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Chapter 149 – Mysterious Ancient Street of Ghosts Vendors and Undying Husks, Leisurely Fishing by the Creek - Part 2
Taking a few steps farther, Li Yuan noticed another silhouette, someone who had been casually wandering around but suddenly tensed up like a predator catching sight of its prey. Above that silhouette’s head drifted.
「 525~728 」
「 Equipment 1: Tiny Rabbit Sugar Figurine - 3 cash 」
「 Equipment 2: Tiny Ant Sugar Figurine - 4 cash 」
「 Equipment 3: 3-cash 」
Under his mask, Li Yuan’s brows furrowed. He suddenly realized where that still-locked equipment slot he’d seen before in his own status window might lead.
Pang Yuanhua pulled her hood lower.
“Once those people buy something, we can rob them,” she said quietly. “And if the vendor gives them change—well, that’s even better. Either way, both the items and the money are a huge help for us. Especially the money. That’s the key to breaking our curse and letting us return to the normal world.”
“How exactly does that help?” Li Yuan asked.
“In theory, somewhere on this street lies a hidden gateway to a ghost domain. If we can enter it safely, and pay, we can buy our lives back. In other words, we can purchase the wooden doll the carpenter ghost made of us. Once we get that doll, we’re free of the curse.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Other undying husks told me.”
As they strolled past the vendors’ stalls, Li Yuan lowered his voice. “Why not just buy these goods ourselves?”
Pang Yuanhua leaned in. “It costs more than just money. From what I’ve seen, the people who wander in here tend to be extreme in one way or another—villains, desperate souls, twisted personalities, or those consumed by rage or sorrow. It’s like their mental state somehow makes it easier for them to enter. Even so, the odds of stumbling into this place are tiny. But it seems the street connects to the entire Great Zhou, and maybe beyond. So there’s no shortage of unfortunate souls who appear.”
Li Yuan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“Meanwhile, we can leave this place the moment we walk off the street,” Pang Yuanhua continued. “But those who come in by accident can’t leave unless they buy something first. Once they buy, they might receive change in that strange white paper money. That’s the only way we can get our hands on it. So whenever someone new appears, all the undying husks watch them like hawks, waiting for them to buy something. As soon as they do, we go after them. It’s a free-for-all; whoever gets to them first takes the prize. Nobody wants to make extra trouble and risk catching the attention of the ghosts.”
Even as she said this, the three newcomers sauntered brazenly among the stalls. The one called Brother Zheng gave a sneering laugh as he sized up the booths.
“This is it?” he said contemptuously. Used to throwing his weight around, he kicked a stand selling rouge and face powder. “You call this cheap junk worth selling?”
Crash! The stall flew over with a single kick, spilling cheap wooden boxes of rouge all over the ground. The vendor scrambled to pick them up.
The man gave a mocking snort. “So this is the big bad ghost market I was expecting? What a joke.”
He scanned his surroundings. When nobody stepped forward to intervene, his suspicions grew, and he raised his voice. “I don’t know where you all crawled out from, but everything within five kilometers of Mang River Stronghold belongs to me—including these Newsand Mountains. From now on...”
He let out a vicious laugh and stomped on the ground for emphasis. “This right here, this ground, is also mine! Any stall you set up here means you pay me protection fees! You know why it’s called Mang River? It’s named after me, Zheng Mang. Remember that!”
Confident that no one would dare cross him, he glanced back at the woman behind him. She had her arms folded, obviously enjoying the show. Seeing how domineering he looked, she teased, “Come on, no need to get so worked up.”
From their casual swagger, it was clear these three were the local overlord of Mang River Stronghold, accustomed to getting their way. But in truth, they had no idea what they’d just stumbled into.
Pang Yuanhua merely watched in silence.
Even Li Yuan was taken aback at the unexpected situation. Casting his gaze around, he spotted a couple more figures appearing in a nearby alley, each accompanied by several lines of strange floating information. These newcomers seemed to be seventh rank martial artists, though not at the level of a sixth rank, and some of them carried gear or money.
Meanwhile, Zheng Mang, about to leave after tipping over the stall, suddenly felt someone grab his hand.
It was the vendor. Smiling pleasantly, the man said, “Sir, how about buying something?”
Zheng Mang let out a cold snort, yanking his arm. Instantly, shadow blood spread across his hand, unleashing a powerful force that should have blown the vendor’s arm right off.
Yet that power vanished like a stone dropped into the sea.
Stunned, Zheng Mang tried again with even more force, but he still couldn’t break free. Finally, he turned around, only to find the vendor smiling warmly, face utterly serene.
“Sir, how about buying something?” the vendor repeated.
With a roar, Zheng Mang channeled his energy into a spiraling shadowy vortex, twisting the air around his arm as though it were a meat grinder, clearly some kind of special technique.
But the vendor didn’t so much as budge; even his clothes were left intact.
“Y-you... Who are you?” Zheng Mang stammered.
“Sir, how about buying something?” the vendor said again, his tone unchanging.
He tugged Zheng Mang back to the stall as though hauling a helpless chick. Seeing their leader suddenly subdued, the other two were struck dumb.
Zheng Mang’s face went pale. “S-spare me... I—I...” he stuttered.
“Sir, how about buying something?” The vendor’s voice was exactly the same as before, the pitch, volume, cadence, like a recorder stuck on loop.
Terrified and wanting only to escape, Zheng Mang blurted, “Fine, I’ll buy. Let go!”
At that, the vendor finally released him.
