Chapter 40 040 The Ghost Calls My Name
Fu Luo searched for many days but could not find Yu Meng's whereabouts. Finally, on this night, he discovered the location of her divine essence.
The sky was frighteningly gloomy, with thunder and lightning, and the heavy rain almost blurred the sky and earth.
Fu Luo braved the rain to reach a deserted peach grove, where he saw a figure lying under a tree.
"Desire to dream!"
Fu Luo rushed over, intending to pull the person up, but unexpectedly grabbed nothing, watching helplessly as his hand pierced through Yu Meng's body.
"How could this be? How could this be?" He was incredulous, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. "Your divine essence... you actually cultivated with someone else?! Have you gone mad! Yu Meng, have you gone mad?"
Fu Luo repeated this sentence over and over again, as if by saying it, everything before his eyes would not be real, but just a crazy and absurd nightmare.
Yu Meng opened her eyes wearily and saw Fu Luo Shen Zun standing in the heavy rain, his face even more pale than a ghost's. She felt somewhat helpless.
"Oh dear, you still managed to find me, really... You've given me no peace even in death..."
Seeing that Yu Meng's body was about to dissipate, Fu Luo finally came to his senses, made a hand seal, and sent his divine power to her. However, Yu Meng's divine essence had already dissipated, so even if he sent her more divine power, how could she withstand it?
In the end, it was all in vain.
"No, you can't die, Yu Meng, you can't die! I saved your life, it's mine! I went to so much trouble to preserve your spirit, to steal you away right under the noses of all the gods and Buddhas! Without my permission, how dare you die? How dare you die?!"
In the end, Fu Luo was so furious that he was more terrifying than any demon in hell.
But Yu Meng ultimately vanished before his eyes, completely and utterly disappeared into the world.
Fu Luo knelt at the spot where Yu Meng had died, his hands outstretched as if still embracing her soft body. His eyes were filled with tears, but his expression was ferocious.
"I know, you don't want to be a god anymore, you want to be reborn as a human, right? You want to use this method to get rid of me forever, and then go live your wonderful mortal life? Haha, let me tell you, don't even think about it! I curse you! I curse you to never live past nineteen years old in every lifetime, to suffer the pain of national ruin and family destruction in the prime of your life, and to die at the hands of your beloved in every reincarnation!! I curse you, I curse you..."
In the end, Fu Luo couldn't continue, because he knew that the Dream God Essence had completely dissipated and there was no possibility of reincarnation. Even if he described the curse as ten, a hundred, or a thousand times more vicious, there would be no chance of it coming true.
The shining star he had silently admired for so many years finally fell.
At the same time, in a dilapidated temple thousands of miles away.
The boy found two stones, pieced them together to form a simple altar, placed the vajra he had been carrying on it, and devoutly kowtowed in worship.
"Although I don't know which god you are, thank you for saving my life."
The boy carefully lit the half-burnt incense stick he found in his sleeve and offered it before the altar, then lit a flickering candle. His dark eyes reflected the candlelight, clear and bright.
He had never worshipped the gods before, and he didn't know what kind of prayers to say. After struggling for a long time, his face turned red, and he could only bring out the auspicious words he used to say when he was begging on the street.
"I wish you great wealth and prosperity, longevity, good fortune, and divine protection..."
As the boy spoke, he realized that this was not quite right. She was such a special and dazzling existence, so how could she be treated like an ordinary person and only enjoy ordinary blessings?
So he stared quietly at the vajra for a long time, then added a sentence—
"I wish you to enjoy all the love and care in the world, happiness and health, and joy every day."
He didn't know any fancy words, only this simple wish: he was willing to give everything and bestow all his best blessings upon her.
After the prayer, he wrote four characters on the ground in a crooked manner: "Xiangke Canghan".
Between heaven and earth, two halos of light emanated simultaneously. One came from a small, dilapidated temple, while the other originated from the peach grove where Yu Meng had fallen. The two lights converged and eventually disappeared into a star in the night sky, obscured by dark clouds.
