Chapter Thirty-Four: The Newly Born Spirit

Hearing this, Chu Youcai looked at Hongyu’s determined and resolute face before him, and the smile on his own face gradually faded away. Hongyu was so young, and without the cultivation methods of a ghost medium, she barely possessed the most basic abilities. Entering the Ghost Abyss meant risking her life at any moment, yet she had insisted it was just a game to catch ghosts. How could he not feel guilty? How could he not be angry?

As Chu Youcai’s expression grew sterner, Hongyu’s eyes reddened and she lowered her head, murmuring softly, “I’m sorry, Brother Chu, for making you worry.”

“You were clearly exhausted yesterday, yet you still overreached yourself. Do you have any idea how many people are concerned for your safety?” Chu Youcai had heard that even those skilled in the arcane arts rarely emerged unscathed from the Ghost Abyss, let alone someone like Hongyu. His tone became harsher as he spoke.

Hongyu was on the verge of tears.

But Shangguan Wanru spoke coolly, “And when you killed Lei Yinyang, did you consider where that left the others?”

Chu Youcai was momentarily speechless.

Seeing this, Hongyu burst out laughing through her tears, while Chu Youcai could only manage a wry smile.

Shangguan Wanru continued, “Hongyu, tell your Brother Chu about the restrictions in the Ghost Abyss. Since we’re here, we must face this together.”

Hongyu held great trust in Shangguan Wanru. She glanced surreptitiously at Chu Youcai, and seeing that he was no longer scolding her, she said, “It’s my first time in the Ghost Abyss…”

Noticing Chu Youcai’s expression growing cold again, she quickly added, “But today, we’ve only entered the outer rim. The ghosts here are all newborn spirits, and pose no threat to us.”

“You both must hold tightly to my hands. If you let go, we’ll be separated, and might never find our way back.”

“It’s now midnight, and the Ghost Abyss will remain open for only one hour. We must return to this spot within that time, so that when our spirit forms return, they can merge with our physical bodies.”

“I’ve marked this place with my medium’s blood. Next, we’ll explore within a five-mile radius. You’ll be able to see the newborn ghosts here, but some more powerful vengeful spirits can hide themselves. If I sense their presence, I’ll warn you of their distance and direction.”

Chu Youcai and Shangguan Wanru moved to either side of Hongyu, each gripping one of her hands as they ventured forward.

They had taken only a few steps before Chu Youcai sensed the difference between the Ghost Abyss and the mortal world.

Above, the blood-red moon cast a warm glow, like basking in a pool on a sweltering day, soothing every pore. As he walked, his body felt weightless, as though he floated with no solid ground beneath his feet.

With a single thought, Chu Youcai found himself flitting five meters ahead.

“So this is what it means to be a spirit form—intangible, yet capable of inflicting harm through cultivation techniques?”

“This world isn’t so bad. But to enter the Ghost Abyss, one must be a ghost medium; ordinary cultivators couldn’t possibly come here.” Chu Youcai gripped Hongyu’s hand tightly, knowing if they were separated, his spirit could be lost, wandering in confusion, memory fading, possibly for decades.

He soon noticed Hongyu leading them forward. Not far ahead, ghostly figures drifted in the gloom.

Hongyu whispered, “I can’t handle vengeful spirits yet, only these newborn ghosts. Let’s see if we can catch a few to take back and raise their consciousness.”

But as they neared the ghosts—only five meters away—their presence seemed to deal a powerful blow. The ghosts flickered and dissipated into nothingness.

Chu Youcai was stunned. Why was this happening?

Hongyu, seeing his confusion, explained, “You two are mortals, and your souls carry yang energy. The newborn ghosts can’t withstand direct contact with yang energy; it destroys them instantly. We need to find ones that are a bit stronger.”

Chu Youcai suddenly understood. He’d heard tales of men with exceptional vitality, whose mere presence repelled spirits, while lesser ghosts couldn’t even approach ordinary people. Now, seeing how fragile these newborn ghosts were, it all made sense.

Glancing around, Chu Youcai saw many indistinct figures wandering aimlessly. Some circled back to where they’d started, as if trapped in an endless loop.

“What’s wrong with these newborn ghosts? Are they experiencing ghostly illusions themselves?” Chu Youcai asked.

Hongyu shook her head. “Ghosts are born from people’s obsessions and emotions. In the Ghost Abyss, their hearts are full of resentment, but some aren’t strong enough, and their memories are hazy. When torn between seeking revenge or not, they become lost, like this, until eventually their grudges consume them.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than the ghosts seemed to regain clarity. Their eyes turned blood-red, and with a hoarse cry they dashed away at incredible speed.

In the distance, a majestic fortress loomed, shrouded by swirling black mists.

As soon as the newborn ghosts regained awareness, they all rushed toward the fortress.

Hongyu pointed to the distant stronghold. “That’s the Ghost Fortress. Only by devouring many of their kind can newborn ghosts become vengeful spirits and enter the fortress. There are countless such fortresses in the Ghost Abyss, just as there are countless cities in the human world.”

“But we must avoid the fortresses. Even ordinary vengeful spirits are beyond our ability to resist. They can hide themselves, drink blood, possess human intellect, and are intangible—very difficult to deal with.”

“I can only barely sense their existence, but I can’t determine their strength or what weapons they wield.”

Chu Youcai was startled. Clearly, dangers abounded in the Ghost Abyss, and those who could enter the Ghost Fortresses must be formidable indeed.

He instinctively tightened his grip on the fish-scale saber and the Dragon Tortoise Pearl hidden in his robes. Still, unless absolutely necessary, he dared not use his cursed treasures here, for fear of drawing the attention of powerful vengeful spirits.

After searching for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they finally saw a newborn ghost devour three others in succession, then let out a low growl as its eyes turned red.

“That’s the one!” Hongyu hurried forward, pricking her finger to drop a bead of blood, which formed a shield and lunged toward the newborn ghost.

Just as the blood was about to strike and capture the ghost, disaster struck.

A fierce, chilling wind rose in the distance, scattering Hongyu’s blood in the air.

Chu Youcai’s heart lurched. Looking up, he saw black smoke swirling above the fortress, coalescing into a violent hurricane that surged toward them.

Wherever the hurricane passed, all was obliterated. From afar, it looked like an unstoppable, oppressive darkness.

“This is bad!” Hongyu’s face changed dramatically. “It’s the Ghost Tide—an annual Ghost Tide!”