Chapter 47: Grain

It was precisely in such disaster-stricken places where the local administration had completely collapsed that large numbers of refugees and bandits emerged.

Similarly, it was only because the government and the local divine hierarchy had broken down that so many lonely, wandering ghosts roamed the land.

These solitary specters were formed from condensed grievances, harboring a deep aversion to the living.

Yet, at the same time, they felt an intense craving for the vital blood and Qi of living mortals.

Because these stray ghosts lacked descendants to offer them incense and ancestral sacrifices, they perpetually existed in a state of starvation.

And the flesh and blood of the living could fill their bellies.

At this moment, although they felt a degree of apprehension and fear, they were nonetheless preparing to converge upon the campsite.

"This is bad..."

Throughout the journey, Wang Zhenling had carefully avoided all cities, especially those that lay in ruins. He gave them a wide berth, passing by them at most during daylight hours and detouring around them as night fell.

He had anticipated that in those abandoned cities, even the wicked ghosts suppressed by the City God might have escaped.

Therefore, he consistently avoided coming close to any city along the way, particularly at night, setting up camp no less than ten miles away.

Yet he never expected to encounter such a multitude of malevolent ghosts right here at this desolate pavilion!

Back when he was a government official, he possessed an official seal that allowed him to mobilize state Qi and even nether-soldiers at a moment's notice. He would not have taken such entities seriously in the slightest!

Now, Wang Zhenling still did not hold these ghosts in any regard.

Though Wang Zhenling had left the county seat of Xiapu and could no longer utilize the collective fortune of the county's common folk—which was equivalent to losing access to the public treasury—his status as a county magistrate meant something else. He had earned the heartfelt gratitude and respect of tens of thousands of citizens, as well as the unwavering loyalty of the soldiers and clerks under his command. This external fortune was equivalent to his own private treasury and personal assets.

No matter where he went, he carried it with him!

And this, too, constituted Wang Zhenling's personal external fortune.

Wang Zhenling's innate destiny was quite ordinary, originally destined at best for the fate of a petty official drawing a hundred-shi stipend.

However, an innate destiny merely restricted a person's framework—or rather, their lower limit—rather than capping their maximum potential.

For instance, Wang Zhenling was already a county magistrate, about to enter the capital to take up a formal post!

With his external fortune flourishing immensely, backed by the River Central Chen clan above and supported by the people of an entire county below, his external fortune was millions of times stronger than that of an ordinary person.

Presently, Wang Zhenling's external fortune had turned crimson, resembling a blazing fire.

Among the many newly appointed thousand-shi county magistrates in the Great Cheng Dynasty, there were hardly any whose external fortune could surpass his!

Possessing such a flourishing and formidable destiny, who could Wang Zhenling possibly fear?

Of course, fortune was difficult to come by, especially one's own.

When utilizing the government's collective fortune, Wang Zhenling had naturally been quite generous.

That was akin to handling affairs with public funds—naturally, one could spend it however they pleased.

But now, when it came to using his own private wealth, he had to calculate and economize carefully!

Previously, when Wang Zhenling directly used official fortune to suppress people, it was equivalent to crushing them with money.

Right now, he had no intention of squandering his personal fortune in such a manner.

Human beings were not superior to beasts because their physical strength was greater, but because they possessed intelligence and knew how to utilize tools.

And the reason cultivators were cultivators, when dealing with demons and ghosts, was not because their cultivation base was vastly superior to theirs, but because they had mastered Daoist arts and divine powers!

Just like at this moment, purely in terms of physical strength, the soul intensity of a cultivator in the Out-of-Body stage was roughly on par with a fierce ghost.

However, with a single hand seal, an incantation chanted, and a mental visualization, Wang Zhenling conjured sweet dew and gentle rain that immediately began to fall in a fine drizzle.

Those wild ghosts were like travelers dying of thirst in a desert who suddenly encountered a downpour; they rushed forward to snatch and devour it.

Meanwhile, Wang Zhenling had already led the three little foxes back to the safety of the campsite, returning to his physical body.

After the wild ghosts had scrambled for the dew for a while, the sweet rain abruptly stopped. Left unsatisfied, they began to move toward the campsite once more.

Yet before they even came close to the camp, a bolt of Samadhi Suppression Thunder flashed through the air, sending sparks flying in all directions. Five or six ghosts in the vicinity were struck by the flames, instantly turning into human-shaped torches that refused to be extinguished until their souls were burned to ashes and scattered into nothingness.

This sort of Samadhi Suppression Thunder was something even fierce ghosts and nether-soldiers—who possessed minor divine protection under local earth deities—could not endure.

Let alone these ordinary wild ghosts, most of which were mere grievance-ridden specters, with only the rarest few being fierce ghosts.

Meeting this kind of suppression thunder meant nothing less than utter annihilation.

With the camp protected by thunder and fire, and Wang Zhenling occasionally casting spells to provide sweet dew and ritual food, the chaotic horde of ghosts naturally dared not attack the camp; they contented themselves with fighting over the ritual offerings.

And thus, the night passed without incident.

Wang Zhenling inwardly reflected that Yu Province was an inner commandery of the Central Plains, a land of abundance and fertility.

The very name "Yu" implied richness, describing land that was fertile, flat, and vast.

It was the core of the Great Cheng Dynasty's rule and its primary grain-producing region.

Yet for this very Yu Province to be reduced to such a state under the plague—falling far short even of his own Xiami Commandery—showed that the overall situation of the Great Cheng Dynasty could hardly be good!

With the journey being this perilous even with his personal protection, it was no wonder that all commercial travel had completely ceased!

This incident was, in truth, merely a minor interlude along the way.

In reality, the troubles encountered in the subsequent journey were by no means few.

Refugees and wild ghosts were met with constantly.

However, the most troublesome issue of all was the depletion of their food supplies.

The caravan could only carry a limited amount of grain, requiring them to purchase provisions along the way.

Yet as they traveled onward, commanderies and counties lay in ruins; thousands of miles echoed with no sound of chickens, and white bones lay exposed across the fields. Where on earth were they supposed to buy grain?

Wang Zhenling himself would be fine, but with so many people and horses to feed, he had to find a solution!

"If all else fails, I will simply have to cross over to another world and bring back grain.

It's just that doing so consumes a massive amount of spiritual Qi, which isn't very cost-effective!

Still, if there truly is no other way, that will be my only option!"

Having made up his mind, he once again projected his soul out of his body during the night to scout ahead and see if there was any place nearby where grain could be purchased.

A journey of several hundreds of li, if traveled with a massive caravan, would likely take several days.

However, if scouted by means of a projected soul, going and returning would take at most an hour or two.

Thus, under the cover of night, Wang Zhenling's soul left his physical shell and wandered through the spiritual realm.

By this time, after a period of consolidation, his lunar wheel celestial palace had grown close to three inches in size, meaning his cultivation level was drawing ever closer to the realm of Spirit-Growth.

The Spirit-Germination stage was equivalent to a seed sprouting, whereas Spirit-Growth represented the shooting up and flourishing of a plant.

To reach the realm of Spirit-Growth, one needed to borrow external elements, refining them into one's soul to serve as its anchor and support.

Orthodox cultivators invariably used their self-cultivated Astral Qi as the anchor for their souls.

During the Spirit-Germination stage, released Astral Qi extended merely a few dozen丈, or at most around a hundred丈.

By the time one reached the Spirit-Growth stage, the Astral Qi and the soul condensed further, taking on a tangible, substantive form capable of journeying dozens or hundreds of li outside the body.

Though Wang Zhenling's spiritual power was now sufficient, his realm had not yet fully caught up.