...
Cang Han carefully carried the vajra on his person, not daring to expose it to anyone. Little did he know that on the very night he used the vajra to worship Yu Meng, two passing thugs had already seen him and harbored evil intentions.
The two did not act immediately, but patiently observed for several days. Seeing that Cang Han was all alone and had no companions to rely on, they became less hesitant.
They stormed into the dilapidated temple at night and robbed it openly. Cang Han woke up and fought back desperately, but the two men pinned him to the ground.
"You little bastard, let go!"
"Are you tired of living? If you know what's good for you, hand over the stuff!"
Cang Han's head was kicked and shoved wildly by the two men, and blood flowed from his eyes, nose and mouth, but he still held the Vajra Pestle firmly in his arms.
"If you don't let go, I'll kill you!"
"You little brat! Get a rope and strangle him!"
Gradually, Cang Han could no longer hear the insults from the two men, nor could he feel the pain in his body. He vaguely smelled a pleasant peach blossom fragrance, which wafted in with the swaying bed curtains.
That was the fragrance of a young girl, sweet and gentle.
"Hey, what's your name?" she asked lazily, lying on the bed during a break in their lovemaking.
He kissed her porcelain-white back repeatedly, and after a long silence, he said somewhat embarrassedly, "I don't have a name, I only know that my surname is Cang."
"No name?" She turned over, a hint of surprise in her bright eyes. "How can you not have a name? How do people address you?"
"No one named me, and no one called me."
The boy's voice was low and husky, his peach blossom eyes calmly gazing at her, his pupils like black ink, revealing a loneliness and isolation that seemed out of place for someone his age.
He thought for a moment and then said, "If I offend other people, they will call me a little beggar."
“This isn’t a name. A person needs a name to walk through the world.” The girl propped her head up with one hand, seemingly troubled for him.
"Would you... name me?" the boy asked, his eyelashes lowered, a hint of helplessness in his voice.
She was a cloud in the sky, while he was just mud beneath people's feet. He didn't know if his rash request was disrespectful to the celestial beings, after all, he was unworthy.
To the girl's surprise, her body, which had been limp from his ministrations, straightened up again: "You really mean it?"
He paused for a moment and nodded: "It is my greatest honor to receive a name from you."
"Hmm... Today happens to be the Minor Cold solar term, so how about I call you Canghan? There are only twenty-odd days left until the New Year. I hope your life gets better and better, your future is bright, and you have peace and safety every year."
"Cang Han..." The boy murmured the name repeatedly, not feeling displeased by the other party's hasty naming. He couldn't help but smile, and pressed himself against the girl, saying in a slightly coquettish tone, "Then call me."
"Hmm? What's your name?"
"Call me by my name."
"Cang Han".
"Okay, call again."
"Cang Han..."
"Say it again..."
"So cold...so cold..."
The boy's pupils grew deeper with each soft call, until finally, they held only that captivating jade-like color.
That was the ultimate happiness of his life.
Happiness to the point of death.
He died in her eyes, which were as shimmering as a lake.
In the end, he didn't live to see the New Year.
...
Even after he breathed his last, the boy's pale hands were still tightly gripping the vajra.
The two thugs panicked when they saw the man was dead.
"What do we do? Someone's been killed!"
"What's there to be afraid of! He's just a stinking beggar. If he dies, he dies. Just bury him!"
The two men used a great deal of effort to break the boy's finger bones one by one before they could pry out the vajra. Then they hastily took the body outside the city and buried it.
This vajra was exquisitely crafted and unlike any ordinary object. After it was sold, the two thugs made a fortune. However, not long after, they all died suddenly. Later, the family that took over the vajra also suffered misfortune. Their mansion burned down and their family fell into decline.
The family considered the vajra to be an ominous object and resold it to a wealthy merchant.
