Chapter 178: No Way Back on This Journey (28)
Beneath the road, a bottomless abyss stretched far into the distance.
It was as if the entire earth had already been hollowed out.
Now that there was no one left to distract him, Yan Shixun was finally able to focus his mind on dealing with the thick, oppressive ghostly energy before him.
Normally, for a living person, even though Yan Shixun had the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation, he was still a human being. This meant that his manipulation of ghostly energy was incomplete—he could only guide it, not trace it back to its source.
Only someone like Jing Xiaobao, who had fully embraced the evil spirit inside to become a fierce ghost, could fully control and suppress the ghostly energy.
But two unforeseen factors had come into play.
One was Lan Ze’s entanglement with the ghostly energy.
As the ghostly energy had latched onto Lan Ze, it was as though Lan Ze had also taken hold of the energy, allowing Yan Shixun to find a way out of the tangled web of sin and karma, leading him toward the end of the abyss.
The other factor….was Ye Li’s power, which even Yan Shixun had not anticipated.
Although there were many factions in the world that specialized in exorcism and suppression of evil spirits—shamans, grandfathers, spirits of the mountain, and old women—whether their methods were righteous or not, they all had one thing in common.
——They were still living beings. Thus, even the most sinister power was limited by the boundaries of what a living person could achieve.
But Ye Li was different.
His power was not tainted by evil or sin, but neither did it have any trace of vitality—it was purely cold, deathly energy.
Ye Li existed alongside death. He was the god of death.
When the great Dao had been shattered and the gods had disappeared, Yan Shixun had never expected that a living god would be walking right beside him, moving through the mortal world.
This truly surprised Yan Shixun.
However, it was precisely because Ye Li’s power was different from that of living beings that the abyss had accepted Yan Shixun. Now, it felt as though the entire Great Dao had descended onto Yan Shixun’s shoulders, acknowledging his divine name.
In this moment, Yan Shixun understood the feelings that Ye Li had experienced in the past.
—All the sins and justice of the world were slowly unfolding before him.
It was as if invisible words were etched above each person and spirit, clearly recounting their life stories.
Yan Shixun glanced at the human-shaped tree, where the ghostly faces on its branches were howling in pain, their appearances hideous and terrifying. But he remained calm inside, unaffected by the distressing sight, even feeling a faint disgust.
Because he could clearly see the life of sin that the ghost’s face had lived.
The ghost face had been a human a hundred years ago. At five years old, driven by a desire for play, it had dissected its brother’s body, as casually as one would tear apart an ant, and when their father discovered the atrocity and collapsed in despair, the ghost had blamed it on the family’s servant.
As it grew older, the ghost face frequented brothels and streets, and the number of fallen women who died at its hands was too many to count. Later, during a time of turmoil in the city, the ghost face, in order to survive, had sold crucial information that led to the death of many people.
The ghost face soon faced its own retribution—falling ill and dying in excruciating pain.
In the underworld, the ghost face was sentenced to hell, where it would suffer for a thousand years before it was finally reduced to ash, never to be reborn.
The ghost’s life, both in life and after death, unfolded before Yan Shixun like a scroll, each scene rapidly passing before his eyes.
Yan Shixun turned his head to look at another skeleton that was struggling and howling in the blood sea, trying to break free.
The skeleton had been a con artist in life, deceiving everyone, stealing money from whoever he could, whether it was a life-saving sum or not, causing countless families to fall apart.
The resentment others held for him became the heavy sins he had to bear, wrapping around him day by day, devouring his flesh, transforming him into a skeleton in the blood sea, with his original face unrecognizable.
Yan Shixun’s eyes deepened slightly.
So… was this how Ye Li had always viewed the world of the living?
Rarely seeing sunlight or goodness, every soul he passed seemed like a white statue covered in dust, turning ugly and vile.
Yan Shixun suddenly remembered how Ye Li had once told him, “There is no salvation in the mortal world.”
Now, he could understand why Ye Li had come to that conclusion.