Zheng Mang glanced at the scattered rouge compacts, picking out one that looked a bit fancier—two layers, likely holding two different colors of rouge. As soon as he grabbed it, Li Yuan noticed a sudden collective intake of breath among the nearby undying husks watching them.
Zheng Mang forced a smile. “I’ll take this one.” He fished around in his clothes, came up with a gold ingot, and held it out. “That should be more than enough, right?”
“1 mace,” the vendor replied.
Zheng Mang extended the gold ingot further. “No need to give me change. Think of it as a gift for a friend.”
“Not enough,” the vendor said. “Pick something else.”
Zheng Mang’s face went blank. His instincts were starting to scream that something was very wrong. Not daring to argue, he scanned the other items and finally pointed at a smaller single-layer box. “How about...this one?”
“4 cash,” the vendor said. “Still not enough.”
Zheng Mang stood there, speechless. More than anything, he just wanted to get away. He beckoned frantically to his companions. “Mao, Niang, hurry and bring all our money!”
The man and woman rushed over, dumping out a pile of gold ingots, gold nuggets, silver nuggets—everything they had. The vendor didn’t even glance at it. Instead, he slowly fished a crumpled slip of white paper from his pocket. Written on it were the words 3 cash.
“Too much,” the vendor said calmly. “I’ll give you 3 cash in change.”
With that, he handed the battered slip of paper along with the rouge compact to Zheng Mang. Then he stood, rubbing his hands together and bowing slightly. “Thank you for your patronage, sir.”
Zheng Mang snatched the rouge compact and the wrinkled 3-cash note, then hurried away without another word.
The vendor’s voice continued echoing behind him, and Zheng Mang felt a sudden chill. When did a place like this appear near Mang River Stronghold? Have I run into actual ghosts? The thought made him quicken his pace.
At the same time, the moment he’d taken that rouge compact and the odd scrap of money, the entire street seemed to shift. Figures emerged from different corners—those who had been moving slowly now turned around, those hidden in alleyways strode forward.
But Pang Yuanhua and Li Yuan remained still, merely observing. Perhaps they didn’t buy into that first-come, first-serve notion.
Zheng Mang also sensed the danger, and it seemed he heard something else as well. Panicked, he flung the rouge compact and the crumpled paper money to the ground and rushed back the way he had come.
True enough, nobody chased him; everyone converging on the scene went straight for the dropped items instead. In a matter of moments, one person snatched the rouge compact while another grabbed the paper money.
Li Yuan glanced at the two victorious figures, both seventh rank. He quietly took note of their method, gleaning a bit more about how things worked around here.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Alright,” Pang Yuanhua answered. The two continued deeper in.
After they had walked a while, Li Yuan suddenly asked, “Is one cash worth much in this place?”
Pang Yuanhua replied, “Ten cash make one candareen, and ten candareens make one mace. Beyond that, I’m not sure... But around here, it’s rare for anyone to have as much as a single candareen.”[1]
Meanwhile, Zheng Mang and his two companions had fled the street, only to find themselves back in the rugged mountains. Finally outside, Zheng Mang gasped for breath and looked over his shoulder in lingering fear.
Just then, his two companions both started moaning about stomach pains. Zheng Mang turned to check on them, but a twist of agony shot through his own gut.
His face went pale. First, he coughed up blood, then collapsed onto the ground, rolling in pain. His belly swelled as if he were pregnant, then abruptly split open with a violent tear. A ghastly white hand reached out from the gash.
With a grotesque, wet ripping sound, the hand tore apart his abdomen, revealing an old man’s pale, expressionless face. The elder’s tongue was horrifyingly long, his features twisted with malice.
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That long street continued on and on. At the entrance stood a handful of vendors, but deeper inside lay rows of shops, most of them with their doors wide open yet seemingly deserted.
Their signs and names were so worn they were hard to read, but the merchandise inside was strangely clear. There were shops selling paper effigies, coffin shops, blacksmiths, cobblers... Even from a distance, the price tags were visible. Prices here, though, were much steeper than those at the front stalls.
Occasionally, a biting cold wind swept through, chilling the very soul, like it wanted to scatter one’s spirit to the four corners. The farther in they went, the darker it grew, and the fewer people they saw.
“Senior,” Pang Yuanhua said softly, “they say that if we go too far and someone suddenly approaches us for a chat, we mustn’t answer. That’s when we need to head back immediately.”
Li Yuan gave a small nod, taking stock of his surroundings. The shops were so bizarre that he almost found it normal to think the carpenter’s workshop might be among them. Yet on reflection, if the workshop really was one of these storefronts, did that mean each of these shops contained its own ghost domain? Outside, a ghost domain manifested as a terrifying location; here, it was just another strange little store.
What in the world was this place?
They pressed on, scanning their surroundings. The crisscrossing streets began to warp in eerie ways, making them dizzy as though they might lose their way. From somewhere in the distance came the noises of strange creatures, like an otherworldly zoo.
Suddenly, a figure dressed in blue appeared before Li Yuan, beaming with enthusiasm. “Honored guest, how about visiting our Exotic Beast Park? It’s free today!”
Li Yuan felt his mind reel. He almost answered but instantly recalled Pang Yuanhua’s warning. Pretending not to see or hear the man, he kept walking.
“Honored guest, it’s free today!” The blue-clad man kept smiling, repeating his pitch.
Li Yuan ignored him completely. After several attempts, a suffocating pressure descended on him out of nowhere. He broke into a cold sweat and shivered involuntarily. Then, in the next blink, the blue-clad man was gone.
1. Refer to the Chinese silver tael system. 1 tael = 10 mace = 100 candareens = 1,000 cash. ☜
