Chapter 2: Fry You, Stir-Fry You

Qi Jiangyuan spoke again. “A ten-thousand-year ginseng?”

Can He stiffened his neck. “Exactly!”

He might be considered young among ginsengs, but he was already thirty thousand years old. What was wrong with calling himself a ten-thousand-year ginseng?

“Is that so?” Qi Jiangyuan’s tone remained calm.

Another strand of pitch-black Soul Thread quietly extended, like a cold, ghostly finger, brushing lightly across Can He’s body with a chilling aura.

Sensing the faint tremor at the other end, Qi Jiangyuan’s lips curled into the barest hint of a smile. “To me, you look more like…”

He paused deliberately, then slowly uttered three words:

“A white radish.”

Can He froze, as if struck by lightning.

“L-Lies!” the Little Radish shrieked. “Don’t slander me! I am clearly a ginseng born of heaven and earth!”

Everything that grew in the Longevity Ruins was ginseng—how could he possibly be a white radish?

The Long-tongued Ghost exchanged glances with the other fierce ghosts. They all saw the same confirmation in each other’s eyes.

Can He might be shorter and rounder than the average radish, but he was unmistakably a plump, snow-white radish. No doubt about it.

The Long-tongued Ghost discreetly released a wisp of Yin Qi to probe him, and the results only confirmed his suspicion.

This little thing’s cultivation was practically nonexistent, pitifully weak. But he could speak human language and communicate between the living and the dead—at best, he was a tiny spirit who had just stepped into the “Netherlink Stage.”

The other ghosts gradually sensed the same and began eyeing Can He with increasingly strange expressions.

Clearly a white radish, yet claiming to be a ten-thousand-year ginseng—was this radish a few leaves short of a bunch?

Seeing the disbelief in their eyes, Can He’s leafy top was yanked painfully by the Soul Thread. He squirmed with all his might.

The thread loosened slightly, and he immediately summoned the last dregs of his meager cultivation. With a flash of light, he transformed into a boy of about seventeen or eighteen, and took the chance to break free and run.

He barely got a few steps before a vivid red cord¹ suddenly wrapped around his pale, fragile ankle. A searing, binding sensation surged through him, freezing him in place.

Old Ginseng had once said that ginsengs who gained sentience could burrow freely underground. So, when catching them, people often used red cords to seal their spiritual energy and prevent escape.

The Little Radish looked like he was about to cry, eyes brimming with tears as he glared at Qi Jiangyuan. The resentment radiating from him was so thick it was almost tangible—far heavier than all the fierce ghosts present combined.

What an awful ghost!

Stupid ghost!

The Long-tongued Ghost was still scrutinizing Can He when he suddenly realized his earlier judgment had been off.

He wasn’t a regular radish at the Netherlink Stage—he was a regular radish at the Transformation Stage.

The boy before them looked about seventeen, still full of youthful innocence, with skin so tender it seemed like it would bruise at a touch.

Standing barefoot on the cold ground, the ankle bound by the red cord looked even more delicate, as if it might snap at any moment.

…The Long-tongued Ghost became even more convinced—this radish wasn’t very bright.

The dumb radish still stubbornly lifted his chin, enunciating each word: “I am not a radish!”

“Well, aren’t you bold,” the Long-tongued Ghost cackled, his expression turning sinister. “Daring to call yourself a ten-thousand-year ginseng before His Highness… You’re nothing more than last year’s radish. Tired of living, are you?”

Can He instantly bristled. “I’m a ginseng!”

“Radish.”

“GINSENG!!”

“You’re a radish!”

Being mistaken for a ginseng ghost was one thing—but being misidentified as a radish was the ultimate insult!

“How does my Dao body look anything like a radish? Can you find a radish better looking than me?” Can He completely forgot about the red cord on his ankle. “You’re dumb, you’re blind—if you can’t tell a radish from a ginseng, you’ve got no business being a fierce ghost!”