Even the sun, which harbors no shadow in its heart, would eventually be extinguished in the darkness of despair, fading into the abyss when surrounded by no light.
However…
Yan Shixun lowered his eyelashes slightly, a smile flickering in his eyes. His long fingers swiftly formed a seal in front of him. He was not disturbed by the endless flood of evil ghosts around him. Instead, his eyes became even brighter.
There is still hope for the world.
The world has always had hope.
There are always people fighting to protect life, with the flame of hope in the steadfast eyes of everyone, in Lin Ting’s writing, in Jing Shiwen’s every determined argument for an inch of ground, and in the beliefs of the heroic souls of the ancestors.
Even though there are many evils in the world, evil should be judged, and the souls of the sinful should be sent to hell. Between life and death, justice flows eternally.
Even if the dark clouds of sin are so thick that they block the sun, there is no need to fear. As long as a little is swept away, another soul is saved, and the world has a bit more justice.
—And that little justice is what Yan Shixun pursued.
Even if among thousands of evil ghosts, there is a pure white soul worth saving, he would still be willing to dive into the deepest part of hell to guide that soul to the next life, free from shadows.
The ancient and mysterious hand seal gradually formed in Yan Shixun’s palm. Originally incomprehensible to humans, the seal, backed by Ye Li’s inexhaustible power, unfolded smoothly in front of him.
When the low, clear incantation struck the moment it entered the abyss, all the evil ghosts trapped in hell seemed to sense it and looked toward Yan Shixun’s location.
A mortal figure, long and upright like an unbreakable long sword, stood at the boundary between the realms of life and death. No evil ghost could cross this line and enter the human world.
Light gathered quickly in his hands. What had once been a small flame in an instant turned into the brilliance of the sun and moon, as though a golden crow had fallen into his palm.
The evil ghosts, terrified, trembled so violently that they could not even muster hatred. Desperately, they tried to flee, their limbs struggling to move away from Yan Shixun.
The human-shaped tree, initially drawn to the scent of the living, let out a mournful scream. It pulled its feet out from the soil piled with shattered flesh, dragging its heavy ghost face and organs with roots entangled with skulls, fearing the living being and wanting to escape.
Their confused souls could sense the terrifying pressure coming from this human, like a mountain pressing down, as if they would be crushed into pieces at any moment.
And on that human, the vitality of the living world was eroding the abyss of evil ghosts. Wherever the light touched, the ghostly miasma dissipated, turning into a wisp of smoke that floated toward the deeper darkness.
It guided them toward their fate.
Yan Shixun lifted his eyelashes and took a step toward the direction the smoke pointed.
It was like how stars would seek their parents when they couldn’t defeat their enemies.
When an evil ghost can’t fight back, who do they turn to?
Beneath the abyss, something was pulling at the evil ghosts, preventing Lan Ze, who was entangled by the ghostly aura, from escaping.
The evil ghosts wailed, and even their already weakened minds, dulled by the hellish miasma and tortures, could feel the fear deep within their souls.
It was the panic and unease of waiting for the final punishment from the King of Hell, who would cast the last cruel torture from above.
Evil ghosts, who were once feared only by humans, now trembled before a living person.
But no matter how much they struggled, they could only watch as the human stepped through the shattered flesh and scorched earth, his foot landing in the sea of blood.
Golden light fell upon the sea.
For a moment, the abyss fell silent, but then, towering waves surged, violently crashing against the surrounding flesh and soil.
The human-shaped tree didn’t even have time to scream before it was consumed by the incoming blood sea.
And like Moses parting the sea, a blood-colored vortex spun wildly in front of Yan Shixun, gradually opening up a path leading downward.
The smoke that had just guided Yan Shixun fell into the sea below, disappearing without a trace in an instant.
It was an unfathomable darkness, a place where no life could survive.
Even the evil ghosts couldn’t endure the pressure rising from below. As they tried to flee, they shrieked and scattered to nothing, their souls shattering.
Yan Shixun didn’t hesitate for a moment. He leapt forward and voluntarily jumped into the darkness.
