Chapter 115: Spirit Rice Path-Opening

Jiao Fengqing came running up the stairs, panting for breath. She clutched Chen Ji’s requested items in her arms and placed them on the table. “Master Chen, will these do?”

In addition to the rice and cutlery he’d asked for, she’d also brought salt, incense candles, and a censer for holding them. Footsteps pounded up the stairs two or three at a time, and the innkeeper appeared. “Miss Jiao, I found what you wanted! The kitchen was just prepping it!”

He hefted up a large bundle. At first glance, it held fruits and dishes: apples, bananas, and oranges, along with a box of braised pork, a box of red-braised pork, and a hefty pack of silver ingot paper money—heaven knows where he’d scrounged that from.

Chen Ji felt instantly invigorated. No wonder she’d climbed to Asia-Pacific regional manager; her knack for thinking ahead was no joke. He’d only specified rice and utensils, but she’d figured he might need an altar setup and grabbed everything else too.

The innkeeper scratched his head. “This paper money’s leftovers from Qingming last month. Should be okay, right?”

“Oh, right!” Before Chen Ji or the others could reply, the man darted to the adjacent storeroom and returned with a brick and a stainless steel basin. “For burning paper, do it in here. Brick underneath works fine.”

With that, he departed briskly, raising no objection to paper-burning in his upscale inn. What a joke—Miss Jiao had already wired him fifty thousand. Any complaints? She’d cover all damages. Cash in hand, he wouldn’t bat an eye if she gutted the soft furnishings.

Jiao Fengqing fixed Chen Ji with an unwavering stare. “Master Chen, what next?”

“Stand by for now. Do as I say when I say it; otherwise, stay put and quiet.” Chen Ji set down his bamboo basket. Second Master Huang poked out his small head, startling Jiao Fengqing. As Chen Ji arranged the items, he glanced back at her gasp and soothed, “No worries. Don’t be afraid—Second Grandpa’s very spiritually attuned.”

Jiao Fengqing nodded vigorously. It wasn’t Second Master Huang himself that spooked her, just the surprise of an animal popping from the basket.

She sneaked another look at him. He resembled the video version—Chen Ji had called Second Grandpa spiritually attuned back then, and she’d assumed a clever, tamed yellow weasel, standout in its kind. But now? That spiritual attunement seemed profoundly real.

Recalling the video mention of Second Grandpa loving flattery, she stepped back, dropped to her knees with a thud, and kowtowed three times with utmost respect. “I must trouble Master Chen and Second Grandpa today.”

Second Grandpa’s beady green eyes locked on Jiao Fengqing without blinking. His lips suddenly split into a grin—a sight that would half-kill anyone else in normal times. But Jiao Fengqing only felt a wave of relief. She kowtowed twice more vigorously, reddening her forehead.

Chen Ji had stepped aside the moment she knelt. He was here for pay, no need for her worship. These were plainly for Second Grandpa anyway, with him incidental. Second Grandpa enjoyed it—let her; she’d hustle harder later.

Her lips moved, poised for a vow. Chen Ji cut in sharply. “Step aside. Don’t interfere.”

Vows to Second Grandpa weren’t casual. Fulfill one, and he was your cute, devoted supercar. Fail, and he was a heart-ripping, blood-guzzling fiend.

Jiao Fengqing obeyed instantly, pressing against the wall. Second Grandpa wriggled from the basket and leaped to Chen Ji’s shoulder. The altar was set: Jiao Fengqing hadn’t skimped on bowls and chopsticks—she’d hauled back five full sets.

Chen Ji filled the censer with rice and wedged candles into its side holders. He filled a bowl with clean water, then drew a small knife from the basket and handed it to Jiao Fengqing with an alcohol wipe. “Clean it thoroughly, tip especially, then sterilize your middle finger.”

A drop of blood might be required soon.

After a pause, he added, “Careful now. Might not need it. If so, just a tiny bit—like for a blood sugar test. No heavy hand.”

Jiao Fengqing chirped assent. “Prick it now to prep?”

Ordinary folk would tense up. Chen Ji nodded. “Fine.”

She swabbed with alcohol while Chen Ji set the water bowl on the table and scooped a handful of rice. She hissed in pain as blood welled on her fingertip. He nodded and scattered the rice.

Grains pattered down ceaselessly, blanketing much of the living room floor in perfect evenness. Chen Ji approved. Second Grandpa piped up: 【Your form’s sloppy! Back in my day, they’d laugh you off the street!】

Chen Ji: “…”

【And you’re doing Spirit Rice Path-Opening—why not haul the old folks here? Save effort, duh?】

Chen Ji: “…Right!”

