Thankfully, the pendant did not explode.

  Zheniya’s flickering spectral form settled and gradually came into sharper focus, the purple sparks comprising her body coalescing into a more defined shape—flowing hair, sharp cheekbones, glowing eyes and an irate scowl.

  She froze, her bright eyes darting around, taking in the world for the first time since I’d yanked her out of the coffin.

  “Can you see things now?” I asked.

  “I… I can see Qi currents that comprise everything, yes,” she uttered. “We’re right outside of my town!”

  “That's right. I gave you vision! You’re welcome,” I said, flashing a grin at the spectral figure of Zheniya, who was now glaring at me directly like I’d personally invented the concept of death just to inconvenience her. For a moment I wondered if she was an actual human soul or more like a large language model, an idea of a person aligned to particular characteristics burned like a neural network into some kind of microscopic crystalline architecture within the pendant, coming to life only when interacted with.

  “You… you vile, insignificant worm!” she spat. “How dare you carry my sacred remains like some common sack of rice? I am a Highborn Lady, destined for immortality! And you—you’re clearly nothing but a lowly, bald, failure of a cultivator with the most pathetic, burned out meridians I've seen!”

  I snorted, shifting the sack to my other shoulder. “First off, the baldness is temporary—lightning accidents, you know how it is. Second, you’re not exactly in a position to throw harsh adjectives at me, Miss ‘Permanently Deceased.’ I’m the one doing the heavy lifting here, literally.”

  Her translucent face twisted in outrage, purple sparks flaring around her like a swarm of angry fireflies. “You impudent dog! You think you can mock me? I could reduce you to ashes with a flick of my finger if I weren’t… temporarily indisposed!”

  “Indisposed?” I chortled. “Zheniya, let’s be real. You’re dead. As in, shuffled off this mortal coil, pushing up daisies, fertilizing the earth. I dug you out of a grave where someone was using your headstone as a urinal. That’s not ‘indisposed.’ That’s game over.”

  “Lies! Slander! I am not dead! I am in a transcendent state, preparing to ascend to the Lightning Realm! You’re just too pathetic to comprehend my divine essence! You—you… no-talent hack!”

  “I’ll give you points for insult creativity, but you’re gonna have to do better than that. Also, you do realize I’m carrying your actual body, right? If you’re so transcendent, why’s your lovely, purple corpse in my sack instead of, say, floating off to the Heavenly Court for tea and biscuits?”

  Her scowl deepened, but I caught a flicker of uncertainty in her glowing eyes. She glanced at the sack, then back at me, her lips parting as if to argue, only to snap shut. For a second, I thought I’d gotten through to her, but then she doubled down, because apparently ghosts didn’t know when to quit. “You… you, vile, grave-robbing cretin! You have no right to touch my body! It is a sacred vessel, infused with the power of the Chrysanthemum’s Judgment! Return it to its resting place at once, or I’ll haunt you until your descendants’ descendants are begging for mercy!”

  "Right," I sighed, resuming my trek down the path, the pendant dangling from my hand. “Let’s break this down logically, because you’re clearly having a moment. You’re dead, Zheniya. Poisoned, buried, and universally loathed. Now, you’re stuck in this pendant, which I own, thanks to a very fair trade involving a bottle of wine. So, what exactly do you want from me? You want me to rebury you so the local drunks can keep watering your grave? You want me to chuck this pendant into the ocean and hope you get a better afterlife inside a whale? What’s the endgame here? Do you want to be dead? Because I'm pretty sure that without my mana powering your magic trinket you pretty much stop existing.”

  She sputtered, her ghostly form flaring brighter as she struggled to find an answer. “I… I demand respect! I demand you treat my remains with the reverence they deserve! You cannot just cart me around like some… some harvested turnip!”

  “Funny you should mention turnips,” I commented, thinking of my future plans. “They’re excellent listeners, unlike certain ghosts I could name. But seriously, Zheniya, what’s your alternative? You don’t want me to have your body, I get that. But you can’t exactly take it back yourself. You’re a voice in a rock. So, unless you’ve got a secret resurrection technique you’re holding out on—you’re going to have to rely on me pushing Qi into your pendant for you to even be able to see anything.”

  "You cur!" She tried to swat at me but her fingers went straight through my face, feeling like cold tingles. "ARGH!"

  "See?" I said. "You can't even touch me. Or touch anything really. You're just a very weak pattern of Qi now. An electric current that stays dormant without my input. Without me you don't exist. Go on then—use that highborn mind and tell me what your plans are at this point."

