In the Ghost Market beneath the Dragon Locust tree, shops selling funeral clothes, restaurants, and paper craft stores were everywhere. Lin Feng and Nie Chuxia combed through it thoroughly.
"Lin Feng... buying so many funeral clothes is just asking for trouble!" Nie Chuxia was exhausted, carrying a large bundle on her back.
Lin Feng rolled his eyes, "All you know is how to catch ghosts. Sister, this is the ghost realm! There are countless ghosts here who could extinguish your life lamp in a heartbeat. Do you really want to start a fight? Think about it: respecting the ghosts should be our first choice. Violence is the last resort—if you really want to fight, you'll have plenty of chances."
Lin Feng also carried a pile of funeral clothes from a renowned ghost-market shop, spending nearly all the paper money he'd stored in his dimensional space. The clothes were exquisitely made and beautiful.
He had to admit he admired Nie Chuxia's diligence. Even in a funeral shop, she selected items with meticulous care, putting him to shame.
The two of them bought dozens of funeral outfits and an array of ceremonial food. After all, paying respect with offerings was the key to placating the ghosts.
Nie Chuxia also seemed to have a similar dimensional space, stuffing a lot of offerings inside. Lin Feng was curious but didn't ask more.
They left the ghost market, stepping out into an ancient, imposing city. The Ghost Market's appearance was a towering pagoda, and beyond it, the only structure more imposing was a palace-like tomb in the distance.
As Lin Feng had learned, this city was built above the Dragon Locust Ghost King's underground palace, a grand tomb encompassing the entire city. The entrance to the main tomb was located in that palace-like building.
The streets of the ghost city were bustling. It looked as though this city was well-managed.
Lin Feng flagged down a carriage on the roadside, offering a paper-made silver ingot. "Driver, to the mortuary, and hurry!"
"Sure thing, sir. Hold tight, both of you!"
In the carriage, Lin Feng pondered something while Nie Chuxia marveled at the city's sights.
"Lin Feng! This place is amazing—is this the underworld?"
Lin Feng replied, "I told you, this place is neither the underworld nor the mortal realm."
Nie Chuxia asked, "You just said the shop owners sell items their descendants burned for them. But what about this coachman? His horse can't have been burned for him, right?"
Lin Feng explained, "As long as someone recognized you as their master in life, they'll accompany you in death too. And besides, this isn't a regular carriage. Use your spiritual vision to look closely—this is the coachman's coffin, actually..."
Nie Chuxia pulled out her life lamp, staring intently, only to realize they were sitting inside a coffin. The "horse" was pulling a cart meant for carrying coffins.
Gasping, she noticed a skeleton lying within and nearly fell out of the carriage in shock.
"What is this?!"
Lin Feng explained, "That's the coachman's remains. His dwelling. During the day, his spirit retreats here to rest."
The carriage jostled along, and the coachman drove them out of the city. Outside, graves dotted the landscape, and many wandering spirits struggled to carry their remains, seemingly trying to move them to a place with better spiritual energy.
As they neared the mortuary, skeletal remains littered the ground, wild grass grew around, and mournful cries filled the air. These souls lamented their unburied state, wailing in despair for the lack of descendants to honor them.
"Sirs, this is as far as I go. Beyond here, a crowd of poor ghosts will beg me to carry their remains to better spots, and my horse can't handle that."
The coachman bowed. Lin Feng nodded, "Understood. Here's another ingot. If you see any children's remains along the way, help place them somewhere peaceful."
The coachman hesitated briefly, then nodded, "Alright! As you wish!"
The outskirts of the ghost city were full of lonely souls and wild ghosts, the air thick with resentment. These were the unburied, unremembered spirits with no descendants to honor them, destined for eventual oblivion.
Even in a place rich with dark energy, a ghost can't live on thin air alone.
"Sir, please pity me—spare me some coins for a meal!"
"Some clothes, sir. I'm cold…"
"Help me, I beg of you..."
Lin Feng and Nie Chuxia were surrounded. Moaning voices rang out around them, but with Nie Chuxia's life lamp deterring them and their own spirits emanating strength, few dared approach too closely.
Nie Chuxia, once trained to regard ghosts with ruthless coldness, was taken aback by the sheer destitution around her. Her grandfather had raised her with a strict code: humans and ghosts are enemies, and a ghost hunter's duty is to purge ghosts for a peaceful world. But in this place, neither the underworld nor the mortal realm, she felt uncertain.
These ghosts were pitiable, helpless as they lingered on desolate hillsides like society's marginalized, pathetic beyond words.
"Lin Feng... shouldn't we give them some of the offerings? We bought so much…" she said, feeling compassion.
The surrounding ghosts became animated upon hearing this. "Thank you, merciful lady!"
Lin Feng rejected the idea. "Why should we? I bought this stuff, so I'll give it to whoever I want. What do their troubles have to do with me?"
The ghosts glared at him with resentment, some preparing to lunge.
Nie Chuxia, irritated, said, "You always call me heartless and cold—what about you?"
Lin Feng shrugged and activated his mortal aura, addressing the ghosts around him, "If you feel there's no point lingering, I can help you pass on to the underworld for reincarnation. No need to drag on here. What do you say?"
He manifested an urn in his hand, radiating an unsettling power. A force of despair emanated from it, ensnaring the nearby ghosts, making the air thick and immobilizing them.
After initial shock, the ghosts resisted fiercely, scrambling away. Not a single one wanted to be sent on; they stared at the urn from a distance, as though they had seen a nightmare.
Lin Feng shrugged and turned to Nie Chuxia. "See that? They'd rather cling to this world than move on. These kinds of souls fear the retribution that awaits them, the karma that would condemn them to lives as animals in the next cycle. They'd rather risk annihilation here than reincarnation. There's nothing to pity. Their karma eventually falls to their descendants. They're getting exactly what they deserve."
Lin Feng spoke loudly enough for the surrounding souls to hear. Many looked away, unwilling to meet his gaze.
Ever since he got the urn, Lin Feng had realized that many ghosts avoided reincarnation to evade karmic payback. But no one escapes the cycle of cause and effect. Their unpaid debt only transfers to their descendants.
Nie Chuxia was speechless.
Her grandfather had only taught her high-minded principles, never mentioning these gritty realities. Like the other elders of the Southern Sect, her grandfather revered strength but never considered the broader consequences.
Lin Feng stashed the urn. Many of these ghosts would make excellent "spirit candles," each worth a hundred merits. He could capture and refine them, forcing their passage, but he never did.
Lin Feng's stance was clear: the merit would be valuable to him, and it would benefit their descendants, but if they didn't want it, he wouldn't force them.
As the ghosts dispersed, four elderly spirits remained. They looked feeble, barely clinging to existence.
The four knelt down, cautiously bowing before Lin Feng. "Master… please guide us to peace. We refused reincarnation after our deaths, hiding from the underworld guards, but we see our error now."
Lin Feng didn't hesitate, handing each a stack of paper money. "Eat well in the underworld, and reincarnate soon. Here's a secret: the offerings your descendants burn for you will convert into blessings for your next life. Go on now, and remember to be kind in your next life."
The urn in Lin Feng's hand flared, and the system chimed as the four ghosts were absorbed, each transformed into a spirit candle.
Success! This candle alone was worth at least 400 merits.
Satisfied, Lin Feng noticed this spirit candle was gray instead of the usual white, strikingly similar to the candle Nie Chuxia had shown earlier.
Just as he was about to ask her about it, a group of armor-clad ghosts emerged from the mortuary.
"A mortal?! How dare you help the souls in our king's domain to pass on! Where did you get the courage for that?"