Chapter 1: Frenzied Cultivation

Zhang Xiaofan leaned in for a closer look and saw that it was something resembling jade, and rather expensive, costing several thousand. The description indicated it was a compendium of rune techniques. Su Qianqian, brimming with pride, said, “Ever since I bought the golden scissors last time, I’ve wanted this, but I didn’t have enough ghost money, I was short by a few hundred. Now, with the reward, I can finally afford it.”

She clicked purchase, and the jade instantly appeared in her hand. As soon as it materialized, it transformed into a stream of light and entered Su Qianqian’s mind. She clutched her head and cried out several times before finally regaining composure.

“Wonderful! I now have so much knowledge about rune techniques in my memory. With these scissors, I can produce a large number of them,” Su Qianqian exclaimed, dancing with joy.

Zhang Xiaofan was genuinely happy for her as well.

When the two returned to school, they gazed at their now empty classroom. He sighed; the other classes had lessons every day, but theirs—no matter if no one showed up—was ignored. Clearly, this was all the work of ghosts.

Their class had become mere passersby. To everyone else in the school, an empty classroom was normal, and deaths in their class were normal too. Even those boys who used to frequently send love letters to Su Qianqian had vanished, which struck Zhang Xiaofan as curious.

“Perhaps we really are trapped in a curse, becoming the air of this world…”

Zhang Xiaofan sighed and spent the following days digesting Guo Bin’s book.

This book was titled “The Ghost Atlas,” and it detailed the characteristics of 108 ghosts.

Of course, there were far more ghosts in this world, well beyond 108 kinds, but the ones depicted here were ranked among the top 108.

For example, the Red-Clad Female Ghost was ranked 89, and the Blue-Faced Fierce Ghost, 73—these were formidable entities. The vengeful spirits from the Ghost Factory or the female ghost who helped Zhang Xiaofan scare people on the hillside, belonged to the category of masterless wandering souls. They had little offensive power, only enough to frighten people.

During this period, besides poring over the Ghost Atlas, Zhang Xiaofan spent almost all his time cultivating in the ancient mirror. The young man in brocade was as powerful as ever, and Zhang Xiaofan was beaten soundly each time.

At night, after another round of bruising practice, Zhang Xiaofan spoke helplessly to the ancient mirror, “Mosha, you used to be so powerful, surely you know many techniques? Why not teach me some?”

“Hmph, I’d like to, but you people here don’t have any spiritual power. How would you cultivate?”

“So how do I get stronger?”

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“Let’s do this. Your greatest enemy now is ghosts. Start cultivating from the Taoist lineage, but I don’t own such mediocre techniques. Buy one from your Taobao mall.” With that, Mosha fell silent.

Zhang Xiaofan felt exasperated—this was the epitome of a hands-off boss. He couldn’t help but wonder, did people not catch ghosts in her world?

After searching for a long time, Zhang Xiaofan settled on a book called “Wooden Sword Technique.”

The Wooden Sword Technique fit perfectly with his peach wood sword, and it wasn’t expensive, only a thousand ghost coins. Zhang Xiaofan was quite satisfied and bought it to begin his cultivation.

He practiced diligently for several days, and a few classmates gradually returned. One day, Jiang Jiewei and Gu Seling came back one after another, their faces somber.

Upon asking, he learned that they had also experienced betrayal during their tasks, but had managed to turn the tide and survive. Judging by their expressions, they had gained something from the ordeal.

With only a few days left in the month, classmates chatted in the group about their adventures; most had completed their tasks.

Zhang Xiaofan’s thoughts drifted—he wondered if Lin Rou had finished hers. Though he’d resolved never to be with her, she had helped him once, and he hadn’t heard from her in a long time, so he felt compelled to ask.

He sent her a message inquiring about her task, and was surprised when Lin Rou replied that she had already completed it.

“Lin Rou has finished already.” Zhang Xiaofan found it hard to believe.

At last, the month came to an end, and Bao Lei posted an announcement in the group.

Ding!

Bao Lei: Well done, everyone. Those who survived have completed their tasks. But this was just a minor test. After evaluation, you’re doing great. Currently, there are forty-four survivors.

“When will these games stop?”

“Yes, we shouldn’t keep killing each other.”

“I just want to study properly now.”

“Damn, I only got three thousand ghost coins for my task?”

After a flurry of complaints, Bao Lei continued: As I’ve said, if you don’t want to play the game, you can commit suicide.

Also, tomorrow the red envelope game continues, and it will be upgraded. Stay tuned.

Zhang Xiaofan sent a message: Bao Lei, we were classmates once. Even though you’re a ghost now, is it really necessary to treat us this way?

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Bao Lei: Don’t you find it entertaining?

Zhang Xiaofan: I’ll find you and deal with you myself.

Bao Lei: Don’t think you’re powerful just because you’ve learned a few techniques. Your skills aren’t enough to handle even moderately strong ghosts. But since you said so, I’ll pay special attention to you…

Jiang Jiewei and Hu Xiaotian sighed in the dorm, saying Zhang Xiaofan shouldn’t have provoked Bao Lei. Zhang Xiaofan wasn’t worried; he didn’t believe Bao Lei would kill him. From his observations, Bao Lei was merely the issuer of commands—the real mastermind was elsewhere.

At noon, Zhang Xiaofan invited Hu Xiaotian, Jiang Jiewei, and Gu Seling out for drinks. They reminisced about the days before the red envelope group.

Their bond had grown stronger; after their meal, Jiang Jiewei invited Sun Lili out shopping, and Hu Xiaotian and Gu Seling each went off with their girlfriends.

Zhang Xiaofan was a bit tipsy and decided to return to school for a rest. As he was about to head to the dormitory, he unexpectedly saw someone acting suspiciously at the classroom door.

His curiosity piqued—no one had been to class for days—was this a fellow student?

The person kept peering in through the window, appearing frail and holding something in their hand. Soon, they lit whatever it was.

Zhang Xiaofan wondered what the person was doing and hurried upstairs. When he got closer, he gasped; the man was burning funeral money at the classroom door.

He stepped forward, kicked over the pile, and scolded, “What are you doing?”

Looking closer, he recognized the man as the school security guard—one of several, but this one was the oldest.

When Zhang Xiaofan first arrived, he remembered classmates mentioning that the guard’s surname was Shen, though his full name was unknown; everyone just called him Old Shen.

Old Shen was a good man; whenever students forgot their cards, he let them in. At night, he patrolled more than anyone.

Seeing it was him, Zhang Xiaofan softened his tone. “Why are you burning paper here?”

(Some rambling: Firstly, I’m deeply grateful to those who vote for me every day. I’m truly moved. Without you, I would have given up long ago.)

At present, my finances are extremely tight. So tight that I don’t dare go out shopping anymore. I could be writing other books—those would earn me some pocket money every month—but this one, right now, doesn’t earn a single cent! Yet I can’t bear to leave you all, so I remain.

Thanks to some readers for their tips and support. If you have money, please consider tipping. If not, please vote a little more. Truly, those big names don’t need your votes, but I do. There are so few readers in the supernatural category. Please support me!

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