A strong wind blew from below, whipping his coat violently. He had to squint his eyes slightly, resisting the harsh wind against them. With the light in his hands, he could barely see the environment below.
As Yan Shixun continued to fall, the stench of blood gradually faded, replaced by a cold, damp smell.
It was like a long-abandoned house, enveloped in a chilling atmosphere.
That smell was cold, lifeless, and overwhelming, with no warmth or vitality. It carried an oppressive, inviolable majesty.
Yet, there was no trace of the usual bloody smell that one would expect in hell.
Yan Shixun furrowed his brow, struggling to keep his eyes open in the fierce wind, trying to see clearly below.
The resistance increased layer by layer, and his falling speed slowed. It felt as if with every inch he descended, he had to bear double the pressure.
If not for the strength Ye Li had lent him, constantly supporting him through his meridians, and for Ye Li’s divine name now settling upon his shoulders, granting him the power of the Great Dao, Yan Shixun feared he would not have been able to enter this place.
What is this place… After the collapse of hell, how could it still confine all the evil ghosts and ghostly miasma? Even those evil ghosts turned to dust at the first glance.
Yan Shixun’s heart sank.
He had a bold guess.
Ye Li had told him that a hundred years ago, when the Underworld collapsed, and before the King of Hell was to vanish, he used all his strength to leave his divine name and all his power behind in the Underworld, sustaining the normal operation of life and death for a hundred years.
And the aura here was clearly different from that of ghosts, yet it made all the evil spirits fear… Could this be the burial ground of the King of Hell?
Yan Shixun quickly realized that he was standing on solid ground.
It wasn’t like the soft, muddy soil filled with blood that permeated the Underworld, but instead, it felt like the touch of hard stone paving the ground.
A flicker of doubt passed through Yan Shixun’s mind. He quickly adjusted his posture, bending his long legs to absorb the impact, and stood steadily on the ground.
He slowly straightened up, using the light in his hand to observe his surroundings.
It was only at this moment, without the howling winds and layers of obstruction, that Yan Shixun could truly see where he had landed.
On all sides stood statues of gods and Buddhas, towering over a hundred meters tall. Their faces were stern, radiating an imposing presence even without anger.
Unlike the gentle and compassionate gaze of a Bodhisattva, the eyes of these statues were like bronze bells, sharp and glaring, impossible to face directly. Their faces were chiseled with hard lines and sharp angles, holding weapons in their hands, poised in dynamic stances as though at any moment they would shake off the dirt and dust from their bodies, waking from their slumber to cut down all invaders and souls right here.
Under the relentless gaze from all directions, a person would inevitably feel a deep sense of fear and insignificance.
The space was vast, and the black ground, illuminated by the sudden light, gleamed with a cold luster.
It was as though the sinful souls awaiting judgment could only tremble and wail in this place, unable even to catch a glance from above.
Yan Shixun cautiously looked around, noticing that the towering statues of gods and Buddhas, upon closer inspection, were all damaged to varying degrees.
On the edges of the light, he could vaguely see many fallen massive stone blocks, jagged and menacing.
It was as if this place had once suffered a cataclysmic blow, and all the once indomitable decorations had turned into ruined remnants.
Yan Shixun’s gaze darkened, and he stepped over the stones underfoot, walking softly toward the ruins.
“Crack… crack.”
The sound of gravel rubbing against the soles of his shoes echoed softly, resonating in the empty, dark dome, amplifying the silence and desolation.
The collapsed roof, beams that had fallen, and the withered bones draped in old official robes…
Everything here pointed to what this place once was.
The Underworld.
Ye Li was right; although it was somewhat different from his previous guess of a burial ground, the Underworld was now desolate and without any overseers.
Whether it was the Yin officials or the Ten Yama Kings, all the officials who should have existed in the Underworld were nowhere to be found.
What remained was just the wreckage after a great disaster.
“Crack!”
The crisp sound of bones breaking echoed.
Yan Shixun’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly lowered his head to look.
A charred, withered arm was stretched across the black bricks and stones below, blending into the debris. In the uneven light, he had not noticed it at first, but now he saw that he had accidentally crushed the arm.
