CHAPTER 72: CHAPTER 71: GHOSTLY SOULS SAVORING FRAGRANCE

On the Ghost Market street, the eerie moonlight in the sky was actually falling!

Though it only fell halfway, a closer look showed it moved from the zenith to a slightly tilted position.

But the entire Ghost Market was clearly boiling at this moment.

Whether those fixed in place after composing a poem, those who suffered harm for not composing one, or those who hadn’t even managed to do anything yet...

Many people realized and exclaimed: "So the Ghost Market moonfall actually requires ’cloud smoke on paper’!"

"A single Cyan Smoke Poem isn’t enough; does it require a Purple Smoke Poem to bring the moonlight fully down?"

"Or perhaps it needs several Cyan Smokes."

"One Cyan Smoke is extremely difficult already; who could compose several? Even if we joined forces..."

Before the voice could finish, all eyes simultaneously fell upon Chen Xu.

Writing poetry and essays is actually quite different; those who write good essays might not necessarily write good poems.

Even if well-written, a work might merely be considered decent.

The standards of metrical composition and intricate word choices.

But to evoke ’cloud smoke on paper’, strict meter and beautiful wording clearly aren’t nearly enough.

It requires something truly moving, engaging, never tiresome even if recited a hundred or thousand times.

A true masterpiece only becomes more enchanting the more it’s read, its melody swelling the more it’s sung.

Not necessarily needing standard meter, it can be wild and unrestrained or simple and plain.

A good poem, however, touches the heart, might even stir the soul of a ghost.

"The beauty has not aged but affection fades, reclined lazily over the brazier till daylight..."

Behind a stall, a shadow murmured, reading with a raspy voice tinged with sorrow.

More shadows on either side of the long street joined in, lowly chanting the poem.

"Tears soak the silk handkerchief, dreams unfinished, deep into the night, songs play in the front hall..."

"I don’t fully understand, but why does it seem like a living person is sitting deep behind those palace walls?"

"She cannot leave, nor knows what she wants. Open her eyes, it’s either darkness or dawn."

"The flute and zither so noisy, yet none of it concerns her."

"Her only companion is a brazier, those she wishes to remember have forgotten her..."

"Is this a person or an object?"

The shadow swayed, and unknowingly, a tear of the ghost fell.

Drip—

The scholars on the long street instead fell silent.

[You crafted a quatrain comforting the gods and spirits, its taste savored by specters, gaining a drop of Netherworld Essence.]

[Fireworks Value +300]

[Likes +2+2...]

Chen Xu held his pen, yet to set it down, as like a storm of approval, the likes on the Food Cauldron Celestial Book Plate began pouring onto him.

With the bald pen in hand, Chen Xu paused momentarily.

It’s only because he hasn’t possessed the Food Cauldron Celestial Book for long, leaving many profound elements unexplored.

So every discovery comes as a shock.

A brief shock, followed by settled joy.

Clearly, now wasn’t the time for an emotional rollercoaster, so Chen Xu quickly calmed himself.

There were too many likes, he didn’t have time to closely check how many it was.

Just then, a familiar voice came from the crowd, Wu Zhengze sighed, "Truly an exceptional chant! The poem’s language seems simple at first glance, yet its emotions run deep, layer upon layer, seamlessly profound and naturally formed.

There are songs of frontier, of scenery, of farming... but how many can sing palace grievances with such finesse?

Worthy indeed of cloud smoke on paper.

Chen Xu, you possess talent like the brilliance of the moon, shining forth openly now, undeniable!"

As he spoke, he looked at Chen Xu.

Many scholars from Prefecture City present then realized that the author of the Cyan Smoke Poem was named Chen Xu.

At thirteen, Chen Xu achieved first place in the child scholar exam, but that was long ago, any past fame buried under unsuccessful attempts.

Now, Wu Zhengze pronounced his name, to let it truly resound throughout Yunjiang at this moment.

Chen Xu, holding the bald pen, cupped his hands in gratitude towards Wu Zhengze for his acclaim.

"Chen Xu, Brother Chen!" Someone suddenly called out, "Could you craft another Cyan Smoke Poem?"

Expectant gazes turned towards Chen Xu, who replied, "Patience friends, if the moon falls too quickly and you haven’t completed your trades in the Ghost Market, what then?"

This remark, initially fitting, upon reflection, seemed exceedingly audacious.

This brought about soft gasps in the crowd, and someone jested derisively, "Do you truly take cloud smoke on paper as everyday fare, casually obtainable?

Haha, don’t make the world lose its teeth with laughter..."

Who is it?

Before the mocking voice faded, many eyes turned towards the one who scoffed.

Looking closer, it was none other than the fallen Feng Xi.

Feng Xi lay on the ground, his head and face covered in blood, limbs twisted and powerless, with only a breath left.

He chuckled hoarsely, thinking if Chen Xu could lead everyone out through cloud smoke, what would Feng Xi even count as?

Feng Xi was in a pitiful state, yet despite this, someone rebuked him angrily, "Just because you can’t, how do you know Brother Chen can’t?

Relying on your family background, you disregard us impoverished scholars, unaware that it’s precisely us underprivileged ones doing what you dare not dream!

The speaker was Chang Song, pinned down and unable to move by a grain spike.

Though immobile, his words were sharp.

Following that, people criticized Feng Xi or expressed expectations towards Chen Xu.

Of course, no one wanted delays, quickly trading with the Ghost Market stall owners.

They aimed to reduce any harm if they couldn’t produce a poetry shield.

The crowd bustled, paper lanterns flickered.

Yet hardly anyone noticed a skinny young man in the crowd, furrowed brows, eyes anxious.

This was Wang Ji, a legitimate son of the Wang Family.

Wang Ji avoided divination classes and snuck out to disrupt the poetry gathering at the long pavilion.

But he merely intended to swap the Moonlit Beauty Painting in Cui Jingxian’s hand with a real Moonlit Ghost Painting.

The ghost girl he encountered on his return from Qingxu Daoist Palace while paying homage to the Celestial Venerable.

Delayed on the way, darkness fell, and the ghost girl snuck into his carriage intending seduction.

Wang Ji, leveraging his Heart Technique cultivation and Protective Magical Artifact, seized and sealed the ghost girl within a painting.

Upon trading paintings and watching the spectacle, Wang Ji swore he merely wanted to tease Cui Jingxian and others, scaring them with the ghost girl.

Little did he foresee the painting’s opening would directly summon a Ghost Spirit Void Realm.

The Ghost Spirit Void Realm, rare and onerous, now claimed Feng Xi as a confirmed resident.

Whether others could leave depended on the moon’s descent.

Who could truly cause the moonlight to fall?

Could Chen Xu, already praised for crafting a Cyan Smoke Poem, do this?

Wang Ji looked at Chen Xu, holding a gray straw-woven locust.

Long disliking divination, and lacking poetic talent, Wang Ji relied on the numerous treasures he carried.

Thus, Wang Ji managed to buy a straw-woven locust from a Ghost Market stall by sacrificing his Soul-Calming Jade Pendant.

Though light, the locust still weighed him down, rendering him immobile.

Wang Ji worried that Chen Xu hadn’t picked up the Bone Mirror he intended to purchase.

If he held the Bone Mirror and found himself immobile, how could he pen another cloud smoke poem?

Wang Ji, consumed with tension, felt his heart pounding in his throat.