Food gives me an entry, I will be invincible if I stay alive

Chapter 193 The World's Finest Delicacy

The Ghost Market of the Underworld is bustling with ghosts and monsters.

Chen Xu contemplated the path to immortality without showing any outward expression, but his mind was in turmoil.

His eyes were on that withered branch-like remnant of the [Innate Spiritual Root]. Lou Haiweng did not recognize this object, and the surrounding ghosts and monsters regarded it only as a withered tree branch.

Chen Xu wanted it, but the more this was the case, the more he needed to remain calm.

The ghosts jostled and pushed each other, watching the spectacle and excitement from a distance.

The world of ghosts is sometimes lonely. There are no markets or sunrises in the City of the Dead, only the endless eerie winds and wailing every night.

Having finally made it to the first day of the month, and being able to emerge from the City of the Wrongfully Dead and enter this Great Gathering of the Underworld, many ghosts naturally couldn't help but release their emotions and reveal their ghostly nature.

They dare not cause trouble, but they will make a ruckus, scream, laugh, and mock.

When things get heated, some ghosts can even twist their necks into pretzels.

"Look, that hanged ghost has set up a stove and an earthenware jar. Is he planning to cook ghost food in the street and feed it to Old Man Leaky Sea?"

"What kind of ghost food in the world can stop the old man from leaking? Even the famous Netherworld Noodles in our market can't do it. This hanged ghost is so thin, you can tell he wasn't cut out to be a cook when he was alive."

"When the ghost food you've made leaks out of Old Man Leaky's chin again, he'll definitely grab him and steal a hundred years of his lifespan!"

"Hehehe, stealing one's lifespan..."

"That idiot brought this on himself, hehehe!"

……

Ghosts howled and howled, a mournful fog hung heavy, and the sky was dim and yellow.

The old man with the leaky eyes had eyes as big as copper bells, and his sharp teeth and teeth made his mouth gleam with a cold light.

“Kid, did you hear that?” he grinned. “They’re right. If you want to use ghost food to buy something from a certain stall, that stall will agree.”

But if your ghost food cannot make me grow a tongue, I will take away a hundred years of your lifespan... If your lifespan is insufficient, you will die!

When a ghost dies, it becomes a spirit; when a true spirit is extinguished, it perishes.

"Once you're dead, you have nothing left."

The surrounding ghostly howls echoed, "There's nothing left, hehehe..."

The tray ghost was in a panic. It didn't care whether Chen Xu was dead or alive, but it was afraid of being implicated by Chen Xu and also afraid that it would never be able to eat the Crimson Robe again.

Even though Chen Xu had set up the stove and, in front of all the ghosts, casually tossed a stream of spring water into the earthenware jar, he still managed to use his spirit-controlling technique to hold the tray ghost back.

They wouldn't let it leave even a fraction of a second.

The tray ghost could only feel anxious and frustrated, helpless.

Not far away on the street, a ghost stretched its neck to look.

Some ghosts lay prone on their bodies, while others simply gouged out their own eyeballs and threw them on the ground.

The eyeball hopped and skipped over to Chen Xu's side, and among the ghosts, a mischievous ghost gesticulated wildly as he described it:

"Phew, he's boiling water."

"Are you making soup? It's all watery and bland, what's so delicious about that?"

"Hiss, it really is porridge. What's in it? Oh, it's mortal spirit rice, not our Wanhuang Guisha rice. Tsk tsk, this mortal spirit rice... Oh dear, we usually can't handle it."

"How can he cook porridge so fast? The flames in that stove are so hot, so scalding... Ugh, I need to get away from him!"

Its eyes bounced and darted back, while the mischievous ghost hissed and screamed.

The ghosts chattered amongst themselves, discussing the matter animatedly.

"Do you think it's possible for him to succeed?"

"Such a big gimmick is bound to fail. Those who achieve great things, like us, are all extremely low-key, hehehe..."

Amidst the commotion, the ghost who had been laughing and joking was now being mocked and ridiculed by the other ghosts.