He quickly stepped back and muttered an apology under his breath.
Then he saw the owner of the withered arm. He was dressed in official robes, and in his other hand, now reduced to a charred skeletal hand, he still tightly gripped a thick book of names.
Yan Shixun’s gaze followed the skeleton’s form and, in the ruined hall, he saw more skeletal remains dressed in official robes, each with different appearances, but still easily recognizable for their identities.
These were the former rulers of the Underworld, not lost, but…
They… had all perished in the calamity a hundred years ago.
Yan Shixun pressed his lips together, somewhat dazed.
At this moment, the divine name Ye Li had given him, and the Dao had revealed all the past events to him, explaining everything to a mortal.
A hundred years ago, when the balance of Yin and Yang was disrupted, the Dao, in an effort to survive amidst the chaos, worked to protect the human realm from disaster caused by the collapse of Heaven and Earth. To do so, it had to retrieve all the scattered divine positions and powers, reinvigorating the failing Dao.
Though it was not a permanent solution, as long as it was not the end, there was still a chance for survival.
The Dao, seeing both the past and the future, cold and impartial, guarded Yin and Yang, making the most righteous decision for all sentient beings.
But for the Underworld, it had been a fatal blow.
All the divine positions fell, the Underworld collapsed, and the Ten Yama Kings along with all the Underworld deities had exhausted their strength.
What remained… was only the ruins before Yan Shixun, silently telling the story of the terrifying destruction that had once torn apart heaven and earth.
Yan Shixun had intended to look further into the future, but the Great Dao before him suddenly blurred into a cloud of mist, making it impossible to see clearly anymore.
He frowned and tried to cast a divination with his hands.
But he couldn’t even move a single finger.
It was as if some force within the void had stopped him from taking action. The Dao sighed and refused to reveal the future.
—Or perhaps… even the Dao itself could no longer determine what lay ahead.
A variable had entered the game, altering every predetermined ending.
What had once been a dead end began to stir with life again. A faint glimmer of hope finally emerged in the human world, and all causes and consequences converged in that instant, beginning to push toward a potentially brighter future.
Yan Shixun vaguely touched on something. But when he turned his mind to chase after it again, everything had already faded like a mirage and disappeared without a trace.
He instinctively reached forward, trying to grasp that fleeting moment of enlightenment.
But just then, from the deeper shadows untouched by light, a soft, mechanical sound suddenly echoed.
Yan Shixun’s head snapped up, his gaze sharp like lightning.
On the high platform, in what had once been a ruined temple, the collapsed bricks and shattered tiles slowly began to rise under an invisible and mysterious force, returning piece by piece to where they originally belonged.
Right before his eyes, the ruins were rebuilt.
“Bang!”
A final, thunderous crash shook the abyss.
At the very top, the headless divine statue regained its missing head.
Yan Shixun narrowed his eyes and looked up.
The statue depicted a handsome, youthful face. Though it radiated an innate authority that inspired reverence, the age of that face was unmistakably young.
What shocked Yan Shixun most was that the face somehow felt vaguely familiar to him.
He had seen it somewhere before…
Yan Shixun furrowed his long brows, but it was as though the Dao had sealed off that part of his consciousness. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t summon the memory of that face.
But no—he was certain he had seen it before. He was even *familiar* with it.
That was what his instincts told him.
Yet there was no time left for doubt.
An invisible force slowly pushed open a stone door weighing thousands of pounds. The restored temple opened up before Yan Shixun.
The pathway stretched out right to his feet.
As if someone, without a word, was saying: Since you’ve found this place—then enter.
Yan Shixun paused briefly, then calmly stepped forward, striding up the steps.
As the light moved closer, the dim and shadowy temple was illuminated inch by inch.
At the end of the cold and solemn hall, atop a high throne, a figure sat quietly.
But the darkness blurred every detail of that figure, leaving only a silhouette, making it impossible for Yan Shixun to discern who it truly was.
Yan Shixun was about to chant the Golden Light Incantation, but suddenly heard a faint sound from above.