The Long-tongued Ghost planted his hands on his hips, ready to argue back, but when his eyes landed on Can He’s seemingly harmless fist, he suddenly remembered how easily the boy had shattered his iron chains. A chill ran down his spine, and he shut his mouth.

“You’re so rude…” Can He turned to face Qi Jiangyuan, but the moment their eyes met, his words faltered.

Crap—he was still bound by the Ghost King’s red cord, and he’d just yelled at his subordinate right in front of him.

Too late now. Can He straightened his back and forced himself to stay composed. “If you think I’m just a radish and can’t cure your illness, then I’ll take my leave.”

He pointed to the red cord around his ankle, signaling for Qi Jiangyuan to undo it.

The Long-tongued Ghost sneered. “Cure an illness? You think you’re qualified…”

Qi Jiangyuan raised a hand to silence him.

“Very well,” the Ghost King said with a chilling smile. “Let’s see if you can cure me.”

The Long-tongued Ghost: …?

He couldn’t tell if he had gone mad—or if His Highness had.

Could this radish actually be something special?

The Long-tongued Ghost couldn’t resist secretly probing Can He’s cultivation level again.

It was an illusion.

The Long-tongued Ghost gave up trying to figure it out.

This was just an ordinary radish.

Can He hadn’t expected Qi Jiangyuan to agree so readily.

But now that he was bound by the red string with no way to escape, it seemed he had no other choice.

Since even the Ghost King needed something from him, the little white radish’s mind began to churn with ideas. “So, about those conditions I mentioned earlier—do you agree to all of them?”

Just in case Qi Jiangyuan had forgotten, Can He repeated them, and even added a few more: “Soil, sunlight, and water—all essential. The soil must be loose and soft, no pebbles or hard clumps. The sunlight should be plentiful, but not too harsh—warm and gentle. As for water…”

Can He shamelessly made a wild demand. “I want Liqueur Spring² water! Don’t phoenixes only drink from the Liqueur Spring? Well, I’ll only drink Liqueur Spring too.”

The Long-tongued Ghost’s face twisted. “You’re really pushing it, aren’t you?”

The little radish let out a sudden wail, completely unprovoked. “You can’t make me mad! If I get upset, I won’t treat your prince’s illness!”

The ghosts: …

Qi Jiangyuan remained utterly unfazed, his tone calm. “Naturally, all your conditions will be met.”

“Since you claim to be a ginseng, then come with me to the Ghost Abyss.” He stepped forward, closing in on Can He. A cold, eerie aura brushed against Can He’s cheek. “Whether you are or not, we’ll find out soon enough.”

“If you truly are a ginseng, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

“But if you’re just a radish…” A wisp of black mist curled around Qi Jiangyuan’s fingertip, his voice turning dangerous. “I’ve been meaning to try shredded radish salad³.”

Can He stiffened at the nape of his neck.

With the prince’s word given, no matter how confused the Long-tongued Ghost was, he had nothing more to say.

As he pondered, Qi Jiangyuan suddenly called his name. “Xie Suoyan.”

The Long-tongued Ghost jolted. “At your service!”

“Go with him to pack up his things. We return to Wujian Prison shortly.”

Xie Suoyan accepted the order and led Can He away.

Once they were far from the oppressive crowd of ghosts, Can He found himself much more at ease with Xie Suoyan’s terrifyingly long tongue.

The little radish stared at the crimson tongue dragging along the ground, occasionally tripping over stones or twigs, and couldn’t help but speak up. “Can’t you reel that thing back in? It’s really in the way.”

“So, did you die by hanging? Was it uncomfortable?”

“What’s your cultivation level now? Are you as strong as Qi Jiangyuan?”

“…Sorry, am I being a bit too nosy?”

The boy’s voice was bright and clear, and he was even chattier than a parrot.

Xie Suoyan scowled, snatched up his tongue from the ground, haphazardly coiled it, and stuffed it into his robes with a proud expression. “Ahem, I’m at the Ghost Fiend stage now!”

Ghost Fiend—brimming with Yin Qi, nearly invincible.

