All along, Zhou Sheng had believed there were only two ways for the Luoshu to gain energy.
One was gradual daily accumulation; the other was slaying demons and vanquishing devils. The former grew slowly but carried no difficulty, while the latter brought rapid advances but came with danger.
But now, a third way to increase its energy had appeared.
After he finished the play and drew thunderous applause from the whole hall, tiny motes of light emerged from the ghosts' bodies and flew into the Luoshu like fireflies.
Though the energy grew less quickly than it did from slaying demons and devils, it had the advantage of being a thin stream flowing endlessly, accumulating bit by bit into something great.
It was much faster than the slow, everyday accumulation.
Zhou Sheng suppressed the excitement in his heart and continued singing. To earn more applause, he even deliberately performed a difficult sequence of stylized movements.
Sure enough, as the ghosts below kept cheering, those firefly-like motes of energy streamed without end toward the Luoshu.
The Turtle Shell Luoshu in his sea of consciousness was becoming crystalline and radiant at a visible rate.
This felt far too good!
Could singing opera for ghosts earn him energy?
The moment the thought surfaced, Zhou Sheng rejected it. It could not be that simple. He had sung for ghosts before, yet the Luoshu had never reacted.
There was only one explanation: the ghosts listening here were highly unusual.
As Zhou Sheng sang, he secretly observed the ghosts below and soon noticed a detail.
The more immersed and invested the audience became, the more the charred blackness of their skin faded, as though the Fiery Fiend aura constantly roasting them was being drawn out bit by bit.
At that moment, the motes of energy visibly increased.