The figure had moved.
For countless centuries, all who died had bowed beneath this very temple. Innumerable souls had once waited here in fear for judgment. And he had always remained aloft, unmoving. The statue cold, devoid of warmth, never once casting even a glance toward the mortal world.
The laws of yin and yang were immutable. Heaven and earth were merciless—fair and impartial.
His words were the law of death itself.
“You appearing here means I’ve already found you.”
The figure’s voice was cold and clear, like it was laced with eerie ghostly mist.
“Fortunately, it’s not too late. The Dao has finally turned its gaze.”
Yan Shixun furrowed his brows, momentarily unable to grasp the meaning of that voice.
Yet a bone-chilling cold crept up his spine, freezing him to the point that his teeth chattered. His firm muscles tightened in a reflexive tension, alert and rigid.
He was shocked by his own physiological reaction, which only made him more wary of the identity behind the voice.
Logically speaking, all his fears should have long since been worn away during his years of wandering the world with Li Chengyun, facing horrors and tragedies alike. The countless souls he had dealt with had gradually tempered his mind into one of calm and resilience. Ordinary ghosts could no longer shake him.
But now, just a few words from a disembodied voice made him feel as if the cold had reached into his very bones.
Besides—what did it mean by “I found you”?
Was it referring to him? Who was it? Lan Ze? Or someone else?
Yan Shixun wanted to ask, but the figure high above in the great hall gave him no chance.
In the dim light, that silhouette seemed to flick its sleeve.
In the next instant, Yan Shixun suddenly felt a powerful force crash down upon him.
A fierce wind howled, whipping his hair wildly and distorting his vision. He struggled to keep his eyes open and looked upward.
But no matter how quickly he formed hand seals and released power to resist, the wind pressed forward—not with harsh force, but with an unstoppable softness—as if gently but firmly pushing him out of the great hall.
“The Underworld has fallen. The might of the divine names is nearly spent. Only a sliver of hope remains to preserve the cycle of life and death.”
“Beneath the Underworld lies my domain, where life and death are equal, and I alone reign supreme.”
“But now, I lend this power to you.”
“Underworld…”
All around him, the towering statues of the gods trembled violently. Bricks, beams, and stones of the great hall, recently restored, shook loose and fell away. The majestic hall, like a scene replayed from a century-old disaster, once again collapsed before Yan Shixun’s eyes.
Only that icy voice pierced through the deafening rumble, clearly echoing beside Yan Shixun’s ears.
He could feel himself being pushed out of that shadowy abyss, back into the sea of blood where he had come from—returning to the Underworld.
It felt as though the master of that abyss had rejected his visit, shutting the gates once more and refusing to receive guests.
Through the blurring winds and tangled hair, Yan Shixun barely glimpsed part of the figure’s face amidst the swirling light.
And then came the final words—swallowed by the roaring wind—spoken with lips he could barely make out.
Yan Shixun strained to listen, desperate to catch the last sentence, but all that reached him was the fierce howl of the wind. Nothing more.
In the next moment, his vision spun. Light and darkness flipped.
Everything around him twisted and turned in a dizzying vortex.
He reacted immediately, forming seals to expel evil and stabilize his form.
But when he raised his head again, everything from just moments ago had vanished.
He landed steadily on the wet, muddy ground soaked in blood. The endless howls of the tormented ghosts returned to his ears, and waves of blood churned violently.
Yet there was no trace of the fallen hall or the collapsed statues.
It was as if it had all been a hallucination in his dazed mind.
But the lingering cold in his body reminded him—it was real. Beneath the blood sea lay the ruins of the Underworld.
It felt like the final shard of understanding had been handed to him by that obscured figure. Yan Shixun realized that the reason the ghostly aura remained trapped in the abyss, unable to escape, was because the lingering power of the Underworld’s remains still held sway, tightly imprisoning the spirits undergoing punishment in Hell.
And now, the century was nearly at its end.
Nine was the sacred number of the gods; ten was completion—the number of reincarnation.
