Chapter 316: In the Realm of Absurdity, This Is Still Pretty Damn Absurd!
Inside the Strange Tale World, Zhang Yangqing, unsurprisingly, started chatting with the yellow-clothed female specter.
After all, in his eyes, he wasn’t the one who should be scared.
“You’re telling me not to sell the Blood Bone Jade? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and injured someone, and now you want me to finish them off for you?”
Zhang Yangqing observed her for a moment and said.
He could tell from the unstable aura emanating from this yellow-clothed female specter that she had probably just been in a fight.
Plus, her fingernails were incredibly sharp, looking just like a set of steel blades. Looking closer, he could even spot a few shreds of flesh still clinging to them.
If Zhang Yangqing’s guess was right, those hands were her weapons for attacking others.
Other Chosen Ones might not know the purpose of this Blood Bone Jade, but Zhang Yangqing was perfectly clear on it.
If a living person wore this thing, it would invite misfortune and become shrouded in baleful energy.
But to ghosts and ghost cultivators, it was a top-tier healing item.
The yellow-clothed female specter was telling Zhang Yangqing not to sell the Blood Bone Jade to that customer with the cross-shaped scratch marks on his face. Her aim was simple: to prevent that customer from getting treatment, thereby sealing his doom.
As long as you knew how the item was used, this was easy to figure out.
Hearing Zhang Yangqing ask that, the yellow-clothed female specter also looked a bit puzzled.
She hadn’t been planning to eat Zhang Yangqing in the first place, so even though he was talking to her, she didn’t make a move.
The rules only warned Chosen Ones not to speak with yellow- or blue-clothed guests; it didn’t mean that every guest in yellow or blue would attack.
However, this particular yellow-clothed female specter could have attacked Zhang Yangqing at that moment, because he had indeed broken the rule.
But she didn’t move. And honestly? It was a good thing she didn’t.
“Are you going to help me or not?”
The yellow-clothed female specter stared at Zhang Yangqing, her expression grave.
“First, give me your reason. I’ll think about it.”
Zhang Yangqing wasn’t afraid of her. Since he had nothing better to do late at night anyway, he figured he might as well hear her out.
This might just be a special quest, and Zhang Yangqing was acutely aware of that.
After hesitating for a good while, the yellow-clothed female specter finally spoke.
Apparently, a blue-clothed ghost—who was a ghost cultivator—was coming later. This guy used living people to practice some kind of evil, heretical art.
Many people in the vicinity had already fallen victim to him, and the yellow-clothed female specter was one of them.
However, her resentment ran incredibly deep, and because of the unique circumstances surrounding her death, she had also transformed into a specter.
She had cultivated for a long time with the sole purpose of getting revenge on that blue-clothed ghost.
Today, she had taken advantage of him being deep in his cultivation practice to launch a sneak attack on the bastard.
But she wasn’t strong enough—she only managed to gravely wound him.
Once the blue-clothed ghost snapped out of it, he actually still had enough energy left to drive her away.
She knew he would be coming here soon to buy healing items, so she was begging Zhang Yangqing for a favor.
After listening, Zhang Yangqing shook his head and said, “As a store clerk here, my duty is to sell goods. I can’t do what you’re asking.”
Hearing this, the yellow-clothed female specter said with a melancholic sigh, “So you’re saying you won’t help me?”
Zhang Yangqing shook his head again and added, “No. If what you’re saying is true, then when he gets here, I’ll just beat him to death myself.”
That statement actually caught the yellow-clothed female specter a bit off guard.
As a disciple of a Daoist sect, his professional ethics dictated that he would never spare a specter that harmed people. It was an innate revulsion.
But Zhang Yangqing wasn’t finished speaking, though he didn’t continue out loud.
His thinking was: as a Daoist priest, how could he just casually believe a ghost’s words—especially a female ghost’s?
So, the unspoken second half of his sentence was: If what you’re saying isn’t true, I’ll beat you to death instead.
When the blue-clothed ghost arrived, he would just find a way to question him then.
Anyway, he had nothing better to do tonight. Waiting a while would let him determine whether he needed to kill one, or kill two.
“How can I trust you? Or rather, what do you want me to do?”
The yellow-clothed female specter maintained a high degree of suspicion toward this store clerk who didn’t seem intimidating at all—which was only reasonable.
