Chapter 286: Ritual Money, Old Capital (13)
Yan Shixun was stopped by the King of Hell. As he listened to the tale of the ghosts from the old Fengdu, his brows furrowed tighter and tighter.
He hadn’t expected that the souls from a thousand years ago would be classified this way—those “evil spirits,” even if they held resentment in their hearts, could do nothing to change their fate.
“The underworld has only just resumed operation, that little ghost Jing Xiaobao—you know him well, Yan Shixun—he’s playful by nature and just newly ascended as a ghost deity. He can hold up the underworld, but as for the millions of souls in the old Fengdu… he’s not enough to handle that.”
The King of Hell intentionally put on a look of sympathy and pity, glancing sideways at the ghosts collapsed along both sides of the street.
Following his gaze, Yan Shixun looked over just as a woman covered in festering sores and bloody filth timidly lifted her head. Their eyes met.
Her blood-tinged, murky eyes, long emptied of hope, held nothing now but a dull, muddled despair.
Neither alive nor truly dead, she could not escape this hell.
Yet in her eyes, there was no greed or malice.
Only sorrow and resentment directed at herself—blaming her bad fate, blaming her helplessness to save her family.
Being looked at by such eyes, Yan Shixun couldn’t help but pause, feeling as though something had softly struck his heart.
It didn’t hurt, but it brought a sorrow he couldn’t describe.
In Fengdu, it was rare for the living to tread. And for souls, emotions buried deep were even more easily perceived by others.
Yan Shixun understood that what he felt was the woman’s emotions.
But what surprised him was that he didn’t see any sign of evil in her.
When one dealt often with the truly wicked, it became easy to tell who was a true villain, and who was merely unfortunate.
In that woman’s eyes, Yan Shixun saw no indifference toward others, no hunger for flesh, no hatred for the world.
Only endless guilt.
He was silent for a moment, then softly asked Ye Li, “What crime did she commit?”
Ye Li, who hadn’t been paying attention to the evil ghosts along the street, lifted his eyelashes and followed the question with his gaze.
Just one glance made Ye Li furrow his brows—not out of disgust for sin, but from shock at what she had suffered in life and death.
“Her whole family was slaughtered by mountain bandits. Because she held resentment, she was locked into the suffering prison of old Fengdu.”
She had merely gone to the market, but when she returned, she found corpses littering the village. Her entire family had died with their eyes open, her child hacked into a pulp, her mother’s intestines strung from the house to the tree outside.
She had screamed and wept, but had no strength. When she ran around seeking justice, she was thrown into the freezing river and drowned in the snowmelt of early spring.
She died filled with hatred, yearning to avenge her family and fellow villagers.
But the moment she became a fierce ghost, the Yin officials of Fengdu arrived and took her away. She was thrown into the dark prison, never to see the light again.
Meanwhile, the murderers feasted, living off stolen gold and jewels. Even when they were eventually killed, they reincarnated peacefully.
Only she remained, unable to let go of her hatred from that year.
So day and night, she howled in the corners of old Fengdu, whispering her enemies’ names as though chewing their flesh.
“She blames herself, she couldn’t protect her family while alive, nor avenge them after death.”
Ye Li said calmly. As he spoke, he pressed his lips tightly together.
The King of Hell, who had hoped to provoke Ye Li into action, felt his smile falter slightly.
Yan Shixun let out a soft sigh in his heart.
The truly evil never reflect on their actions—only the good carry guilt.
He stepped forward, and under the stunned gazes of those around him, he slowly approached the wretched-looking woman. Without the slightest trace of disgust, he crouched before her, his eyes meeting hers.
“Do you want to leave this place?”
His voice was casual, like he was asking something insignificant.
But Yan Shixun, who rarely formed karmic ties with others, had reached out to a fierce ghost and asked whether she needed his help.
The King of Hell lowered his eyes and chuckled softly.
The official in charge looked surprised at first, then sighed sympathetically as he gazed at the woman.
The Taoist who had been fretting over the fate of the millions of ghosts in old Fengdu now saw Yan Shixun willingly take on this heavy burden, and couldn’t help but have tears fill his eyes.
The woman, hearing the voice, looked back at Yan Shixun in a daze. She mumbled something unintelligible, her speech halting from having not spoken to anyone in so long.
