“If war is like playing chess—weighing gains and calculating losses—then right now, the Sky Demons and the Sea Market are still in the phase of testing each other out.”
Nan Zhi crunched on the White Jade Ginseng with crisp snaps. Even as bitterness filled her mouth, her expression remained unchanged:
“Logically speaking, the demon cultivators of the Sea Market and the disciples of the Three Sects have no deep-seated enmity. How could a few instigating words light them up like dry tinder, exploding at the slightest touch?”
Hongluo couldn't understand what Nan Zhi was saying, but she obediently squatted by her side, chewing on the bitter ginseng rootlets and swallowing them down.
“Is that... Deep-sea White Jade Ginseng? Such fine quality is truly rare.”
The demon cultivator who had been heartily eating meat earlier suddenly called out to Nan Zhi and, without taking no for an answer, shoved a live octopus as thick as a human arm into her arms:
“I hear you're the young hero who cursed and killed the Golden Core demon Simu with a Ghost Slaying Scroll! I am Jin Guan, this is my sworn sister Shui Suohua, and our sworn brother Gan Ding.
These two brothers here are Canzhi and Meifu from the Qingjing Sect, and this is the immortal maiden Chuyun Caixia from Chuyun Kingdom.
Come, come! Fresh live octopus is at its most tender. Take it and let your little herb attendant get a taste of our Sea Market's flavors.”
Seeing the demon cultivator's warm invitation and hearing him introduce everyone in one breath, Nan Zhi packed up the beast hide and medicinal herbs, then walked over to sit with them:
“I am merely an ordinary rogue cultivator surnamed Ma, the ninth child in my family. Fellow Daoists, you may just call me ‘Ma Jiu.’”
Jin Guan was a green-skinned fellow with thick, sturdy limbs and an extraordinarily large head that made him appear neckless. Clad in leather armor, dark green demonic markings were etched across his face, making his true origins difficult to discern at a glance.
Shui Suohua was slender with delicate features. Her plain white robes billowed like fish fins drifting in water, and tiny scales dotted the space between her brows and the corners of her eyes, making it evident she was a fish demon.
Opposite Shui Suohua sat an eye-catching pair of identical twins with white pupils and jet-black hair. With delicate arched brows and snowy skin, they gave off the chilly, unapproachable air of high-mountain frost and ice.
Because of that Jiao person from before, Nan Zhi could not help but take a few extra glances. The two immediately sensed her gaze and turned toward her, their pale pupils devoid of emotion.
One could tell at a glance that Chuyun Caixia was a female cultivator from Chuyun Kingdom. The clothing she wore was not fabric, but woven from countless fluffy, miniature clouds.
Looking closely, one would notice that the garment shifted colors every second with the play of light.
She was strikingly beautiful, but clearly lacked social grace, casting only a swift glance at Nan Zhi before looking away.
As for that Gan Ding—
Nan Zhi's breath hitched slightly, and the smile on her face suddenly became far more genuine.
With a hunched back carrying a turtle shell, two comical spots of rouge painted on his face, and his neck constantly extending and retracting, he was the spitting image of Prime Minister Turtle from television dramas.
“So this is Fellow Daoist Ma Jiu? I have long heard that heroes emerge from youth, Miss Ma, and meeting you today confirms your extraordinary bearing.”
Gan Ding wore a genial smile as the turtle shell on his back bobbed slightly forward. His comical movements made it difficult for anyone to feel aversion toward him.
“Not at all. The moment I laid eyes on you today, Fellow Daoist Gan Ding, you looked familiar to me too, as if I've seen you somewhere before. I feel an inexplicable sense of familiarity.”
Nan Zhi replied with a beaming smile. Seeing that the wine jar resting on the banana leaves was half-empty, she pulled out a mud-sealed jar of fine wine from her storage bag:
“Since you've kindly invited me over and even offered food to my little attendant, it would be rude of me to be stingy. This is a fine brew from my homeland, rarely seen outside. Please, have a taste.”
The others exchanged varied looks, all somewhat surprised that the female cultivator who had looked so murderous just moments ago had suddenly undergone a complete change in temperament.
“Then this Old Jin is in for a treat!”
Jin Guan was shrewd beneath his rough exterior. After quietly exchanging a glance with Gan Ding, he impatiently tapped the air from a distance. The mud seal dropped, and a clear stream of liquor broke into shimmering beads that flew into his throat.
As the liquor went down, the green-skinned demon cultivator's eyes lit up. His smile broadened, and he gave Nan Zhi a hearty slap on the back:
“Though this wine isn't as fierce as what our Sea race brews, it has a truly unique flavor! Everyone, why don't you try some too?”