“Just find a place outside to hide. Don’t hang around here in the store and get in the way of my business.”
Zhang Yangqing didn’t need to explain himself, nor did he need to make the female ghost trust him. He simply told her what to do.
The yellow-clothed female specter stared at Zhang Yangqing. For some reason, there was an incomparable confidence radiating from this clerk that made her swallow her doubts.
Before long, she had hidden herself behind a withered tree outside the general store.
“How strange… Why did I trust him?”
Even hiding there, the yellow-clothed female specter still didn’t understand it. But it felt like there was some kind of force she couldn’t resist.
After dealing with two gray-clothed guests and one yellow-clothed guest, Zhang Yangqing headed straight for the coffin area.
Because that black-clothed guest who had been lingering around all this time was wandering in that very spot.
Other Chosen Ones would need to search for a while to find him. Zhang Yangqing? Not only could he lock on with his aura, but he could pinpoint him with just his hearing.
Many Chosen Ones had similar ideas to Zhang Yangqing. Since they were already out from behind the counter, they might as well see what this black-clothed guest was up to.
The Chosen One from the Pyramid Kingdom, Rahman, was considered brave among the average Chosen Ones.
He swallowed hard, holding his candle holder, and carefully approached the black-clothed guest.
He had been to this area before, but last time he hadn’t dared to linger long.
And it wasn’t just him—other Chosen Ones also felt that these coffins were extremely unsettling.
They constantly felt like something was watching them through the cracks in the coffin lids.
Perhaps it was just an illusion caused by the flickering candlelight.
Rahman wasn’t as bold as the other Transcendents; he was even pretty respectful toward the black-clothed guest.
As a store clerk, he politely went up and asked the black-clothed guest what he wanted to buy.
But then a familiar scene unfolded before Rahman.
The black-clothed guest suddenly dropped to his knees and kowtowed to Rahman.
He mumbled reverently, “Boss, an elder in my family has passed away. I want to buy a coffin to bury him, but I only have 600 dollars. Could you please sell it to me cheaper? I’m begging you!”
The coffin cost 800 dollars, and the black-clothed guest only had 600. He was simply asking Rahman for a discount.
The money used in this general store was different from regular currency, by the way. It seemed to be obtained through some special method.
600 dollars was actually a huge amount—many guests only had a few dollars, or maybe a few dozen.
Up to this point, the biggest single transaction Rahman had made was only 90 dollars.
This scene might have stumped other Chosen Ones, but Rahman had encountered something like it before.
He was a survivor of the Late-Night Wax Museum, where he had once encountered a kowtowing wax figure.
He remembered that during the final sprint at the end, he had to run from the security room to the exit. During that run, that kowtowing wax figure had tried to stop him from leaving.
If it weren’t for the reward item he was wearing, things would have gotten dangerous.
After clearing it, he had gone back to watch the recordings of other Chosen Ones in that Strange Tale.
From that, he derived a particular insight: specters that kowtow are generally very weak.
If you don’t grant their request, they will definitely find a way to get revenge on you.
But if you do grant their request, you break Rule 4.
[Rule 4: When guests in black, gray, or white clothes come to buy something, remember to remind them to pay. You cannot overcharge, nor can you undercharge. Turnover is the key to your survival.]
Rahman clearly remembered watching the Dragon Kingdom Celestial Master’s clear recording—the Celestial Master had simply stomped that wax figure to bits.
That was the so-called optimal solution.
But now, Rahman was in a real bind.
Selling it cheaper was definitely out of the question—that was against the rules.
Do that, and his own life would probably be forfeit.
But kicking him out? Based on Rahman’s understanding of the Strange Tale World, the guy would definitely catch him off guard at the last moment.
Plus, his resentment might intensify from anger, and who knows what kind of monster he’d turn into?
So the best option here was to kill him, to eliminate the threat entirely.
And that was exactly where Rahman’s dilemma lay: the guy just came to buy something and didn’t have enough money—was he really supposed to just kill him? That didn’t seem right either.
Was Rahman hesitating out of kindness?
Obviously not. He wanted that 600 dollars.
He was trying to figure out how to get the money legitimately.
Other Chosen Ones felt the same way. Being kind-hearted in a Strange Tale World won’t do you any favors, but when faced with a huge sum of 600 bucks, who’d want to just let that slip by?