Those who could rival that level were few: those undergoing Heavenly Tribulation, Great Perfection Stage cultivators from the Human Realm, or Ghost Kings and Demon Kings.

Currently, the only Great Perfection Stage cultivator in the Human Realm had recently ascended, and the Demon King kept to himself, rarely appearing in the world.

In other words, in today’s cultivation world, Qi Jiangyuan ranked first, and Xie Suoyan was second… among the top contenders!

When he revealed his title, ordinary spirits and monsters would tremble in fear!

Xie Suoyan let out a cold chuckle, his posture arrogant.

Can He tilted his head, eyes filled with pure curiosity. “Ghost Fiend… is that really powerful?”

Xie Suoyan: “…Of course it is! After Ghost Fiend comes Ghost King, and beyond that lies the path to immortality!”

Can He looked half-comprehending. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

Xie Suoyan couldn’t detect even a hint of genuine awe.

Whatever. What was the point of arguing with a little radish who didn’t even know what he was?

Xie Suoyan said gruffly, “Talking to a Transformation Stage little demon like you is like playing music to a cow⁴.”

Can He blinked. “Transformation Stage? Is Transformation Stage stronger than you?”

Xie Suoyan was stunned.

Different realms had different cultivation systems, so confusion was understandable—but how could this little radish not even know his own level?

Xie Suoyan held back his frustration and explained, “In the Demon Realm, cultivation goes: Spirit Awakening, Netherlink, Transformation, Spirit Core, Demon King. After Demon King comes the path to immortality. How are you stronger than me?!”

So many levels, so many names—Can He’s head was spinning.

The little radish shook his head and declared with confidence, “I don’t care. I’m just stronger than you.”

Xie Suoyan: …

Meeting this radish was truly the calamity of his ghostly life.

Before long, the ghost and the radish finally arrived at Can He’s “nest.”

Can He needed to say goodbye to his kin—otherwise, if he returned one day and found his ginseng burrow taken over, it would be a disaster.

Xie Suoyan eyed the shriveled, palm-sized ginseng spirits poking out from the grass and cracks in the rocks. The ginseng spirits huddled together, secretly watching the terrifying Long-tongued Ghost.

Xie Suoyan suddenly felt mischievous and flung out his long tongue with a loud, exaggerated “Bleh—!”

His tongue stretched absurdly far!

A flurry of tiny screams erupted from the pile of ginsengs. Startled, they scattered in all directions, diving into the ground and vanishing from sight.

After teasing the little things to his heart’s content, he finally turned his attention to Can He with leisurely ease.

Can He was also surrounded by a group of ginsengs, each with a peculiar expression…

They looked reluctant to part, but somehow not quite.

“Can He,” one little ginseng sobbed between hiccups, “once you go to Wujian Prison, you won’t be able to nibble on our root tendrils whenever you want anymore.”

“You won’t be able to force us to dance for you either.”

“You won’t be able to beat us up when you’re in a bad mood.”

“You’re a brave ginseng. A good ginseng!”

Xie Suoyan: …

Now he understood why Can He couldn’t tell if he was a radish or a ginseng.

It wasn’t just Can He—every spirit creature in the Longevity Ruins seemed to be missing a few screws. None of them could tell the difference between a radish and a ginseng.

Even though the difference was glaringly obvious.

Xie Suoyan looked closer and suddenly noticed a few wisps of pure Yin Qi lingering around Can He.

The cultivation paths of the Ghost Realm and Demon Realm were vastly different. Beasts absorbed the spiritual energy of heaven and earth and rarely came into contact with anything yin or demonic.

Now, with Yin Qi curling off him, Can He stood out among the pure-spirited ginsengs like an ink blot on white paper.

It must’ve come from close contact with His Highness earlier—he’d picked up some of that Yin Qi.

Thinking back to Can He’s plump, snow-white original form, and comparing it to the shriveled, scrawny true ginsengs around him, this white radish looked like it had greedily sucked up all the spiritual essence of the Longevity Ruins.

With a grand sweep of his hand, the domineering radish declared, “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely come back.”