"Is that being low-key? You're just being high-profile because you don't have the right to be. How shameless... Wow, it smells so good!" For some reason, a faint, indescribable fragrance suddenly wafted from the small red clay stove in front of them.

At first, the fragrance was faint and indistinct. Some ghosts with lower cultivation levels were not very sensitive and thus did not seem to smell it.

Later, for some unknown reason, the fragrance arrived quietly, like a gentle rain, and silently seeped into the misty haze that permeated the entire Yellow Springs Ghost Market.

When it suddenly erupted, more and more ghosts and monsters smelled the fragrance.

Some ghosts were stunned the moment they smelled it.

What kind of fragrance is that?
In the center of the Ghost City, a swordsman ghost, covered in indigo with ferocious horns and a goose-feather saber at his waist, suddenly opened his eyes.

This swordsman ghost can set up a stall in three circles of the ghost market, which naturally means that his cultivation is outstanding and extraordinary.

He sat cross-legged in front of the stall, originally resting with his eyes closed, too lazy to pay attention to anything else.

Although there seemed to be bursts of noise coming from not far away on the other side, which sounded extremely lively, where in the ghost market was there not liveliness?

Although the swordsman is now a ghost, his heart for wielding the sword has never changed.

He disdains associating with mediocre people and is even less inclined to waste time on foolish trifles.

Only then did he catch a whiff of that delicate fragrance.

What exactly is that fragrance?
The swordsman opened his eyes and twitched his nostrils slightly.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes seemed somewhat unfocused.

Because he vaguely felt that what he was smelling was the bowl of rice porridge his wife had brought him on the morning of the day he left home, many years ago—

The light rice porridge contains the aroma of the five grains of the human body.

On that morning of parting, it was the last pure, fresh aroma of food that the swordsman would ever smell in his life.

The pale yellow rice grains, the flowing porridge, the hazy morning light, and that gentle call.

The swordsman suddenly stood up, abandoning his own stall, and hurriedly followed the scent.

All around were noisy discussions: "It smells so good! How can it smell so good? It reminds me of my deadbeat husband."

"Waaah... This is the Zhai family's grand banquet! The most delicious banquet I've ever eaten in my life was the Zhai family's grand banquet. It's a pity it only happened once, and I've never tasted it again since."

"Could this be the banquet that the Ghost Lord of Ten Thousand Desolations hosted in Ten Thousand Desolations City that year? Is this really porridge? Why does it remind me of that ghost banquet?"

"Nonsense! This is clearly human food, the porridge my mother used to cook for me, it tastes exactly like this!"

"Oh, Mother, my poor child died so young, and you, a white-haired woman, have to bury your black-haired one. I will never see you again..."

The ghosts cried and made a ruckus, but the swordsman ghost paid them no heed.

He simply wore a sword at his waist, and like a whirlwind, he parted the demons.

Then, a ghost was heard excitedly shouting, "I've never smelled such a fragrance before! Could this be the legendary food of the immortals? It smells so good, I feel like I'm ascending to heaven..."

Finally, he emerged from the crowded horde of ghosts.

I came across a stall where two ghosts, each with a very distinctive appearance, were sitting opposite each other.

One was the renowned Old Man Leaking the Sea, and the other was a hanged ghost with an exceptionally long and thin body.

The hanged ghost was dressed in white, thin and bony, as straight as a bamboo pole.

In front of him was a small red clay stove. At that moment, he was holding a bowl in one hand and a long-handled wooden spoon in the other, scooping porridge from the earthenware jar.

The white rice grains seemed to bloom in the porridge, adorned with a few bright red peacocks.

The way the hanged ghost scooped the porridge didn't seem like that of a cook; it had a freehand, ink-wash painting-like quality.

The congee simmered and poured down, its fragrant aroma becoming increasingly enticing.

Just as the hanged ghost was about to hand the bowl of porridge to the old man who leaked the sea, the swordsman ghost acted impulsively and blurted out, "Wait!"

(End of this chapter)