Underworld entries, starting with ghost stories.

The young girl on the couch was covered with a brocade quilt embroidered with large peonies, revealing her delicate face. She was probably having a sweet dream, and there was a smile on her lips.

Wu Qing reached out and grabbed at her blanket a few times.

His hand went straight through.

Left with no other choice, it transformed into a living zombie and stepped onto the floor.

The candlelight spilling from the octagonal crystal chandelier cast his reflection onto the brocade quilt.

Wu Qing felt his heart beating very fast, even though his heart had stopped beating.

He looked back and felt guilty, realizing he had done something wrong.

Then he felt angry at himself for being so useless. This girl had killed him, and he had only come to raid her at night. Why did he act like a thief?

During the six months he spent in this world, the life of being constantly chased and driven away as a refugee shaped his insecure personality.

But I'm dead now, why should I care about these things?

He reached out and grabbed the blanket, slowly pulling it down.

Beneath the brocade quilt, the young girl wearing a beautiful bodice with magpie and plum blossom patterns was fully revealed.

Wu Qing bent his rather stiff leg.

He carefully unfastened the waistband of the girl's white jacket and trousers.

The girl, who was sleeping on her side, stirred and rolled over to sleep on her back.

Wu Qing took a breath.

The air he inhaled through his mouth was exhaled through the sword hole in his throat, making a slight, blower-like sound.

He tilted his head and looked at people sideways.

The system says he's now a ghost story.

But what exactly are ghost stories? He wasn't quite sure either.

I feel that the term "ghost story" is different from the so-called "ghost".

He turned his head to the other side, not looking at the girl's bodice and face, but only at her jacket and trousers.

Then, carefully, he pulled down her waistband until her thighs were exposed.

He reached out and poked at the artery in his neck that had been cut open.

The blood is frozen inside the body, but the blood that comes out is still bright red.

He is indeed dead, but not completely dead!

He crouched beside the bed, extending his bloodied fingers toward the girl's pale thigh, and strained to move the flesh in his throat, uttering a low, hissing sound in a lisping voice:

"I died...so...miserably..."

Kong Fengjiao is a martial artist, and in the martial arts world, the realm of martial arts is usually divided into three grades: upper, middle, and lower.

Although she had only barely reached the lower rank, just as a low-ranking official is still an official to ordinary people, a low-ranking martial artist is still a master to ordinary people.

Kong Fengjiao sensed someone moving her blanket while she was asleep.

She was born into a wealthy family, and from childhood to adulthood, it was perfectly normal for her nanny or maid to come and check on her in the middle of the night to make sure she was covered up properly and to cover her with a blanket.

Then she realized someone was unzipping her pants.

But she was in the prime of her life, and sometimes she would have dreams that weren't related to summer, autumn, or winter. In her half-asleep state, she wasn't quite sure if she was having those kinds of dreams.

She opened her eyes groggily.

In the scene that filled the eye, a dark figure with a broken neck and a crooked neck lay sprawled beside the bed, the bloody hole on its neck trembling and making a faint sound, like a cold wind blowing through a hole in the stone.

"I died...so...miserably..."

Her thighs were ice cold, and there was a faint smell of blood.

"Ah—" Kong Fengjiao's hair stood on end instantly, and she let out a terrified scream, kicking her legs at the dark figure.

Wu Qingcai had only written half of the character "惨" (miserable) when the girl's sudden scream startled this living zombie.

The kick, delivered with the force of a martial artist's energy through his slender thigh, sent him tumbling toward the window.

Kong Fengjiao kicked him very hard, but Wu Qing felt no pain at all.

"I died so tragically!" He jumped toward the girl, grabbed her leg, and tried to continue writing.

As someone who was already dead, he didn't care about anything else.

If I'm bound by constraints while alive, and still have my hands and feet tied after death, then what's the point of my death?

Kong Fengjiao sat up abruptly, her pants pulled down to her knees. In her panic, she put her feet together on the bed.

Before she could react, the dark figure, also with its feet together, jumped towards her and pounced on her, grabbing her feet.

The shrill, guttural hiss seemed to come from the depths of hell.

She looked down and saw that the guy with the broken neck was the same guy she had killed during the day.

The only difference was that his expression was no longer pitiful, but sinister.

Kong Fengjiao felt a chill creep up from her tailbone, and her entire back felt cold.