Thus, the power left behind by the long-deceased King of hell was finally running dry before the next cycle could begin.
Everything was about to be reshuffled.
Yet at that very moment, Zhang Wubing’s convoy veered off the road into a shadow path that should not have existed—and collided with Lan Ze, who was consumed by his unrelenting obsession.
And Yan Shixun, in order to save Lan Ze, who was entangled in ghostly energy and unable to break free, had descended into the abyss of Hell—only to uncover the truth about the Underworld.
Had even a single step gone wrong, or had Yan Shixun not borne sincere intent toward Lan Ze and tried to help him… he would have missed his one and only chance to learn the truth.
And in Hell, the demons would have broken free in full force to devour the human world.
By then, it would have been too late for anything.
Yan Shixun stood still, slightly dazed, a strange and profound sensation rising within him.
It felt as though the way of heaven had long sought a glimmer of life—but the final miracle had always fallen short, the ending never quite complete.
And just as Yan Shixun questioned and doubted, the Dao that had rested silently upon his shoulders—finally answered him.
The great Dao, which had only ever whispered to ghosts and gods, gave an unequivocal response to a mortal.
It was a profound and mysterious realm, so close it felt like one could reach out and touch the heavens and the earth.
This was…
Yan Shixun’s heart trembled slightly.
But the connection with the Dao soon withdrew, and Yan Shixun’s consciousness was yanked back.
He steadied himself, and his eyes regained their clarity and resolve.
Though the trip to the abyss had left him with countless doubts, at least it wasn’t without reward.
For instance… the power now surging into his body.
It was different from the power Ye Li had lent him.
While Ye Li’s power was also cold and devoid of warmth, it carried with it a detached and murderous chill—like a battle-hardened general emerging from a field of bleached bones, still steeped in the will to kill. A hatred and hostility toward the world lingered, a desire to roar against the unfairness of fate.
Yet after that mysterious figure finished speaking, a different power descended upon Yan Shixun—one that, while hidden in darkness, carried with it the pulse of life.
Life and death cycled, yin and yang spun in the Taiji symbol.
Vitality and annihilation hinged on a single thought.
The most crucial part was—after this power entered his body, Yan Shixun could clearly feel it: the abyss lay directly beneath his feet.
At that moment, it was as though he ruled over hell itself.
Yan Shixun didn’t know who that figure truly was, and his wariness had never eased. But he was not a man too rigid to adapt.
Since this power could help him accomplish what he needed to do, then… of course, he would use it willingly.
Besides, he had a suspicion about the identity of that figure.
The King of Hell who had died a hundred years ago.
Who else but the ruler of the underworld could speak such bold, self-assured words? Whose power could so seamlessly align with the realm of the dead?
Yan Shixun’s mind grew calm, and a trace of a smile touched his bright eyes.
He slowly raised his hand, his slender fingers forming a seal.
“Now I summon…”
His deep, steady voice rang clearly from his lips.
“…Rivers, suns and moons, mountains, seas, and stars all lie in the palm of my hand. I am light when I will it, I am darkness when I will it. All gods across the thirty-three heavens bow before my law…”¹
At that instant, every wailing evil spirit fell silent, as if someone had pressed a pause button.
They stared at Yan Shixun in terror, struggling desperately, yet no matter how hard they fought, they couldn’t escape the golden light steadily engulfing them.
It was as if an irresistible force had seized them, dragging the horde of ghosts toward Yan Shixun.
A sea of blood surged, swallowing all the evil spirits whole.
The darkness of the abyss twisted and shattered, deafening explosions ringing out in succession as the entire space teetered on the edge of collapse.
Finally, with several thunderous cracks, all the darkness was swept away, and the howling evil spirits were trampled beneath Yan Shixun’s feet.
This world, carved out from reality, at last shattered under the weight of that colossal sound.
Time, which had been frozen, resumed its flow. The seemingly endless highway, stretching into the distance yet looping back on itself, tore free from the ghost path and returned to the real world.
On the road above the abyss, the earth quaked and the mountains swayed.