Although the wealthy merchant had heard about the family's tragic story, he took a chance and bought the vajra at a bargain price. However, not long after, misfortune struck the family. First, his wife and children fell ill one after another, and then his business gradually went downhill.
Just then, a Taoist priest happened to be traveling around the area, so the wealthy merchant spent a lot of money to invite him over.
The Taoist priest looked at the vajra and said, "It's just that there's a vengeful spirit on it. Once I've helped it pass on, it won't be a problem."
Upon hearing the Taoist priest's confident words, the wealthy merchant finally breathed a sigh of relief and quickly prepared ritual implements, cinnabar, incense, and candles as instructed by the priest, intending to send away the "ancestor" covering the vajra.
Unexpectedly, halfway through the ritual of deliverance, the vajra suddenly shone with golden light, backlashing the Taoist priest and causing him to vomit blood.
The Taoist priest knew that he was no match for the evil spirit with his own abilities, so he sought help from the immortal sect.
The immortal sect sent out cultivators, who finally used immortal techniques to make the evil spirit on the Vajra Pestle manifest.
It turned out to be a handsome young man dressed in rags as a beggar.
"You wicked creature, why do you commit evil?" the cultivator demanded.
"Doing evil?" the boy sneered. "This vajra is mine. They want to take what's mine, can't I even fight back?"
The wealthy merchant immediately retorted, "Nonsense! I clearly bought this vajra with my own money! How can you say it was stolen?"
The monk said to the boy, "No matter what happened to you in your life, you are dead now. A dead person cannot linger in the mortal world. I will send you away. Go to the ghost realm as soon as possible, cross the Bridge of Helplessness, drink the Meng Po soup, and be reincarnated."
However, the little beggar was ungrateful and clung tightly to the light of the vajra, refusing to leave even an inch.
"You wretched creature! How stubborn you are!" the cultivator roared, quickening his hand seals.
The vajra shone even brighter, dazzling like the sun. The beggar ghost spirit bled from its seven orifices, its expression one of agony. Finally, it could no longer stand and knelt down, but its pale hands still gripped the vajra tightly.
"You wretched creature, you still won't leave?! You still won't let go?!" The cultivator raised his voice and increased his oppressive aura.
"This vajra is mine. Even if I die, I will not let go..." The little beggar spat out blood, and the hand holding the vajra was also injured by the magic, bleeding profusely.
At this point, the wealthy merchant chimed in, hiding behind the monk: "You were a beggar in your past life, weren't you? How could you possess such a valuable treasure? In my opinion, this vajra is not yours at all! You stole it!"
The little beggar, delirious, gritted his teeth and uttered each word slowly and deliberately: "It's mine, this vajra is mine, it was given to me by someone..."
The cultivator pointed his whisk at the little beggar: "Let go! If you don't let go, I'll make sure your soul is scattered!"
The wealthy businessman asked, "Then tell me, who gave you this vajra?"
The little beggar sneered, "You don't deserve to know."
Blood dripped from between her pearly white teeth, running down her lips and across her pale, thin jaw.
His bloodshot eyes gazed coldly at the world.
"None of you... deserve to know..."
Ultimately, because the vengeful spirit could not be exorcised, the cultivator suppressed it along with the vajra in a very remote dry well outside the city, and set up a bewitching array to prevent people from getting close.
Although the wealthy merchant felt the pinch, he dared not risk his life and fortune. He simply asked the cultivator, "Why not completely destroy that Vajra Pestle and scatter the vengeful spirit?"
The cultivator said meaningfully, "This vengeful spirit entered the ghost realm through lust, making it the lowest-ranking lustful ghost. It suffered misery and misery in life, and even in death, it receives no respect. Its malevolence is too great. Fortunately, it had ties in this life, so it still retains a trace of humanity. If I were to scatter its soul by brute force today, it would surely return in the future, and then it would be a scourge that brings untold suffering to the human world..."
[Volume Two: The Goddess Transforms into a Prostitute (Complete)]
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