Food gives me an entry, I will be invincible if I stay alive

Chapter 72 I have a poem that will last forever, and I will give it to the gods and ghosts to hear (Please read it after the third update)
Chen Xu put down the pen in his hand and was about to pick up the [defective bone mirror].

His actions not only attracted the attention of Wang Ji, but also Wu Zhengze, Cui Jingxian, Wang Mochuan and other clear-minded people, who all looked at him with concern.

The shadowy figure behind the stall suddenly said, "Mr. Chen, are you really going to give me the original version of this poem?"

Yes, the original.

It was the yellowed, rough paper with the poem written on it on the stall.

Such an ordinary, crude piece of paper actually contains a magnificent chapter.

At this time, the green smoke rising from the paper had mostly dissipated, leaving only a faint green glow floating above the rust-like words.

The old yellowed paper, the rusty dark red ink, and the light green glow, under the light of the paper lanterns, present an overall indescribable desolation.

Reflecting the dark long street at this time, the abyss of shadows makes people feel that the texture is heavy and extraordinary.

Ghost said, "Mr. Chen, are you really willing to give it up?"

This question actually made Chen Xu stunned. He said, "This poem was originally written for you, as a purchase price for this bone mirror. Don't you want to sell it?"

His tone was so ordinary that Shadow was completely stunned.

After being stunned for a moment, the shadow hurriedly shook its body, and a pair of black, slender arms stretched out from the shadows, and snatched the poetry paper on the stall in a whoosh.

She was just a shadow, floating unsteadily behind the stall. After grabbing the paper, the shadow seemed to have grabbed a heavy mountain.

The next moment, there was a "bang" and the shadow fell straight to the ground from its floating state.

She fell to the ground, but a hoarse laugh came out from her shadowy body.

"Ha, ha ha ha..." She laughed, and then seemed to cry, "I, I like it very much, I like it very much."

She cried and laughed, and after death she found comfort that she had never experienced in life.

The ghost's whimpering voice attracted the soft sigh of the skeleton ghost at the other end of the long street.

The sigh came, but it was gone in an instant, and almost no one heard it.

Chen Xu calmed himself down and took the bone mirror from the stall. It felt cold to the touch, but there seemed to be a strange heat in the bone surface.

Before Chen Xu grabbed the bone mirror, he secretly added three points to each of his three attributes of essence, energy and spirit.

With the addition of these attributes, the innate Qi in his body, which could only recover slowly, seemed to have a spring appear out of thin air.

The source gushes out, and the innate qi naturally recovers quickly.

Only with the magical innate qi did Chen Xu have the confidence to reach out and grab the bone mirror.

Of course, if that didn't work, he could just put the bone mirror in the fireworks kitchen. This item had an entry and could be used as food, so it could naturally be put in the fireworks kitchen.

However, this is a last resort. Unless it is absolutely necessary, Chen Xu does not want to expose his ability to collect supplies.

The universe in the sleeve and the sun and the moon in the pot may not mean much to the masters of this world.

But if Chen Xu, a scholar without any foundation, suddenly displayed similar abilities, it would be a big problem.

This also prompted him to be more eager to achieve fame and fortune, cultivate his energy in a fair and honest way, and pass the imperial examination, using Confucian practice to conceal the peculiarity of his God of Food scroll.

Until that day, he will reach a high place and be able to do whatever he wants without any disguise!

At this moment, Chen Xu held the bone mirror, but he only felt that although it had some weight in his hand, that weight seemed to be no different from the weight of real bones.

At most, the dragon bones are a little heavier.

He could hold this object easily, and there was no such thing as being "suppressed to the point of being unable to move".

Chen Xu had some thoughts in his mind, and he had already understood something. This was because he not only wrote the Qingyan poem, but also the poem was loved and resonated by the owner of the Youying stall from the bottom of his heart.

He exhaled softly.

Holding an osteoscope in hand, he walked towards another stall.

On both sides of the long street, the shadowy stall owners seemed a little restless.

As the paper lanterns swayed, calls to attract customers suddenly rang out.

"Mr. Chen, come here, I have some great stuff!"