Even in the long torment, her mind had dulled to the point where she often couldn’t tell if she was still in Fengdu’s prison or back in that blood-soaked village.
But now, she saw the soul of the young man before her shining with light.
Humans and ghosts might lie—but their souls could not.
In a daze, she seemed to feel Yan Shixun’s emotions. Thick blood tears slipped down her decaying, rough cheeks. Trembling, she slowly reached out her hand, and gently… clutched the corner of Yan Shixun’s robe.
“Sir.”
The woman’s voice was hoarse and unpleasant, yet she stubbornly and haltingly expressed her plea, clinging to the faint hope before her: “Revenge, sir, revenge…”
She repeated those two words over and over. Her remaining sliver of sanity seemed no longer capable of supporting any other response.
Not far away, the Taoist watched this scene unfold. His heart ached, and he worried for Yan Shixun’s safety. He took a step forward, ready to act should the woman suddenly lash out.
But Yan Shixun lowered his eyes and solemnly gave the woman a nod. “I will.”
“The one who hurt you—his karma will follow him for eternity. It will be etched into his soul, accompanying him through every cycle of reincarnation, until he has paid for all that he owes you.”
Yan Shixun paused for a moment, then continued, “He will experience torment far worse than what you suffered. The pain and suffering you endured over the past thousand years will be repaid—with interest.”
“I promise you.”
Yan Shixun’s voice remained calm. “All karma will eventually meet its end. When that time comes, you’ll be able to… finally leave this place without any lingering resentment. Fengdu will guide you to your next life.”
“Even if this justice has come a thousand years too late.”
As Yan Shixun bowed his head, a few strands of hair fell forward, veiling his expression and making it difficult for anyone to see the emotions in his eyes.
Behind his folding fan, the King of Hell’s lips curved into a smile.
As expected, rather than wasting time negotiating with Fengdu, it was better to directly seek Yan Shixun’s help. It was far more satisfying than trying to talk with Ye Li.
Whoever gained Yan Shixun’s support, gained Fengdu’s power.
The King of Hell gave Ye Li a meaningful glance.
Ye Li understood his intentions perfectly.
However, since the King of Hell’s request wasn’t for personal gain, but for the souls long trapped in the old Fengdu, and Yan Shixun had already agreed, Ye Li had no objections.
He silently acknowledged Yan Shixun’s judgment, willingly handing over control of Fengdu to him and letting him carry out the trials.
—After all, he and Shixun shared the same mind and ideals. Letting Shixun preside would only deepen the karmic bond between them—entangling it so tightly that even the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth wouldn’t be able to unravel it.
If that were the case, why resist?
The streets, once filled with wails and howls of grief, had fallen silent the moment Yan Shixun knelt before the woman.
Every weeping, tormented spirit stared blankly at Yan Shixun’s figure.
Even the most uninformed mortals—those who had once skirted death and seen ghost officials—knew by now that exorcists existed in this world.
But those exorcists were usually draped in fine garments, riding majestic steeds with an air of grandeur and authority—far removed from the likes of ordinary people.
Some, in moments of utter desperation, had tried seeking their help—most of the time, to no avail.
Thus, these ancient ghosts, thousands of years old, felt not just an instinctive reaction to exorcists, but also fear and awe for them.
But this man and his companions before them left all the spirits bewildered.
No words, no matter how kind, could compare to the true compassion and sympathy that emanated from a person’s very soul.
This group was clearly made up of the living—and some among them were terrifyingly powerful. They could have walked by, heads held high, ignoring the stench of rot from the streets like all the other underworld emissaries.
Yet, not only did they refrain from doing so, they even offered help. They said they would guide the spirits to reincarnation.
And that young man—an exorcist—had even promised them revenge with his own mouth!
The spirits stirred.
They couldn’t contain the rising emotion within them. Though they hesitated, uncertain if this sudden blessing could truly be real, the lure of revenge—of striking down their enemies—was too much to resist.
One by one, the evil spirits began to crawl out from every shadowy corner.
The street, which had been desolate and wrecked, suddenly became crowded.
The rescue team members, not yet accustomed to being in a lair of malevolent ghosts, noticed a red hue spreading in the corners of their vision. They blinked in confusion, and when they finally looked around—startled—they were greeted by a mass of evil spirits.
