The only drawback was the remote location and the damp mountain air. But neither was a real issue for Song Miaozhu—her goods wouldn't be stored there long anyway!
The real selling point? Only 300,000 yuan!
After getting the pig farm owner's WeChat, Song Miaozhu locked in the deal.
Once Boss Wu left, she hopped on her little e-bike and rode straight to the pig farm for a look. That very day, she completed the transfer of ownership and contacted Boss Wu to start delivering the goods directly to the farm from then on.
The farm was fairly big, so she left three paper servants stationed there. Once the goods arrived, they could even help carry everything to the warehouse at the Ghost Shop—no need for her to make the trip personally.
She even gave the keys to the paper servants. When it was time, they could place the key outside the gate ahead of delivery, and Boss Wu would be able to open the place up and unload directly. Judging by how Boss Wu acted today, he probably wouldn't dare to short her on goods. Whether she was watching or not didn't really matter.
Besides—there were paper servants watching!
With the warehouse issue settled, Song Miaozhu didn't have to worry about the Ghost Shop running out of stock for now.
That night, she brought twenty paper servants and rented a car to head out near Dongshan Forest Park. She stayed in a small inn just outside the park. Taking advantage of the evening, she crafted a new batch of spare Paper Spirit Armors for the servants she'd brought with her.
Each servant carried three extra sets, stored in a yin-wood chest in the ghost shop's warehouse.
"If your armor gets damaged, replace it immediately from the chest. Understood?" she instructed.
She also made five larger versions for herself. Though "large" was relative—palm-sized on her, they'd be cumbersome for the tiny servants. On her, they were mere stickers.
The next morning, Song Miaozhu went into the forest park and hiked around the back of Golden Rose Summer Villa.
She was still a mountain away when she began to sense a faint mist of yin energy drifting through the air. It was only upon arriving that Song Miaozhu realized why the yin energy in the forest wasn't dispersing easily. The woods were too dense. It was nearly noon and the sky was perfectly clear, yet within the forest it remained cool and shaded, only a few slivers of light breaking through the canopy.
Without sunlight—and with spiritual energy nourishing it—the yin energy naturally dispersed much more slowly. This area was far off the forest park's walking paths. No one else would come here. She unzipped her backpack, and the paper servants climbed out.
"The treetops get more sun, so the yin energy should be weaker. Stay high, spread out, scout the mountain, then act when ready."
Once she gave the command, the paper servants scrambled up the trees. She remained at her post, monitoring everything through their shared vision. From the treetops, the paper servants moved nimbly—stepping on leaves, gliding with the breeze, occasionally leaping from branch to branch. Before long, they'd crossed the mountain.
And there it was—a ghost mountain, drenched in thick yin energy, looming in their view. The servants dispersed at the base of the mountain. Once all twenty were in place, they began drifting upward together. From the servants' eyes, Song Miaozhu could now see the conditions across all parts of the ghost mountain canopy.
Though yin energy hung over the treetops, sunlight at noon was actively dispersing it. That made the treetops the safest zone—the yin energy there was thinnest. Barely a minute into the climb, a shout came from two paper servants stationed near a valley on the eastern side of the mountain.
Song Miaozhu quickly focused her attention on those two.
From the tree leaves, the servants peered downward. Below—ghostly silhouettes crowded the valley. All of them were Eastern ghosts.
Other parts of the mountain were thick with yin energy too, but it was scattered—like floating duckweed without roots. Only this valley was brimming with resentful qi and produced yin energy in an unending stream.
So this was the true source—this valley was where the Eastern ghosts had been buried. Even if their corpses had long since decayed, the burial site still offered them the best protection. None of the ghosts left the valley. They huddled together, warming themselves in a miserable cluster.
The trees and burial ground alone weren't enough to shield them from the sun—the real key to their persistence was that seething resentment that soared into the sky. The presence of spiritual energy only further amplified their resentment. Even at noon, the yang energy could barely hurt them anymore.
This was the only area of the ghost mountain that carried such heavy resentment. That meant the Eastern ghosts likely wouldn't leave the valley easily during the daytime. Which made it hard for the paper servants to access the corpses.
Song Miaozhu sent one doll toward the edge of the valley to test things—see if it could bait a response. Inside the valley, the ghosts were languid and bored—anything new caught their attention. Thousands of eyes fixed on the paper doll. Through its eyes, Song Miaozhu was hit with a wave of intense, concentrated gazes.
Even though she'd once entertained more ghost guests than this, she still couldn't help but shiver. The ghosts of Fengdu were always polite—when shopping they kept their emotions in check, and it was considered very rude to expose their death forms.
These Eastern ghosts had no such manners. Their eyes were fierce, their resentment sky-high. As the doll drifted away from the valley, the ghosts didn't follow—they only stared. Apparently, despite their heavy resentment, they hadn't gone completely mad. They still had basic instincts for self-preservation, and knew that leaving the valley in broad daylight was a bad idea.
"Troublesome," Song Miaozhu muttered.
Daytime was safest for her—but unfortunately, that was when the ghosts refused to move. At night, without sunlight, their yang energy advantage would be gone. The ghosts might roam then.
But that would be her dangerous time.
Paper servants could be remade if they were destroyed. She couldn't.
And she was still a bit too close to the ghost mountain—there was a real chance of being discovered. Thinking of that, she quickly packed up and left the forest park. At the entrance, she spotted a vendor selling old-fashioned music players for seniors. Her steps slowed.
She bought several dozen, hauled them back to the inn in plastic bags.
The yin energy at the inn was normal—meaning the Eastern ghosts hadn't expanded their territory that far. She should be safe here.
She charged up every music player, loaded each with a mix of old revolutionary songs and some traditional Eastern-style tunes, and stored them in the Ghost Shop's warehouse.
Before sunset, she had her paper servants place thirty music players throughout the forested areas on the western slope of the ghost mountain.
Only a few servants remained hidden to watch the machines—the rest continued their surveillance near the valley.