Chapter 23: Underworld

Sensing the anomaly in Han Luo’s voice, Cheng Shan couldn’t help sitting up and blurting out, “What happened to you?”

“What?” Yang Dazai shouted loudly in the night wind.

Cheng Shan hesitated for a moment and said, “It’s nothing. I wasn’t talking to you.”

She tried to reach out to Han Luo in her sea of consciousness, but his voice was silent. The spiritual consciousness flower no longer flickered, completely dimming. A moment of silence descended. Given Han Luo’s character, admitting loss of control indicated imminent danger.

Having experienced the power of spiritual consciousness, Cheng Shan began to understand the reasons behind Han Luo’s notorious reputation. It wasn’t wise to have such a person as her master, tying her fate to his. Cheng Shan felt a sense of gratitude, considering that if Han Luo were to die again, the spiritual consciousness would be completely gone, and the world wouldn’t even know she had once been his disciple.

Although she realized this, Cheng Shan couldn’t help but frown and sigh. Despite Han Luo’s actions and character, she hadn’t repaid the debt of saving her life. Instead, she had thrown stones at him while he was down. Thinking about it, Cheng Shan couldn’t help but blame herself. Even her aversion to spiritual consciousness was pushed aside.

Lost in her thoughts, Cheng Shan didn’t notice that Yang Dazai had already brought her to a desolate mountain. The night was dark, and misty vapors filled the air. Jagged rocks covered the rugged path. There were no plants in sight, except for the occasional unpleasant cries of monkeys and crows. The place was eerily silent. Cheng Shan, who had been flying with Yang Dazai in the air without feeling the cold, now felt an intense chill upon landing.

“Stay close.” Yang Dazai skillfully navigated through the bizarre stones. “We’re almost at the entrance. Gather your energy quickly, and don’t make a sound when we enter. I’ll handle everything.”

Nervously, Cheng Shan asked in a hushed voice, “Am I not allowed to speak? Will there be ghosts coming after me?”

“If you stay close, nothing will happen,” Yang Dazai replied with a smile. “In fact, the underworld is similar to the mortal realm. Among the ghosts, besides the permanent residents who voluntarily gave up reincarnation, there are only wandering souls who committed sins. As long as you don’t encounter the ghost officials, you’ll be fine—no ghosts will bother you.”

Somewhat surprised, Cheng Shan asked, “Can one give up reincarnation? Then why did Ouyang Jun insist on sending my father to reincarnation?”

Patiently, Yang Dazai explained, “The decision is made by the Lord of the Cycle Court. Just entering doesn’t necessarily mean reincarnation. Some souls can choose to be recorded in the Ghost Registry or even become ghost officials. Most, however, are sent to the underworld to undergo punishment.”

“Oh,” Cheng Shan said thoughtfully. If she couldn’t save her father, she wondered what judgment he would receive. After a moment of contemplation, she approached Yang Dazai with a sly expression and whispered, “How’s the atmosphere in the Cycle Court? Should I prepare some money just in case?”

Yang Dazai chuckled. “If it comes to that, mortal money is useless in the underworld.”

“What is useful, then?” Cheng Shan asked.

Without answering, Yang Dazai only said, “We’re here. Hold your breath.” Cheng Shan quickly closed her mouth, following Yang Dazai around a stone monument. To her surprise, there was no path ahead. Beneath her feet was a bottomless abyss, with an eerie black mist swirling. Yang Dazai transformed back into a sheep and said, “Come up!”

Cheng Shan didn’t dare to hesitate. She crawled onto the back of the sheep, glanced at the pitch-black abyss, felt a sense of fear in her heart, and involuntarily hugged the sheep’s neck. Without a word, the sheep, acting as the guide, jumped down.

The roaring wind in her ears was even more intense than before, accompanied by distant and mournful cries. The surroundings were bone-chilling, and Cheng Shan couldn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t help but mutter in her mind, wondering where the Yellow Springs Road and Naihe Bridge were. Instead, they seemed to be directly jumping into a big pit.

Previously, Cheng Shan had bragged to the sheep about her breath-holding skills, but now, facing the consequences, the sheep was too busy to pay attention to her. Cheng Shan felt dizzy and nauseous, wanting to take deep breaths, but the underworld energy was harmful to her body. Breathing could attract the attention of ghosts and monsters, so Cheng Shan had to continuously circulate her internal energy, not allowing herself a moment’s rest.

The descent lasted for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. The wind in Cheng Shan’s ears finally diminished, and the sheep stopped. Cheng Shan brushed aside her tangled hair, struggled to climb down from the sheep, and, when she raised her head, couldn’t help but exclaim.

In the eternal darkness, a black palace, nearly hidden in the void, stood before them. It was magnificent and majestic, resembling what Cheng Shan had seen in Han Luo’s mental image. It was even more grandiose than the image Han Luo had created, and Cheng Shan was amazed at how pure black could be so beautiful. The surrounding darkness was silent, but the pure blackness of the Thick Virtue Palace had an inexplicable warmth. It could be imagined that, for those rootless souls, it was quite tempting.

Shaken by the palace guarding the entrance to the underworld, Cheng Shan was silent for a moment. When she came to her senses, the feelings of dizziness and nausea returned. Her legs weakened, and she almost couldn’t stand. As she was about to sit down where she stood, her foot slipped, almost falling off the steps. Fortunately, the sheep, now restored to its human form, quickly grabbed her and pulled her up.

Only then did Cheng Shan notice the floating steps below her. They formed a staircase, extending all the way to the entrance of the Thick Virtue Palace. The sheep asked, “Are you okay?”

Cheng Shan nodded, signaling him to lead the way. As they passed, the steps disappeared slowly, just like what Han Luo’s consciousness had seen—there was only a way forward, no way back. The sheep remained indifferent, as if this were a routine, and Cheng Shan was curious but dared not ask as the Thick Virtue Palace was right in front of her.

After a short distance, they approached a massive gate that seemed hundreds of feet high. Two guards in front of the gate remained motionless, not even turning their eyes. Cheng Shan initially thought they were statues, but the sheep had warned her to hold her breath, and she realized that these were undoubtedly ghost soldiers.

The sheep, being a demon, and Cheng Shan, a half-hearted mortal, naturally couldn’t take the regular path into the underworld. Indeed, the sheep led Cheng Shan directly to the east-side hall. They walked around the palace wall for a while and arrived at a remote and narrow gatehouse. Inside sat an old man with a grim expression, white hair and beard, and a face full of wrinkles. In the green phosphorescent light, he looked like a typical ghost, almost scaring Cheng Shan.

The sheep smiled silently at the old man, took out a porcelain bottle from his sleeve, handed it over, and the old man accepted it with a smile. Opening the bottle and sniffing its contents, he said with a sinister smile, “Excellent quality, rare.”

The sheep smiled and said, “I never forget the gatekeeper when I have good goods.”

The old man sealed the bottle, gave the sheep two talismans, and said, “There’s a big event in the ghost city these days. New souls and old ghosts wandering outside are all rushing over. Let me wish Mr. Yang prosperous business in advance.”

“Oh?” The sheep raised an eyebrow. “What’s the big event?”

The old man smirked. “The one who disappeared for two hundred years is back.”