  She went quiet again, her spectral form dimming slightly as she floated beside me. I could almost hear her mental computational noises as she tried to reconcile her lofty self-image with the reality of being a dead cultivator in a sack. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted finally, her voice quieter, almost petulant. “But I refuse to let you defile my remains! There must be a way to restore me, to undo this… this travesty!”

  “Restore you?” I tilted my head, intrigued despite myself. “Okay, I’ll bite. Let’s say there’s a way to bring you back. What’s in it for me? Because right now, I’m looking at a lot of effort for zero reward, unless you count your charming personality as payment.”

  She bristled, sparks flaring around her again. “You insolent knave! I am worth more than your entire pathetic existence! If you help me, I could… I could teach you my lightning techniques! Yes, the Chrysanthemum’s Judgment! You’d be... unstoppable!”

  I snorted, shaking my head. “Pass. Last time I tried a little lightning technique, I ended up bald, scarred, and technically dead for forty-two seconds. Besides, my heart core’s not built for fancy combat moves. I’m more of a ‘spread the energy around’ kind of guy.”

  “Then what do you want?” she snapped, clearly frustrated. “You must want something, you greedy little grave-robber!”

  I paused, considering my needs.

  “A laboratory to work in,” I said. "Funds for my research projects. A financial grant."

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “A what?” She blinked.

  “I need a place where nobody would bother me where I could study Qi and grow… magic vegetables. Plus money to acquire various tools and materials.”

  “Grow… vegetables? It sounds like you want to buy a farm,” she huffed. “Great, I’m stuck with a useless idiot who dreams of becoming a farmer.”

  “Farmer’s not a bad gig,” I shot back. “Better than being a ghost stuck in a rock, yelling at the guy carrying your corpse. At least farmers get to eat the fruits of their labor.”

  Zheniya’s translucent eyes narrowed. “You dare compare my noble existence to… to vegetable peddling? I was destined to rule, to wield the heavens’ fury! And now I’m trapped with a bald, Qi-deficient fool who dreams of dirt!”

  I chuckled, adjusting the sack. “My Qi’s just fine, thanks. It’s just… unconventionally distributed. Besides, you’re not exactly swimming in options here, Miss Chrysanthemum Barracuda. You’re dead, your town hates you, and I’m the only one willing to put up with your sparkly personality. So maybe dial back the insults and work with me?”

  She huffed, her spectral form dimming slightly as she floated closer, her voice dropping to a grudging mutter. “Fine. What do you propose, you… insufferable grave-robber? I assume you have some sort of plan beyond carting my sacred remains through the wilderness like a common mule?”

  I grinned, catching the faintest hint of curiosity in her tone. She was hooked, even if she’d rather die again than admit it. “First, I need a place to set up shop—a lab, like I said. Somewhere quiet, away from nosy sect elders and lightning-happy cultivators. A farm would be perfect. I can grow my… special plants, experiment with Qi, and maybe figure out what makes your pendant tick. You help me with that, and I’ll see what I can do about your little ‘resurrection’ problem.”

  Zheniya snorted, her glow flaring with indignation. “You think you can restore me? You look like a third year cultivation novitiate dropout! I’d have better luck possessing a snail!”

  "Oh?" I arched an eyebrow. "Can you posses a snail or any other creature?"

  "I don't freaking know! This is my first time being... dead!"

  “Well, you should find out,” I conceded, shrugging. “But I'm pretty sure that I’m your only shot at life. So, how about it? You teach me what you know about Qi, lightning, and whatever else you’ve got rattling around in that ghostly head of yours, and I’ll keep you in the loop on my experiments. Deal?”

  She went silent, her form flickering as she considered her predicament. She fretted in one spot floating beside me, expressions shifting rapidly—pride versus pragmatism, rage versus survival. Finally, she sighed. “Very well. I… agree to assist you. For now. But if you dare defile my remains or waste my knowledge on some ridiculous scheme, I swear I’ll find a way to haunt you into the next realm!"

  “Deal,” I said, flashing her a grin. “Now, let’s talk logistics. I’ve got sixty-seven spirit stones, twenty silver and five copper from my sect severance. Is that enough to buy a farm around here?”

  "What?!" Zheniya’s laughter erupted in my head, sharp and mocking, like a flock of crows taking flight. “Sixty-seven spirit stones and twenty silver? For a farm? Oh, you poor, delusional boy! Even the smallest plot with a shack and a patch of dirt would cost at least five hundred spirit stones or a thousand gold and that’s if the seller’s desperate because their land is cursed or something!”

