Chapter 21: The Ghost Tide

In this world, there is no underworld. Beyond the ancestral spirits that receive offerings and the spiritual realms where they reside, most ghosts who have lost their sacrificial offerings wander aimlessly throughout the world. This is the very reason why, in Eastern tradition, the continuity of incense and ancestral worship is held in such high regard. To be without descendants and to have one's incense extinguished is the most terrifying fate imaginable.

Generally speaking, as long as one has descendants, most ghosts should receive offerings. Yet, the world is fickle, and for many reasons, countless spirits find themselves severed from these rites, left to drift as lonely, wild ghosts. Over time, these wandering spirits only multiply, occasionally gathering into a "ghost tide" during the bitter depths of winter.

Though it was not the heart of winter, an untold number of lonely ghosts drifted through the wilderness. Wang Zhenling scattered spirit food everywhere, drawing in all the wild spirits from a radius of several dozen miles, sparking a frantic scramble among the countless apparitions. Not stopping there, he sent paper-crafted ingots flying through the air, which, upon hitting the ground, transformed into glistening, heavy gold ingots that radiated an alluring luster. Seeing this, the wild ghosts instinctively abandoned the food to fight over the wealth.

"That should be enough." Wang Zhenling smiled, then led the throng of ghosts toward the local postal station.

His assessment was spot on. The Emperor’s envoy had come from humble beginnings; his fate was originally destined for a life of obscurity, with no hope of being recommended for civil service or entering the Imperial Academy. Yet, through a twist of fate, he had managed to enter the Hongdu Gate Academy, becoming a protégé of the Emperor and eventually an official in the Ministry of Justice. Naturally, he was deeply grateful and fiercely loyal to the throne. It was precisely for this reason that he loathed Wang Zhenling so intensely. That Wang Zhenling would treat the Emperor’s grace as worthless was, in his eyes, a heinous crime.

After venting his rage, the envoy was suddenly gripped by a frantic fluttering of his eyelids, and an ominous premonition washed over him—as if some great calamity were imminent.

At that very moment, cries of alarm erupted from the outer courtyard: "Ghosts... a ghost tide! It isn't the season for this, how can there be so many..."

The envoy’s heart skipped a beat. Just as he was about to send men to investigate, someone burst into the room, shouting, "My Lord, it is dire! A ghost tide has broken out outside. I know not how many spirits are swarming and encircling the station."

"A ghost tide? How can there be a ghost tide at this time of year? It is not the cold season!" The envoy was stunned.

Yet, from beyond the walls, the faint, chilling sound of countless weeping and wailing spirits began to rise, setting the heart a-tremble. It was truly as if a legion of ghosts had descended. The envoy’s expression shifted, but he forced himself to remain calm. After all, he had more than two hundred guards at his command, along with a talisman for summoning two hundred ghost soldiers. More importantly, before leaving Shenluo, the Emperor had bestowed upon him two Imperial Guard ghost soldiers for protection. These "Imperial Guard" spirits were the Emperor’s private forces—each one a heroic soul as powerful as the primordial spirit of a high-level Taoist practitioner. Thinking of this, the envoy felt a sense of relief; with such formidable power, he had no reason to fear a ghost tide.

Although the postal station consisted of two courtyards, it was situated at a major crossroads—a place where, as the saying goes, one is far from any village or shop. Consequently, even behind the back courtyard, there was only wilderness, now swarming with an unknown number of ghosts. They surged forward, unafraid of the station’s aura, and began to pour in.

A postal station is merely the most basic level of the Great Cheng government’s infrastructure—not an administrative body, but a hybrid of a security outpost and a relay station. It held no power over the populace, and the area it served contained only a few hundred or a thousand people at most. The collective aura gathered there was quite limited; if the aura of a county-level station is like an umbrella held high, then the aura of this station was like a mere veil. A few stray ghosts would naturally fear it and dare not intrude, but with thousands upon thousands gathered, how could such a thin barrier hold them back?

As the countless ghosts flooded in, the station’s protective aura shattered with a loud pop. The spirits surged into the inner courtyard.

The guards in the inner courtyard were mostly chosen from the Imperial Guard, or were personal retainers of the envoy. This highlighted the weakness of officials from humble origins: a lack of deep-rooted foundations. The Imperial Guard had enjoyed long years of peace, recruiting only the "good families" from the Sanhe region—the most prosperous area surrounding the capital of Shenluo, the very heart of the empire. In the classical era, the more prosperous and wealthy a region, the less likely it was to produce elite soldiers. Moreover, the Imperial Guard, stationed to protect the capital, had no opportunity for actual combat. Over hundreds of years, the ranks had become filled with the sons of officials, nobles, or at the very least, wealthy merchants. They could put on a good show, but when faced with genuine danger, their incompetence was fully exposed.

Wang Zhenling had seen through them, recognizing them as nothing more than gilded spears. Their performance proved him right. They were accustomed to throwing their weight around in the markets of Shenluo or acting as ceremonial guards for the Emperor, but when truly confronted with a ghost tide, they were terrified to the point of collapse. Having been raised in the Sanhe region—the Emperor’s divinely protected core—they had never witnessed such a sight. Seeing the endless sea of ghosts, their hearts failed them; almost none had the courage to raise their weapons. Those few who did were lacking in blood-courage, shrinking back so timidly that they couldn't even injure the spirits, and nearly ended up wounded themselves.

Panic spread as the Imperial guards cried out, "These ghosts are not afraid of weapons!"

In an instant, the little courage they had gathered vanished like snow under the sun. As for those who never had any courage to begin with, they retreated, desperately trying to hide behind others. But with ghosts swarming in from every direction, where could they hide?

"Useless trash..." Even the envoy had not imagined that his guards would prove so utterly cowardly. Only the few retainers he had personally recruited showed any measure of bravery, taking up arms to defend him.

"The Imperial Guard are supposed to be the wings of the nation, yet they are this incompetent. When I return to the capital, I shall surely report this to His Majesty and demand a total reorganization of the Imperial Guard..."