with his hands and lowering his head.

All the ghosts were terrified, wailing and screeching as if they had suddenly gained intelligence, filled with newfound fear.

...

...

In a vast and sprawling residence.

Song Rupo, who had failed to escape his forced marriage once again, was pinned to the ground by several large ghosts and bound tightly, unable to move even a finger.

"The Young Lady is the descendant of Lord Shanhutong; the groom is truly ungrateful."

A long-tongued ghost dressed as a head maid giggled, floating into the air, and said:

"You have already annoyed the Young Lady. If there is a next time, the Young Lady will have me put the groom into the Cinnabar Cauldron to fry him for a bit before letting him out."

"I don't want to marry! I don't want to have children!"

Song Rupo said with a mournful face, struggling desperately on the ground:

"Everyone has clearly already turned into ghosts; why is there still male-female romance? Is this reasonable? How can this make any sense?!"