The Spirit Rice Path-Opening technique used grains, rich in heaven-and-earth essence as natural spiritual matter. Grandpa’s notes described it: spread rice to bridge yin and yang, guiding stray souls homeward.

Chen Ji strode to the bedroom, carried out the elderly couple one by one, and settled them in the living room. His stamina held fine for two seniors. Jiao Fengqing offered help, but he waved her off.

Her blood was already drawn—if she lifted them, would they have to redo the prick? That would be messy. What if she botched her finger and couldn’t work?

With the elders placed, Chen Ji grabbed a broom and swept the rice aside along the door-and-window paths toward them, clearing lanes.

Rice bridged realms but suppressed souls at times—hence, he had to clear it.

At the altar, Chen Ji pulled out a talisman paper, holding it without lighting it. He lit the candles and three sticks of incense. Dipping his finger in water, he traced a Profound Penetration Talisman in the air. Immediately, a chilling wind blew, and a deep, dark rift split the view before him. In his eyes, beams of rice formed a shimmering bridge leading into it.

He called: “Jiao Wenhe, Lu Qingguang—Jiao Wenhe, Lu Qingguang—”

A void of silence met him, with no answer. He barked: “Jiao Wenhe, Lu Qingguang—return!”

Was it a faint reply, or an illusion? Chen Ji cocked his head, listening, then beckoned Jiao Fengqing. “Here!”

She approached swiftly, skirting rice grains. Chen Ji dipped her finger in the water; scant blood barely tinted it. His talisman blazed unbidden. “Call your parents’ names!”

Jiao Fengqing bellowed without pause: “Jiao Wenhe! Lu Qingguang! Jiao Wenhe, Lu Qingguang!”

“Dad! Mom! Where are you? I’m right here! Come back—Daddy! Mommy—!”

Second Grandpa’s tail flicked Chen Ji’s shoulder: 【Hear that?】

He’d caught the response—had Chen Ji?

Chen Ji’s eyes half-lidded: “Got it.”

They were distant, but responding.

Second Grandpa nearly prompted the next steps when Chen Ji dumped the whole rice sack. Milky spiritual qi flared bright; the bridge swelled vast and sharp.

A cold wind howled even fiercer.

Chen Ji gestured at the basin of silver ingots. Boom! They erupted in flame. “Friends on the road, please grant passage!”

The gale cut off. Blazing paper whirled upward in a fiery vortex.

【Whoa.】 Second Grandpa said: 【Kid, you know how to handle things!】

The path was opened—but the returnees might not be her parents. Two live shells would tempt any ghost. Even if entry was impossible, a petty grudge could snag them mid-return.

Yet money makes even ghosts push the grindstone.

The bribes were ample, the rites were proper, and with Chen Ji presiding, there was no interference. It was obvious an expert had aided them. Why block them and risk reprisal? It was better to take the boon and wave them through.

Chen Ji’s take on it was simple: whether people or ghosts, they all dealt in favors. Money cleared roads. Tales told of buying life from ghost messengers with enough paper—even defying Yan Wang’s midnight doom.

The black tunnel lit with a sudden glow, and a cool breeze followed. Jiao Fengqing sensed it too. Chen Ji eyed the light morph into a vacant-eyed, hand-clasped couple emerging from the ghost path onto the rice bridge. “Keep calling!”

She cried their names afresh.

Their eyes cleared at her voice, and their memories dawned. They looked in panic at Jiao Fengqing, then at Chen Ji’s gaze. He jabbed a finger at the living room elders. “Not returning?!”

Their expressions snapped keen. They rose on the breeze, streaking down the cleared path to their bodies. Chen Ji relaxed—this sealed it.

But abruptly, an anomaly occurred!

The couple stalled before their shells.

Lu Qingguang clutched Jiao Wenhe’s hand, eyes alight: 【How about I take yours—you take mine?】

Jiao Wenhe: 【…That doesn’t seem right.】

【What’s wrong with it?! You unwilling?!】

【…No, no…】

【Then it’s settled! I’ve never even been a man before—let me give it a try… Isn’t this capable gentleman right here? If we get bored later, we can always switch back.】

【This isn’t such a good idea, is it? It’s a huge decision—think it over some more…】

Jiao Fengqing’s voice was hoarse. Seeing her parents still sitting there in a daze, she felt a pang of sorrow. She turned to Chen Ji, who twitched the corner of his mouth. “…It’s already done, but it’ll take a little time. Just wait a moment.”

To spare the two of them total social suicide, Chen Ji was going all out.