"A ghost!" She was so frightened that her heart raced and her legs kicked wildly.

With her half-undressed jacket and trousers binding her, and the evil spirit clinging tightly to her legs, she was unable to kick it away.

She pushed the thing with her hand, and it was ice-cold to the touch, with no body temperature, just as cold as the night outside.

She screamed and struggled. Wu Qing tried to calm her down; after all, he only wanted to write a few words.

A series of clattering sounds echoed downstairs.

"Miss?" A voice came from inside.

With a bang, Kong Fengjiao finally managed to circulate her internal energy and kick the guy who was holding her away.

The octagonal crystal chandelier was knocked to the ground, the candlelight inside went out, and darkness descended.

The maid ran up, opened the window, and looked back.

Her young mistress was standing by the bed, holding up her trousers with both hands, still in shock, looking around anxiously.

"Miss, what's wrong?" The maid used a tinderbox to light the lamp oil on the table, making the room brighter.

"There's a ghost!" Kong Fengjiao broke out in a cold sweat and turned pale.

"A ghost?" The maid looked around, but saw nothing.

Before long, the old women and maids of all ages in the garden came over and went to inform the head of the Kong family, Kong Hong, who was known as the great philanthropist of Cheng'an County, as well as Yang, Kong Fengjiao's mother.

The group searched the entire building where Kong Fengjiao lived, as well as the surrounding gardens, leaving no stone unturned, but found nothing.

After Kong Fengjiao finished dressing and wrapped herself in a large fur coat, she sat down on the first floor and drank the ginseng soup, which was still slightly steaming, that her maid had brought to her.

Finally, Kong Hong dismissed everyone, leaving only a few extra people to guard the area. He then returned to his daughter's side and said:

"Daughter, are you having a nightmare? There's nothing here at all."

"It was that little thief!" Kong Fengjiao's chest heaved. "I killed him. I killed him with my own hands during the day. But he came looking for me, just like when he died during the day..."

The thought of that evil spirit with its crooked neck, cold body, and sinister aura that seemed to want to drink her blood made the hot soup she drank instantly turn cold.

Kong Hong frowned.

Last night, he heard his daughter proudly recount how she cleanly and efficiently rid the people of a scourge, killing the bandit leader of Wuji Village with a single sword stroke.

For him, this was nothing.

After all, although he was a great philanthropist, he did a lot of things to help people by distributing porridge.

But there are always many lowly people who cultivate his land, ungrateful and unable to even pay the due rent, yet they still dare to run away or cause trouble.

Therefore, when necessary, a few of those lowly people who are either wicked or evil should be killed to show everyone.

"What ghosts are there in this world?" Kong Hong began to reason. "Besides, these petty thieves weren't capable in life. Even in death, they're just cowardly little devils. Where would they get the guts to come knocking on our door?"

He laughed and said, "In my opinion, this is the first time you have done something like this, fighting against evil and upholding justice. You are too kind-hearted and feel uneasy. What you think about during the day, you dream about at night."

"Look, there's nothing here at all!"

He asked people to turn on more lights so that his daughter could see her surroundings more clearly.

Kong Fengjiao looked completely bewildered.

What just happened was too bizarre; for a moment, she couldn't tell whether it was real or a dream.

Meanwhile, Wu Qing huddled in a cabinet against the wall.

This place is filled with many antiques and rare treasures, and elegant calligraphy and paintings are also displayed here.

Because there was no space to hide people, and because these items were quite valuable, the servants dared not rummage through them.

Even if they searched him, in his ghostly state, he could simply hide inside a wall, and no one would be able to find him.

Wu Qing opened the system and found that there were changes to it.

[Host: Wu Qing!]

[Rank: Ghost Story (Lv1)...]

After "Lv1", there was an extra progress bar, and the progress bar had moved a little bit.

Does this mean I just gained some experience points?

To the right of the level column, there is also a five-dimensional graph.

The top of the five-dimensional graph is labeled "Strange Value," while the left and right sides are labeled "Fierce Value" and "Evil Value." Below these are "Mystery Level" and "Contagiousness Level," respectively.

The eeriness value is 3, and the ferocity value is 1.

The charm value, mystery value, and contagiousness value are all 0.

Below the five-dimensional diagram is a line of explanatory text.

— "Different sources of experience points only affect the host's profession and skills after leveling up."