  I sighed, the weight of the sack feeling heavier than ever. “Five hundred? Seriously? What do people do, mortgage their souls to afford a garden?”

  “Practically,” she scoffed. “Land is power. Especially magic-infused land with quality Qi to it for meditation and growth. Only cultivators or wealthy merchants can afford it, and even then, they haggle like vultures over a corpse. Your pittance wouldn’t buy you a chicken coop, let alone a farm.”

  "What about rent?"

  "Renting land comes with servitude obligations," she said. "Do you desire to provide a quarter of your vegetables to your Landlord or be pulled at a random into a war?"

  "Not particularly," I groaned.

  Sixty-seven spirit stones had seemed like a fortune when Accounting Elder Thousand-Year Pine handed them over, his face pinched like he was parting with his own kidney. I glanced at Zheniya’s spectral form, her arms still crossed, her expression smug despite her lack of a physical body. An idea sparked, one that felt reckless but promising, like most of my ideas since landing in Wei’s body.

  “Alright, Miss High-and-Mighty,” I said, slowing my pace. “You were a big shot in town, right? Magistrate’s daughter, throwing lightning bolts, terrorizing market vendors. You must’ve had some savings stashed away. A secret hoard, maybe? Some gold or spirit stones you kept hidden from your adoring public?”

  Zheniya’s glow flickered, and for the first time, she looked… nervous. Her eyes darted away, her translucent fingers twitching like she was trying to grab something that wasn’t there. “Savings? Hah! Why would I need to hoard wealth? I was the Chrysanthemum Barracuda! My father’s treasury was at my disposal, and the town’s merchants groveled to offer me tribute!”

  I raised an eyebrow, catching the slight tremor in her voice. “Uh-huh. And yet, here you are, dead and buried in extra-plain, gray, hemp robes. Sounds like someone wasn’t as secure as she thought. Come on, Zheniya. You were ruthless, not stupid. You had to have a backup plan, right? A little nest egg buried somewhere in case things went south?”

  She bristled, sparks flaring around her, but her silence was louder than her usual tirades. I pressed on, keeping my tone casual but pointed. “I mean, a smart cultivator like you? You’d have hidden something—gold, jewels, maybe a few spirit stones—somewhere no one would look. Just in case your dad cut off your allowance or the townsfolk got tired of your… charming personality.”

  Zheniya’s glow dimmed, and she floated closer, her voice low and grudging. “You… you’re infuriatingly persistent, you know that? Fine. Yes, I… may have set aside some resources. But it’s not because I was worried or anything! It was a strategic precaution, nothing more!”

  I grinned, my heart lifting like a balloon. “Now we’re talking. Where’s the stash, and how much are we looking at?”

  She hesitated, biting her lower lip as if she were wrestling with the idea of telling me. Finally, she muttered, “It’s… buried. In the forest, near the old willow grove by the river. A of gold and spirit stones. But it’s hidden under a spiritual ward, so don’t think you can just dig it up without me!”

  "Enough to buy a farm?"

  She snorted, but there was less venom in it now. “Barely. You’d still need to negotiate, and you’re hardly a master of charm, baldie. But… it’s a start.”

  “Why’d you bury it?” I asked. “I mean, you were living the high life, right? Why go through the trouble of hiding gold in the middle of nowhere?”

  Zheniya’s glow dimmed further, and for a moment, she looked almost… human. “My father… he wasn’t always reliable. He loved me, in his way, but he was obsessed with his own cultivation, always chasing power. I learned early on that his treasury wasn’t guaranteed—half the time, he’d trade his wealth for rare herbs or elixirs without telling me. I buried the gold ten years ago, when I was sixteen, after I overheard my father negotiating to marry me off to some third-rate sect heir for some special cultivation manual. I wanted… insurance. Something no one could take from me.”

  I stared at her. For the first time, she didn’t sound like the terror of Rainbow Toad Town. She was just a girl who’d learned the hard way that power didn’t guarantee security. “That’s… smart. Really smart. Sounds like you were playing the long game.”

  “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped, her glow flaring back to its usual intensity, hair made from woven sparks flaring out. “I don’t need your pity. I need you to stop dawdling and get to that willow grove so we can retrieve my gold!”

  "Lead the way then!" I laughed, picking up my pace. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a shovel and a knack for digging up trouble. Let’s go turn your backup plan into a grant for my new lab!”