The portly ghost stumbled toward the golden light, then twisted and fell into the Soul Summoning Lamp.
Zhao Xing didn't try to stop it; the ghost's fortune was too distant, and to inquire about the riches would likely require helping the ghost fulfill a vow.
Too bothersome, Zhao Xing thought. He was after a quick ghostly fortune, a stroke of instant wealth. If there were too many complications, he might as well go back to farming.
Besides, this involved an assessment of the clergy, and if he put himself in their shoes, he wouldn't want outsiders interfering either. It wasn't worth offending people over some small amount of money.
"No rush, there are plenty of opportunities." Zhao Xing didn't even glance back as he quickly returned to his street vendor's stall.
Xu the Eighth let out a sigh of relief when Zhao Xing returned, concerned that he might not come back and then spread gossip, tarnishing the reputation of the river scavengers.