Lu Xingxing lost his footing and staggered forward, falling headfirst.
Ye Li frowned slightly and shifted to the side, avoiding Lu Xingxing’s flailing body.
As a result, Lu Xingxing could only watch in horror as the ground rushed up to meet him. Internally screaming “ah ah ah!” in panic, he crashed face-first with a loud *plop*, like a dog eating dirt. The impact left him dizzy and dazed.
He tried to get up, but the ground felt like a trampoline, bouncing and unsteady, making it impossible to keep his balance.
But from that angle, Lu Xingxing suddenly noticed—the abyss that had kept him from saving anyone was slowly closing.
The black fissure thinned into a faint dotted line, and the mountain forest and road reconnected.
But… Yan Shixun was still down there!
Lu Xingxing nearly howled in panic, terror overwhelming him as he scrambled to his feet, trying to grab Ye Li’s sleeve for help.
“Master Aunt! Master Aunt, my master uncle is still down there!! He hasn’t come up yet, so how could it be closing already?!”
Lu Xingxing was so anxious he broke out in a sweat, nearly on the verge of tears. “If only I’d jumped in to help master uncle back then!”
Beside him, An Nanyuan fared even worse—unlike Lu Xingxing, who had spent years being chased and toughened up by Taoist Song Yi through the mountains, An Nanyuan didn’t have that kind of physical resilience. He’d landed straight into a patch of shrubbery nearby and couldn’t even get up. His vision spun with rings of golden stars.
Because of Lu Xingxing’s shouting, Ye Li finally turned his head slightly and gave him a real glance.
“Lu Xingxing.”
Ye Li’s deep voice calmly called his full name.
Lu Xingxing trembled immediately. It felt just like when he was a kid and had made a mistake—being scolded by his grandmaster while hearing his full name spoken. He straightened up instinctively, standing stiff and upright.
“Are you saying… I’m not even as capable as a young Taoist who hasn’t completed his training?”
Ye Li seemed to be smiling.
But without Yan Shixun by his side, he looked like all warmth had been drained from him—like a divine statue standing high above the mortal world, carved of ice, watching humanity with cold detachment.
“I am with Shixun.”
Ye Li lowered his long, crow-feather-like lashes. The black hair draped over his shoulders floated gently in the still air, as if untouched by wind.
Behind him, golden light surged up from beneath the earth in massive waves. The road and the forest cracked open with trembling force, and light burst out from within those fissures, gradually spreading across the heavens and earth. It eventually blotted out the sky and swallowed all darkness.
Ye Li stood against the light, a being beyond ghosts and gods.
Ghosts and gods no longer held any attachment to the mortal world. They had already judged it beyond salvation and rejected the Great Dao’s call for help. As the last remaining divine being, he refused to support a crumbling cosmic order.
Yet for one soul—one dazzling, radiant soul—he had been moved.
From that moment onward, all that remained of the ghost god’s emotions had been transformed into a deep, singular affection.
The mortal realm was beyond saving… but it would be saved because of him.
The Dao was fading… but it would continue because of him.
And now, as Yan Shixun chanted his incantation from within the depths of the abyss, above the abyss, Ye Li responded to every word.
“You are light when you will it, and darkness when you will it.”
“The Dao is here, and so are you.”
“Rivers, sun and moon, mountains and seas, stars above—the thirty-three gods of heaven—all bow beneath your command.”
“Your actions define the Dao. What you punish is evil. Everything you say is the word of the Great Dao.”
“This is… the judgment of Fengdu.”
That deep, magnetic voice echoed.
The heavens lowered their gaze and acknowledged Ye Li’s decree.
From that moment on, the mortal who had received the solemn vow of the ghost god now stood above the three realms and five elements.
He held the protection of the god of death, and he became the sole bridge between ghosts, gods, and the cosmic order.
Somewhere in the void, it sounded as if “crack! crack!” noises echoed endlessly.
Ye Li’s narrow eyes remained frigid and lightless, stripped of any warmth. He looked down upon the Dao.
And then—
“Boom——!”
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