“Do you have any cultivation methods I can use?”
I already knew the answer deep down.
Since the conversation had reached this point, I felt I had to say something—so I asked naturally.
“The Heavenly Evolution Nine Dragon Art is pretty strong,” the ghost infant replied, her tone noticeably weaker, carrying a hint of guilt that I didn’t immediately pick up on.
“Do you… really want to cultivate?”
My fingers paused as I twirled the pen, a sinking feeling rising in my chest.
“Wait… Don’t tell me I can’t cultivate?”
The ghost infant went silent.
“I didn’t want to tell you before because I was afraid of discouraging you.”
“Before I’m born, you really can’t cultivate.”
“Any inner energy you produce through cultivation would clash with the ghostly aura inside me, and it would lead to your body exploding on the spot.”
My small hand froze for a few seconds, before I forced a smile.
“It’s okay.”
“If you think about it, it’s not that bad. Without you, I couldn’t have cultivated in the past either. Now that I have you, I just need to wait until you’re born—then I can start my journey as a top-tier talent. What’s there to be sad about?”
“Do you… really mean that?”
The ghost infant sounded a little guilty.
“Mm. I mean it.”
The non-human ghost, seeing the girl pretending to be unfazed, felt even more guilty.
Just as she was struggling with how to make it up to me, I suddenly asked a bizarre question.
“Baby, do you think… I could cultivate ghost-type techniques instead? Wouldn’t that avoid the clash?”
“Huh?” The ghost infant was completely stunned.
I could almost picture her mouth hanging wide open in disbelief.
“That… shouldn’t be possible, right?” she said hesitantly.
At the very least, a living human couldn’t cultivate ghost techniques.
A ghost’s energy source was essentially a fusion of yin energy and resentment—a process where they continually absorbed yin energy from the outside world to nurture their own grudges.
This fusion of yin energy and resentment had a specific name: Ghost Qi.
Which is exactly why the more powerful a ghost is, the more terrifying and overwhelming their resentment becomes.
I was just a mortal with a flesh-and-blood body—how was I supposed to withstand the corrosion of ghost qi?
But the more I listened to the ghost infant’s explanation, the more intense the desire in my heart became.
“I have a rare ‘Pure Yin Body.’”
“If I directly absorb yin energy, wouldn’t that be even more suitable for me than practicing inner energy techniques?”
“And it wouldn’t clash with your ghost qi, either.”
The ghost infant gasped.
Honestly, it… kind of made sense.
But she still had to point out the harsh reality:
“Even so—where are you going to get the cultivation method for that?”
“Couldn’t I just use yours?” I replied without hesitation.
“Your method is all about absorbing yin energy. If you could modify it a bit, maybe it could work for me too.”
For the first time, the ghost infant was shocked by my intelligence.
What the hell?
Did I bump my head or something today?
Why did I suddenly seem smart?
“It’s doable,” she said.
“But you’ll have to give me a few days. I need to figure out how to adjust it properly.”
She was deep in thought, evaluating the feasibility of my proposal.
And the more she thought about it, the more she realized there was real potential here.
This wasn’t just some random flash of inspiration—this was creative, visionary thinking.
Sometimes, all it takes is one wild idea to spark a revolution.
If I actually succeeded, history books in this world might have to add a new name.
Others had thought of similar things before.
People with pure yin constitutions were common enough—but a Pure Yin Body was exceedingly rare.
No matter how many theories existed, without a real test subject, they were all meaningless.
“Hahaha! So it really might work?”
I had only said it casually, but now that the ghost infant acknowledged it, I was thrilled.
My feet lightly tapped the leg of the chair in delight.
“Yeah.”
“Oh right, I never asked you—where did your ghost cultivation technique come from? Don’t tell me you were just born with it?”
Curious about the ghost infant’s background, I kept asking questions.
“Were you born as a powerful ghost in some mass grave?”
After all, it’s not like every ghost had to be a Ghost King before developing self-awareness.
The ghost infant’s situation was too unusual—unusual enough to stir real curiosity in me.
“You’re right—I wasn’t born in that mass grave,” the ghost infant said, her mind flashing through a few vague images—of a dark, sunless cave.
“I only have a hazy memory. I remember fighting someone, and after that, I escaped. It wasn’t until I absorbed the resentment of thousands of baby girls in the graveyard that I finally formed a complete consciousness.”
That made a lot more sense.
How could a mere mass grave have given rise to a Ghost King with nearly ten thousand years of cultivation?