Before long, Rahman came up with an idea: he would hire the black-clothed guest to work in the shop, pay him a wage, and let him save up the 800 dollars to buy the coffin.
And besides, the rules didn’t say he couldn’t hire help.
The black-clothed guest would be earning his money through honest work.
That way, Rahman wasn’t stealing, nor was he profiting from ill-gotten gains, right?
Because he thought deeply about the second part of the rule. The rule reminded Chosen Ones that what mattered was turnover.
Turnover was naturally the money earned from selling items.
Money obtained by robbing someone didn’t count as turnover, since his role was a store clerk, not a bandit.
That’s why Zhang Yangqing never resorted to robbing anyone either; he understood this point as well.
Rahman explained this idea to the black-clothed guest. Look, I’ve done everything I can for you. If you want the coffin, you help out. If you insist I sell it cheaper, then get lost.
You can’t exactly hold a grudge against me for this, can you? It’s not like I didn’t try to think of a solution for you.
If you won’t even do this little thing, how dare you ask me for a coffin?
Hearing this, the black-clothed guest kowtowed a few more times, thanked him profusely, and agreed to the deal.
Rahman then laid down the store rules for him, telling him not to break any of them.
The so-called rules were Rules 4, 5, and 6.
With his help, Rahman’s own workload would lighten up.
And more importantly, wasn’t this a perfect way to test the waters?
If a dangerous guest showed up, he could just send this black-clothed guest to test them out.
That was his job now, after all.
If he ended up dying, it wasn’t Rahman’s problem.
Other Chosen Ones started getting creative too.
Some had him beg at the entrance, asking passersby for spare change.
Others were even more devious, having him help sell items for a markup.
For example, if a mask normally cost 20, and he managed to sell it for 25, then the extra 5 would be his.
The Chosen One themselves hadn’t overcharged anyone, so it didn’t break the rules.
This so-called “sales pitch” basically functioned like a tip or a service fee.
The Chosen One also told him to sell with enthusiasm—that was how he’d get tips.
At this stage, a few particularly cunning Chosen Ones showed off their knack for being shrewd businessmen.
Take the Chosen One from the Football Kingdom, Santos, for instance. He gave everyone a masterclass in capitalist tactics.
An ordinary item that normally sold for 20 could be sold for double if you just packaged it right.
How do you package it? Santos’s first method was to define its value.
Kind of like how a worthless diamond gets branded as a symbol of love. Suddenly, a piece of junk diamond can sell for a fortune.
All the incense, paper money, and candles in the general store could be given the same treatment.
Santos told the black-clothed guest to draw special symbols on these items and claim they were “Lucky Star Special Editions” that would bring good fortune when burned.
After all, luck and love are intangible things you can’t verify, so it was all up to the seller’s imagination anyway.
When customers saw two options—one plain with no added value, and another slightly more expensive but promising good luck—how would they know if it actually worked? But for the sake of getting that lucky charm, most would shell out the extra cash.
That, Santos explained, was the art of making money.
Santos’s second method was storytelling.
If you told a good story, the price would naturally follow.
Take the masks, for instance. Santos had the black-clothed guest make up a story about how they were the work of a legendary master who had once accomplished some incredible feat.
Using this “master” persona to elevate the item’s value.
But it didn’t stop there—the story needed to feel complete.
Next, they could spin a tale about how someone once wore this mask and went on to do something amazing.
And just like that, the made-up story was whole.
The customers would hear this and think, Whoa, this mask is that awesome?
I gotta buy one and try it out, no matter the cost!
This was another way to drive up prices.
The Chosen One from the Football Kingdom, Santos, certainly had these skills. But he didn’t dare go overboard, since the rules clearly said he couldn’t overcharge.
Otherwise, he’d already be one of the richest Chosen Ones out there.
Notice I said one of the richest, not the richest.
Because if the rules were completely loosened, there was one person who would genuinely just rob everyone blind.
Santos couldn’t raise prices himself, but he could teach the black-clothed guest to do it.
Either way, once the guest saved up 200 dollars, the job was done.
It wasn’t like Santos was doing anything underhanded.
After watching this Chosen One named Santos’s performance, the audience thought his methods were brilliant, with many calling him the Wolf of Wall Street.
The Chosen Ones seemed to be putting their clever minds to work.
After all, 600 dollars was a huge sum. Since they couldn’t just take it by force, they had to find a way to get their hands on it.