"Mohele, Mohele, shadow Mohele, Mr. Chen, won't you come and take a look?"

"Mr. Chen, here, here..."

Voice after voice, a cacophony of voices, a bustling clamor. If it weren't for the unusually dim moonlight that day and the deep shadows on both sides of the long street, how would this eager call to customers be any different from any other street in the world?
Many people felt sour and nervous when they heard this.

In the ghost market, they don't have the treatment of being actively recruited by stall owners.

Chen Xu paused and stopped beside Chang Song who was standing there in a daze.

In other words, he stopped in front of the stall of the old man who had previously received a poem from Chang Song.

There was an item on the old tenant farmer's stall that Chen Xu liked.

[Forgetfulness Mushroom, a fungus found on the roadside of the underworld, after cooking, can cause all living and dead beings in the world to lose all emotional fluctuations within a quarter of an hour.]

He chose this large gray-black mushroom and asked the old stall owner to get him a pen and paper.

"Alas..." A shadow seemed to be stamping its feet and sighing.

All eyes were cast in this direction.

The old man who owned the stall was so happy that he was almost trembling as he tried to take things out from under his stall.

But halfway through he hesitated again, and quickly raised his shadowy head to look at the skeleton female ghost standing quietly at the other end of the long street.

The skeleton ghost turned her beautiful face to the side and chuckled.

Then a bony hand appeared out of thin air above the stall and put down paper, pen, ink and inkstone.

The paper is snow-white, flexible, gold-sprinkled Xuan paper, the pen is a jade-hair brush with a moderate edge, and the ink is the finest Netherworld Pine Smoke Ink.

The old man cried out "Oh!", overjoyed.

He quickly cleared the stall, laid out paper and pen, and looked forward to facing Chen Xu.

At the same time, all eyes in the ghost market were looking at Chen Xu expectantly.

Chen Xu seemed to be completely oblivious to everyone's gazes. He simply said to the old man, "Old man, I will also write a poem for you titled 'Song of Pity for the Peasants.'"

Then he picked up the pen, dipped it in ink, and wrote down with hesitation:

The old man's ghost was illiterate, but Chang Song, standing beside him, stretched his neck to watch, suppressing his excitement and reading:

“Plant a grain of millet in spring and harvest ten thousand grains in autumn.

There is no idle land in the world, yet farmers still starve to death."

Before he finished speaking, Chen Xu had already put down his pen.

But I saw a wisp of green gas rising into the sky, like a swimming dragon or a startled wild goose.

The moonlight in the sky had fallen halfway, and at first glance it seemed to have fallen from the zenith to halfway down, hanging obliquely and looking precarious.

Suddenly, a loud cry rang out from the side: "There is no idle land in the world, yet farmers are still starving to death... Wuuuuu, they are still starving to death!"

The ghost beat his chest and stamped his feet, then fell from the air.

The only sound in the whole place was the old man crying, while the rest was completely silent.

Chang Song, in particular, was distraught.

After reading the poem, he felt that what he was reading was not a poem, but it seemed as if he was reciting all his energy and strength.

Chen Xu pushed the piece of paper with the poem written on it to the old man, took the forgetfulness mushroom, and continued to walk to the next stall.

This time, he set his sights on the [Tears of the Vengeful Ghost].

Chen Xu was very cautious and did not write poetry blindly.

Because he found that every time he wrote a poem that looked like clouds and smoke on paper, the innate qi in his dantian would be drawn out invisibly.

He had a feeling that Qingyan Shi was his limit at his current state of cultivation.

At the same time, he obviously could not quickly produce too many Qingyan poems in a short period of time. Excessive extraction of the innate Qi would damage the foundation even with attribute points replenishment.

However, the standard of "a large amount" is obviously different from the ordinary people's understanding of "a large amount".

Chen Xu stopped in front of another stall owner. This time, the stall owner was the one who had cut off Wei Tang’s foundation before!
Thank you fellow Taoists for your support, thank you!

Note: The poem in this chapter is from Li Shen’s "Song of Pity the Peasants".

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(End of this chapter)