The ginsengs wailed even louder at that.

Xie Suoyan couldn’t shake the feeling that His Highness had brought back one hell of a tyrant radish.

He didn’t bother watching any longer and simply urged Can He to hurry up, arms crossed as he waited a short distance away.

While saying his goodbyes, an elder ginseng grabbed Can He and asked, “Why did you change your mind again?”

Can He looked up at the sky, his face full of melancholy. “Sigh, it’s a long story.”

I just went to watch the fun—who knew I’d get shackled by Qi Jiangyuan’s red string?

Red string. Such a beautiful thing. A symbol of destined love.

But tied around this ginseng’s ankle, it was more like a death rope, forcing him to stay glued to Qi Jiangyuan’s side.

The elder ginseng, sensing he had his reasons, only said, “You said before you didn’t know how to heal anyone. How are you going to bluff your way through in Wujian Prison?”

Can He jolted like he’d been struck by lightning.

Right! He didn’t know how to heal at all!

…

On the way back, Xie Suoyan could clearly feel the boy beside him deflate, dragging his feet with a lifeless shuffle.

Can He’s mind was spinning with one thought: Maybe I should just die.

No, wait—dying might be worse.

If he died, not even the red string would be needed. His soul would drift straight into the Ghost Realm, and he’d probably be trapped by Qi Jiangyuan for eternity, never to reincarnate.

Can He racked his empty head for any method to treat ghosts, but came up with nothing. Instead, he ended up imagining all the ways he might die.

Qi Jiangyuan was a master of manipulating Soul Threads. He didn’t even need to lift a finger—those threads could slice someone into neat little pieces.

When it was his turn, he’d probably end up as “ginseng cubes.”

As Qi Jiangyuan drew closer, Can He let out a long, heavy sigh.

Living beings entering the Ghost Realm had to cross the River of the Underworld.

Can He was brought to a desolate, crumbling ferry and followed Qi Jiangyuan onto an old black-sailed boat.

A paper lantern hung at the bow, casting a dim, eerie glow. Xie Suoyan stood silently at the stern, pole in hand, guiding the boat as it slowly glided into the ink-black waters.

Qi Jiangyuan sat calmly in the center, eyes closed in meditation.

Can He glanced around nervously, then quietly crouched in a corner, doing his best to make himself invisible.

Healing, healing… how was he supposed to heal anyone?

Maybe he could cut off a bit of his own root and feed it to Qi Jiangyuan—at least it might buy him some time.

But then he realized, to his dismay, that he barely had any decent root tendrils to begin with.

He’d always looked down on ginsengs with too many tangled roots, thinking they looked ugly. Now, that had become his fatal flaw.

Maybe he could try probing the sick ghost first?

Can He mustered up his courage and looked up—only to meet a pair of eyes as deep and unfathomable as the abyss.

Qi Jiangyuan had opened his eyes at some point and was quietly watching him.

Can He quickly looked away, but that gaze clung to him like invisible Soul Threads, wrapping around him with no escape.

Little Radish forced himself to calm down and meet Qi Jiangyuan’s eyes again. Carefully, he asked, “Your Highness, how exactly do you want me to treat your illness?”

Qi Jiangyuan’s eyes held not a trace of warmth. “Naturally, we’ll pan-fry and stir-fry you.”

His tone was so calm, it was like he was talking about the weather.

Can He instantly fell silent.

At the stern, Xie Suoyan watched the scene unfold with malicious glee and added darkly, “Frying might not be enough. His Highness will probably need to heat up a pot of water, toss you in for a quick blanch, peel off the skin to reveal that tender white core, then simmer you over a low flame until you’re soft and soaked full of broth…”

Wujian Prison was bone-chillingly cold. A steaming bowl of radish soup was the perfect remedy to warm the body.

Can He stared in shock, then whipped his head toward Qi Jiangyuan.

His pretty eyes were wide with disbelief as Little Radish cried out in protest, “You’re gonna drink my bathwater?!”

That’s just sick!

Translator’s Notes