Maybe this was the Strange Tale World’s way of testing them.
Having seen the other Chosen Ones’ absurd antics, the audience was curious to see if the Dragon Kingdom Celestial Master’s approach would be even more ridiculous.
This guy’s stunts were always in a league of their own—so absurd that even by absurd standards, they were still pretty damn absurd.
But on the big screen, Zhang Yangqing was whispering something to the black-clothed guest in a voice so low the audience couldn’t hear a word.
The black-clothed guest then nodded, signaling he understood.
A look of firm determination settled on his face.
After Zhang Yangqing left, he continued waiting in the coffin area.
This move left the audience completely baffled, with no idea what the Dragon Kingdom Celestial Master was planning.
But it also made them even more eager to see what would happen next.
Inside the Strange Tale World, the time had now reached about 1:30 in the dead of night.
Outside the door, the night sky was growing darker, and the candlelight inside the general store was growing dimmer.
The Chosen Ones weren’t taking any chances. They kept candles ready at all times, ready to replace the ones on the counter the moment they burned low, making sure the flames never went out.
After several hours of this, the Chosen Ones had become quite familiar with the general store.
Whatever a customer asked for, they could find it.
But there was no food to be had, and the Chosen Ones were starting to feel a bit hungry.
Still, this was only the beginning of the Strange Tale; the red-clothed guests mentioned in the rules hadn’t even shown up yet.
In just a few short hours, the Chosen Ones felt like they were living a year for every day.
They were both looking forward to the red-clothed guests’ arrival and dreading it at the same time.
A tangle of complex emotions churned within them.
Time passed slowly. Customers came and went in small groups, never in large numbers.
To deal with these new arrivals, the black-clothed guest—still trying to scrape together money for his coffin—was working his tail off pushing products, practically like another store clerk.
The Chosen Ones kept a close watch, but the guest the yellow-clothed female specter had mentioned was nowhere to be seen.
At 1:50 in the morning, a rather peculiar guest walked into the general store.
Rahman found this guest’s appearance particularly odd.
Most guests dressed fairly normally. So why did this one seem like he was flaunting his wealth?
Because Rahman knew quality when he saw it—this guy was decked out in genuine gold and silver, complete with a jade thumb ring. He looked loaded.
The most important detail was that he was wearing white clothes, meaning he was the type they could talk to.
The Chosen Ones were all weighing whether or not to try selling him something.
After all, they’d all concluded that higher turnover was better.
Some Chosen Ones, seeing that no one else was around, grabbed their candle holders and approached him.
Others shot a meaningful look at the black-clothed guest working for them, silently telling him to squeeze this guy for all he was worth.
The black-clothed guest nodded. Whether he could finally buy that coffin depended on how generous this big spender was with his tips.
A few minutes later, predictably, this white-clothed guest picked out a few valuable items totaling 300 dollars.
Compared to other guests who only bought things for a few dollars or a few dozen, 300 was already a pretty significant sum.
The black-clothed guest, who had been hustling sales, managed to earn a modest tip. But when it came time to check out, this white-clothed guest gave the Chosen One an extra 50 dollars on top.
Fifty dollars was no small amount—enough to make even the black-clothed guest green with envy.
As soon as Rahman noticed it, he immediately moved to return it.
But the white-clothed guest insisted it was a tip for the Chosen One and told him to keep it.
Seeing that, Rahman knew something was fishy.
Who wouldn’t want more turnover? But there was no way this extra money came without strings attached.
Most Chosen Ones, like Rahman, chose to refuse.
As the white-clothed guest left, he muttered something about the Chosen One not knowing what was good for him.
The more clever Chosen Ones, like the shrewd businessman Santos, used a clever workaround.
He said, “No need for a tip, but I can exchange that 50 dollars for goods of equivalent value.”
With that, he handed the white-clothed guest a piece of rough jade worth 50 dollars.
Just like that, he got the money without breaking the rules.
Compared to an honest guy like Rahman, he was much sharper.
At this stage, the Chosen Ones’ turnover figures were starting to diverge.
When the clock struck 2:00 AM, the sound of wind chimes grew noticeably louder.
A yellow-clothed guest and two blue-clothed guests walked into the general store.
They seemed to be traveling together. The moment they stepped inside, the store’s candlelight dimmed significantly.
