The Record of the Ethereal Night Ghosts

It was the third year of Yuanfu during the Great Song dynasty, the year Gengchen. The Song court still proclaimed itself as the "Great Peace" before its name, yet from the censers within the palace, the scent of sandalwood mingled with the stench of rotting corpses of those starved to death in the alleys, creating a single, pervasive odor. The sound of woodblocks printing Jiaozis to fill the war coffers never ceased day or night. With every sheet of paper printed, the price of grain in the market doubled, yet only the words "Your Majesty's grace is boundless" adorned the gates of the government offices.

When the rumor that a girl could be bought for one tael of silver spread through the refugee village, mothers clutched their children's hands and went to the market. The haggling over prices was no different from the sound of grain being measured. Passersby would stop, crane their necks to watch, and then silently disperse once a price was settled, none reporting it to the authorities. The rumors of neighbors consuming each other's flesh for a single meal were merely another topic of negotiation in the marketplace.

With continuous warfare to the north with the Liao and to the west with the Western Xia, weapons and provisions ran out, and even the secret manuals and sacred artifacts of ancestral sects were pawned. Even those who claimed to uphold chivalry found themselves starving, leading to an increase in those selling their swords for the court's silver or the demonic cult's gold, yet no one felt ashamed.

As the number of those hovering between life and death increased, the boundary between the living and the dead blurred. The black market, born from human greed, set up red lanterns in the alleys as night deepened. There, the paper currency printed by the court was worthless; only pure silver, spirit stones, remaining lifespans, and still-warm fresh blood held value.

"We don't accept Jiaozis." "Then what do you accept?" "How many years do you have left to live? Let's settle on that."

Even the martial artists who called themselves righteous sects pretended not to hear the haggling and melted into the darkness, coveting forbidden arts and cursed manuals. It was no more a sin than any other transaction in the marketplace.