“That person… was really annoying,” she added, her voice slightly muffled.
“So, that means… I’m the first person you met after gaining consciousness?” I summarized.
“Yes.”
The ghost infant didn’t immediately catch what I was getting at.
But when she heard what I said next, the corners of her lips curled up involuntarily.
“See? Isn’t that the beauty of fate? A terminal cancer patient like me just happened to meet you right at your awakening.”
I blinked like a sly little fox, my soft, girlish voice laced with warmth and wonder, as if turning everything into a beautiful, romantic story.
I propped my chin on my hand, basking in a quiet, gentle kind of happiness that only made the ghost infant feel even more guilty.
“What are you going to do about Li Mei?” I brought the topic back to the matter at hand.
Gone was my gentle, motherly tone—without warning, I stood up from my chair.
The corners of my lips curled into a cold smile.
“Simple.”
Kindness is always relative—depending on who you’re facing.
Most problems, in truth, have very simple solutions.
It’s just that people tend to overcomplicate them.
“Hey—careful now, don’t forget you’re pregnant,” the ghost infant said, watching me rise with such fury that she started panicking, spinning around frantically inside my spiritual sea.
She wished she could just reach out with a tiny hand and drag my reckless self back down.
“I don’t want to hold my own funeral.”
Miscarriage.
Even if I didn’t die, it would ruin everything—and she’d forever lose her chance of becoming a Ghost Emperor.
In truth, with her secretly watching over me, it was nearly impossible for me to get hurt—unless I got careless during one of her dormant periods.
Still, she reminded me instinctively.
“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
My footsteps were silent—like a ghost moving with sudden intent.
By the time Li Mei noticed the shadow behind her and spun around in surprise, she was already scared stiff by what she saw.
I pulled a dagger from beneath my skirt, clean and efficient, pressing it tightly to her neck.
The cold glint of the blade reflected in her eyes, the sharp edge kissing her skin with chilling intimacy.
The icy tip of the blade pressed tightly against her carotid artery.
Li Mei’s voice trembled.
“S-Si… Si-classmate, what are you trying to do?”
“It’s illegal to harm a fellow student.”
“Oh? Talking law now?”
I stared at her with a half-smile, slowly toying with the little knife in my hand.
“But when you were secretly trying to take pictures of me, you didn’t seem too concerned with legalities.”
The sharpest point of the blade inched closer and closer to her neck.
“S-Sorry…” Li Mei was clearly terrified by the madness in my eyes.
Fear surged through her body so strongly that tears started to form in the corners of her eyes—reflexive and uncontrollable.
The sweet, delicate girl in front of her no longer resembled anything soft or fragile.
She nearly dropped to her knees.
“Si-classmate, it was my fault…”
Whether she truly regretted it or not—I didn’t know.
But in the face of death, begging was instinctive for most people.
After all, there was nothing gentle about the look in my eyes just now.
It was anything but a harmless little flower.
I let out a soft snort, brushing off her apology.
“Do something for me.”
I picked up her phone and typed out a message, then turned the screen toward her face.
“You know what to do, right?”
“If you can’t lure her out, I’ll just go to the police. Let’s end your college life early.”
Click.
I snapped a photo of her chat log and the evidence, and gave her a little shake of the phone—just to remind her what I had.
After I left, Li Mei completely collapsed into the chair, hugging her head and sobbing in bitter regret.
At that moment—she truly regretted everything.
I walked out of the dorm room.
Staying in the same space as such scum made even breathing feel nauseating.
The iron gate on the dorm’s first floor had already been locked.
Up on the rooftop, I stretched lazily, arms resting on the railing as I gulped down the fresh air.
“You still know how to fight?” the ghost infant asked.
“Just a little—just enough to scare her.”
“Typical college students… all cowards.”
The ghost infant looked at me strangely.
She said that as if I wasn’t a college student too.
I tucked the dagger back under my skirt—completely invisible from the outside.
“Wait—where did you even get that dagger?” the ghost infant’s voice turned exasperated.
“Who taught you to hide things like that? How can you just shove something under your skirt like that?”
“It’s super dangerous!!!”
I coughed lightly, my cheeks flushed as I brushed some stray hair behind my ear.
“Alright, alright… I’ll put it back in the locker later.”
Scaring a college student—how hard could that be?
At the end of the day, I grew up being bullied.
Most students are the type who bully the weak and fear the strong.
As long as you show that you’re crazy enough, ruthless enough—nine out of ten of them will back off.