Seeing that Jin Guan was unharmed, the others followed suit, casting spells to draw wine into their cups from afar. They drank cautiously, though Gan Ding also had two cups.
After an exchange of pleasantries, the group grew familiar with one another. Shui Suohua, naturally cheerful and more attentive than her sworn brother, took the initiative to liven up the atmosphere.
Since this area was not far from the Jiao People Kingdom, she chose a legend concerning the Jiao people to share.
It was said that the twelve nations of the four directions lay far from the mortal world, but just as the moon waxes and wanes, the sea is not always calm. Consequently, there were always mortals who suffered misfortune, swept up by sea gales or abducted by demons, ultimately washing up in the twelve nations of the four directions.
A century ago, a fisherman went out to sea. Sudden thunder and lightning struck, causing him to fall overboard and drift into a strange realm. Though gloomy and eerie, unlike ordinary places, men and women were cultivating the seabed, plowing and weaving, living peacefully much like mortals.
The fisherman was sturdy and handsome, so a beautiful woman took him back to her cave abode and married him.
With the woman being lovely and the fisherman eager to please, the mortal and demon lived in deep affection, soon giving birth to two young Jiao offspring.
However, life on the seabed was harsh, with only seafood to eat and spring water to drink. The fisherman grew increasingly homesick and soon fell gravely ill, begging his wife to let him return home.
Pitying her husband, the woman took their two daughters and accompanied him back to his native land.
When the fisherman returned home with his wife and daughters, his family was astounded. It turned out his parents had believed he had died and had already held a funeral; his mother had even cried herself blind.
Seeing their living son return with an exquisite wife and two fair, adorable granddaughters, the elderly parents were overjoyed beyond measure.
Seeing that her husband's mother was blind, the woman stuck out her tongue and rubbed her saliva onto the old woman's eyelids. Moments later, the mother's eyes turned as bright and clear as a maiden of sixteen!
Hearing of the fisherman's return, the villagers flocked over to see the spectacle. One of them, upon seeing the wife, was immediately thrilled and said to the fisherman in private:
“This wife of yours is no human, but a Jiao person from the twelve nations of the four directions! When Jiao people weep, their tears turn to pearls, and they weave water into gauze worth ten thousand gold!
“Furthermore, eating Jiao meat brings longevity! Word has it that the Emperor is unwell. Why don't we present your wife and daughters to His Majesty? Wealth and glory will be ours for the taking!”
Hearing this, the fisherman indeed realized something was odd about his wife. The more he looked at her, the more she resembled the legendary Jiao people whose tears turned to pearls.
Resenting that she could have easily made him a wealthy man yet kept the truth hidden, wicked thoughts took root in his heart.
That night, the fisherman colluded with the villager to shove his two daughters into a burlap sack, threatening to smash his own flesh and blood to death unless the woman revealed her true form and wept pearls for him.
Who could have foreseen that the stuffy sack would suffocate the two girls to death!
The woman flew into a furious frenzy. Transforming into her horrifying true form, she pounced on the fisherman and his fellow villager, devouring them whole. Opening the sack, she found not two fair, adorable girls, but ghastly Jiao skeletons whose flesh had sloughed away in a shroud of ghostly energy!
Unfazed, the woman poured the fisherman's bones and blood over the skeletons. Flesh and skin regrew upon the children, turning them back into little ones who reached out their arms to her for a hug.
As it turned out, the woman was no living Jiao person, but a Jiao ghost formed after death.
Jiao people possessed no earthly souls; upon death, they returned to the sea, dissolving into foam and illusions without entering the Underworld's cycle of reincarnation.
Yet some Jiao people turned into ferocious Jiao ghosts after death, roaming the ocean.
Compared to living Jiao people, Jiao ghosts were far rarer and more prized. While Jiao people wept tears of pearl, Jiao ghosts did not shed tears easily and were vastly more vicious and violent.
How laughably foolish of the fisherman to mistake her for a gentle Jiao person, throwing his life away in his greed.
After the fisherman died, the village was gripped with terror, fearing her rampage. Yet after killing the fisherman and the villager, the Jiao ghost simply leaped into the sea with her daughters, vanishing without a trace.
Later on, the fisherman's mother went blind once more, and young men in the area occasionally went missing—no one knowing whether it was the work of that same Jiao ghost.
By the time the story reached its end, everyone had listened with rapt attention.
Nan Zhi rested her chin in her hand, her eyes flicking across the dancing flames before her.
This time around...
It really was a gathering of familiar faces.
Rate on N.U.
