The Japanese ghost leader carried the heaviest resentment and the strongest ghostly energy. Yet, Song Miaozhu's curses had the most visible effect on him. With each needle strike, vast amounts of resentment and ghostly energy dissipated from him.
By all logic, he should have been more resistant than the average ghost. But now, he seemed no different from the rest.
"That resentment bullet must truly be his weakness. Maybe it was even the very thing that killed him."
Cursing the Japanese ghosts through the little paper servants was satisfying, but the spiritual energy cost was staggering. All in all, cursing over 3,000 paper servants consumed nearly an entire mid-grade spirit stone—equivalent to 10,000 hell coins. And what did she gain? Just some experience in the paper servant curse technique.
No one else would spend so extravagantly just to practice. Even Song Miaozhu couldn't sustain this daily. Though spiritual energy served as the primary cost, frequent curses still took a toll. Fortunately, the ghosts were trapped in the forested mountains near the park—she didn't need to rush. She decided to "tend" to them slowly, cursing a little each night.
"Let's just hope they don't scatter too quickly—I still need practice material."
During the day, Song Miaozhu stuck to her original routine—training her skills in the Secret Art of Paper Crafting. Once she had stabilized her Golden Lotus at third grade, she began learning to cut Yin Paper Clothes. Although Yin Paper Clothes were technically a derivative of the Paper Spirit Armor, born in the age when spiritual energy began to wane, the craft required was even more refined. In the previous cultivation era, these clothes were only useful to ghosts. Cultivators had no use for them, so no one had bothered studying them in depth.
The various intricate patterns and blueprints for crafting Yin Paper Clothes found in the Secret Art of Paper Crafting were the result of generations of effort after spiritual decline. They were handed down by ancestors who refused to let the craft die. In life, those ancestors had diligently honed their paper-folding techniques, selling paper wares in exchange for underworld coins that could be used to channel yin energy for spiritual activation.
Without activation, Yin Paper Clothes capped at third grade. At that level, they provided a decent level of protection to ghosts, were slightly better in quality, more durable, but still visibly made of paper. Only after spiritual activation could they reach fourth grade and take on the texture and appearance of real fabric—making them highly sought after by the dead in Fengdu.
Song Miaozhu didn't just study Yin Paper Clothes to refine her craft. She had plans to sell them in the underworld and earn coins. In the business of underworld trade, Yin Paper Crafts were even more profitable than spirit-infused ones.
Yin Paper Crafts could be made from ordinary paper, unlike the expensive imported items from the mortal realm. The cost was low, and the profits were high. The truly skilled Yin Paper Crafts were just like luxury goods—always in short supply. Rather than relying on mortal-world items that often didn't adapt well to the underworld, Song Miaozhu dreamed of turning all modern goods into genuine Yin Paper Crafts. Then, she'd offer something truly one-of-a-kind.
The simplest Yin Paper Clothes only required colored paper with printed designs. Cut them into the right shapes, paste them together, and you had yourself a "garment." But that kind of work barely passed as a product. It was the common trash—loud colors, overly bright hues, identical cuts, and clearly paper-made. They were fragile and tore at the slightest touch.
To make true graded Yin Paper Clothes, one had to treat the paper like cloth, and glue like thread—following proper tailoring steps from start to finish. Colored paper was allowed, but any embroidery or decorative patterns were best drawn by hand. The more delicate and detailed the work, the more "real" the garment became in the underworld, and the more effectively it protected the ghost who wore it.
Unfortunately, Song Miaozhu knew nothing about making clothes.
Cutting out shapes was easy, but designing, tailoring, and assembling a full miniature outfit from paper—treating it like a real garment—was still beyond her.
Even though The Secret Art of Paper Crafting offered detailed diagrams and step-by-step instructions, it wasn't as simple as folding gold ingots or lotus flowers.
She made several attempts, but the results were unimpressive.
Even when she used underworld coins to imbue the garments with yin energy for activation, none of them reached a proper grade. Frankly, they looked worse than factory-printed offerings. Only slightly more durable. She wouldn't even dare place them on sale at her Anshou Hall—they were disgraceful enough to damage her ghost shop's reputation.
That was, until she saw a note in the Secret Art of Paper Crafting: to create garments that truly blurred the line between paper and reality, a basic foundation in sewing and painting was essential.
This revelation shifted her entire approach.
Instead of rushing to make finished garments, she opened the SEIU app and searched for beginner video courses from masters in sewing, painting, and calligraphy. She finally had a use for the contribution points she had been saving. After finishing a few of those masterclasses, even if she had only scratched the surface, the techniques she picked up were more than enough to elevate her work.
She began to understand the secret behind paper's transformation in the underworld.
Why did paper money burned by the living carry ghost lifespan? Why were handmade offerings stronger than factory-made ones? How could a paper garment become so lifelike in the underworld?
It all came down to the thoughts and feelings of the living.
Paper money was imbued with love and longing for the dead. Handmade crafts carried the artisan's wisdom and sentiment. The more skilled the paper artisan, the more refined the technique, the more the work would come alive in the underworld.
In that sense, the transformation of Yin Paper Crafts mirrored the cultivation path today—skill dictated power. With that in mind, Song Miaozhu realized her current abilities in sewing and painting were average at best. Trying to replicate the ornate ancient styles from the book only exposed her shortcomings.
Instead, she decided to start with the basics taught in the beginner sewing videos—simple designs with clean cuts and straightforward assembly. That, she thought, might yield better results. After all, she wasn't sewing for human proportions, and she used rice paste instead of thread. That alone made things much simpler.
She tried again.
This time, she made a color-blocked vest using her newly learned techniques.
One side was a vivid rose-red colored paper, the other a neon green. She applied her knowledge of color theory to make the combination bold and eye-catching.
The buttons were little black dots drawn with an ink pen.
The buttonholes were tiny slits she carefully cut with scissors.