Chapter 227: Chapter 155: Sword Not Yet Worn, But Already in the Jianghu
Upon entering the Ghostly Realm, he saw no prompts from the damned Keeper, no narration. While playing the part of Gongsun Mo, he was completely powerless, unable to unleash his Mighty Man strength. However, this didn’t matter. Zheng Xiu had come to terms with the situation shortly after going upstairs. In fact, the only Ghostly Realms he had truly experienced were [Baili Village] and the [Immortal Maiden Temple].
His experiences in [Baili Village] and the [Immortal Maiden Temple] were also completely different.
[Baili Village] existed twenty years ago, in a bygone era. After Zheng Xiu cleared [Baili Village], the result was that Feng Bei and Wei Chen survived, which in turn caused a series of subsequent worldline shifts.
The [Immortal Maiden Temple], on the other hand, existed in reality, unlike [Baili Village]. When he cleared the [Immortal Maiden Temple], his reality was not affected in any way.
Now, entering the Cannibal Scroll once again, Zheng Xiu felt he shouldn’t judge this place based on his limited past experiences. Otherwise, he would be the one to suffer in the end.
’First, I’ll set aside the idea of being able to load a save file. I’ll treat that as a final safety net. After all, if I really die, I only have one life.’
Zheng Xiu muttered to himself inwardly.
During his conversation with Chu Chengfeng, Zheng Xiu noticed something very strange.
Right now, he was Gongsun Mo.
But he wasn’t entirely Gongsun Mo.
He knew he was playing the part of Gongsun Mo.
Yet he couldn’t change certain fixed "lines" and "actions."
For example, whenever he tried to say he was "Zheng Shan," the words that came out of his mouth would always be, "I am Gongsun Mo." This repeatedly drew strange looks from Chu Chengfeng, who would laugh and ask if his Younger Brother Gongsun had had too much to drink.
But there were still many questions Zheng Xiu was able to ask.
For example, he could ask what year it was.
He could ask Chu Chengfeng his age, where his home was, and if he was married.
After a few more cups, the alcohol went to Chu Chengfeng’s head, and he answered everything with great enthusiasm, holding nothing back. He didn’t notice his Younger Brother Gongsun was busy counting the years on his fingers.
’The third year of the Tianjing era? The third year of the reign of Emperor Wei Jing, the second emperor of the Daqian Dynasty?’
’According to the history books, during Emperor Wei Jing’s reign, he was led astray by treacherous ministers and lost the hearts of the people. Civil unrest erupted, and during his twenty-five years on the throne, the common folk suffered endlessly. It’s known as the darkest twenty-five years in the history of the Daqian Dynasty—a stain on the Daqian Royal Family.’
’But the historical records of this period are vague. No matter how much Historians investigated, they could never uncover the inside story.’
’It’s as if someone deliberately erased this part of history.’
’If my calculations are correct, the third year of Tianjing... that’s more than two hundred years ago!’
Whether it was the peaceful and prosperous Daqian before he was imprisoned;
Or the world of resurgent mysteries he experienced after his imprisonment and the Baili Village tragedy, where the strange and uncanny hid in plain sight;
To Zheng Xiu, the "Martial World" before him was something he had only ever encountered in television dramas, movies, and Martial Hero novels.
But now that he was truly in the Martial World, the vibrant, gritty atmosphere of the Jianghu and the speech and manners of the Knights all felt incredibly foreign to Zheng Xiu.
That was why, when he first opened his eyes, Zheng Xiu had the mistaken impression that he had "transmigrated."
The sword isn’t yet properly fastened, but to step out the door is to enter the Jianghu.
His current predicament couldn’t help but make Zheng Xiu feel just that sort of helplessness.
Zheng Xiu wondered where Gongsun Mo, from two hundred years ago, got the nerve to venture out into the world all by himself.
Chu Chengfeng raised his cup for a toast. Zheng Xiu, in a daze, just kept chugging cup after cup as if it were water.
"Gongsun Mo" clearly couldn’t hold his liquor.
After a few cups, Zheng Xiu grew dizzy, and the image of Chu Chengfeng before him split into several shadows.
He even felt Chu Chengfeng’s smile was becoming increasingly lecherous.
Gongsun Mo was drunk.
Utterly smashed.
And he dragged Zheng Xiu down with him into drunkenness.
「Late the next morning.」
The first thing Zheng Xiu did upon waking was to check his surroundings.
He was in a room at an inn. There was no one else there.
As he climbed out of bed, Zheng Xiu felt a splitting headache.
’Damn it. Could this world inside the scroll be a Ghostly Realm constructed from the ’memories of Gongsun Mo’?’
Zheng Xiu clutched his head and sat on the bed for a long moment. As he took in the lingering smell of alcohol in the room, the events of the previous day slowly came back to him.
If this were merely a false world, the feeling of being drunk would never have been so realistic.
Combined with his current role as "Gongsun Mo," Zheng Xiu was ninety percent sure that the Gongsun Mo of two hundred years ago must have used some "method" to inscribe his memories onto the scroll.
Having been swallowed by the scroll, Zheng Xiu was now experiencing Gongsun Mo’s memories firsthand.
It was too real.
After all he had been through since his imprisonment, Zheng Xiu was convinced that even before he had rescued Feng Bei in Baili Village, the world had been filled with all sorts of dark secrets and malevolent forces, and even Mystics who wielded Miracle Techniques. It was just that for some reason, all these secrets were hidden beneath a peaceful surface, unknown to most people.
Gongsun Mo was known as the Ghost Painter two hundred years ago, and his Path Mystic Skill was surely related to the "Danqing Painting Skill." Before Zheng Xiu had even learned of the Cannibal Painting and headed south to Shuzhou, Feng Bei had told him that Ye Weiyang suspected Gongsun Mo’s final masterpiece—this very Cannibal Painting—hid his greatest secret: the Deceitful Object of the [Painter] Path.
Once his headache had finally eased a bit, Zheng Xiu called for service.
The waiter enthusiastically brought Zheng Xiu fresh water and told him that Chu Chengfeng, the Third Young Master of Meihua Manor, had paid for this fine room. There was no need for Zheng Xiu to pay; he could simply stay and rest easy.
In this era, the Jianghu wasn’t just about personal strength; it was also about your background.
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