They were so shocked they instinctively tensed, readying themselves for a threat.
However, the official in charge held down the hand of the teammate beside him, slowly shook his head, and then pointed toward Yan Shixun, signaling him to watch.
Yan Shixun had seen the ghosts appearing on the streets, but he made no move to oppose them. His muscles were relaxed, and he showed no sign of taking a defensive stance.
He simply stood there, quietly waiting.
Waiting for the malicious ghosts to speak and tell their grievances.
Or… to attack him.
It was instead Ye Li who furrowed his brow, growing nervous and worried that these malevolent spirits might harm Yan Shixun.
But ultimately, this was Yan Shixun’s own decision. He could do nothing but reluctantly force himself to stay put and silently observe how the situation unfolded.
These evil spirits varied in appearance and dress, but all were in rags, covered in blood and pus, with not a patch of intact flesh on their bodies.
Some had their bellies split open, internal organs hanging out and swaying with their steps, dripping foul-smelling blood onto the ground.
Others had their skulls crushed, pale white brain matter mixed with blood smeared across their faces, bulging eyeballs nearly popping out of their sockets—horrific to behold.
Even the official in charge, who had seen countless gruesome scenes and considered himself hardened and used to such sights, felt his stomach churn and bile rise up his throat.
The evil ghosts slowly approached Yan Shixun from all directions, gradually surrounding him.
Yan Shixun stood with his arms hanging at his sides, neither dodging nor afraid, his gaze calm as it landed on the approaching spirits.
They slowly reached out toward Yan Shixun, yet it seemed they had no intention of harming him.
—In their eyes, blood-tears were flowing.
These malevolent spirits, who had harbored injustices for thousands of years with no one to hear their grievances, had finally, just before falling into utter despair, witnessed with their own eyes the crumbling walls of the old Fengdu. The light shining in from beyond fell upon their faces.
All along his journey here, Yan Shixun had been watching these ghosts from the corner of his eye. He had seen them biting and tearing at one another, had seen some driven mad by torment, their deranged appearances all the more disturbing.
But now, even the most deranged among them made no move to attack him.
The endless passage of time had already robbed many spirits of the ability to speak. Their long-unused tongues were like rusted iron gates—no matter how many resentments and sorrows they wished to voice, they could only bottle them up inside.
“Don’t rush.”
Yan Shixun understood the urgency in their eyes. He deliberately softened his voice, bringing with it a calming power that could soothe all things around him.
“No matter what reason led to your imprisonment in Fengdu, the Northern Yin Fengdu is gone. The old Fengdu has been abolished. A new Fengdu will come to hear your grievances. There is no need for you to recount everything about your lives and deaths. The new Lord of Fengdu will judge your deeds and karma, and send you on to your next life.”
Yan Shixun’s voice was gentle, but incredibly resolute: “Even if a thousand years or two thousand years have passed… wrongs cannot be made right by time. This justice and morality will be returned to you.”
“The day the old Fengdu is completely destroyed will be the day you leave this place and go to the new Fengdu to receive your judgment.”
Some of the malevolent spirits quietly listened. They opened their mouths to speak, but tears came first.
They stood around Yan Shixun, forming layer upon layer, yet none displayed any hostility. Instead, they obediently listened to his words. Their suddenly slumped shoulders and relaxed souls were like those who had finally found someone willing to listen to their long-held resentment and sorrow.
The ghosts had all seen how the exorcist had treated the woman.
Though they often fought other spirits out of anger and frustration, the long centuries of solitude, and the absence of ghost officials, had made even the memories of punishment seem like nostalgic stories—better than endlessly reliving their deaths over and over again in their minds.
Because of this, most of the ghosts were roughly aware of the other spirits nearby.
So when Yan Shixun made that promise to the woman, it was not just meant for her.
The other ghosts understood as well. Along with the woman, they all felt a deep stirring that reached the very depths of their souls.
They had never seen Yan Shixun before, nor did they know if he would keep his word.
But they had no other choice.
The old Fengdu had waited a thousand years for someone like Yan Shixun. If they missed this chance, they did not know how much longer they would have to wait.
A thousand years, and another thousand… they were nearing their limit.
The ghostly aura grew denser, eroding their minds. The human part of them grew smaller and smaller. In the end, they would forget their names, forget where they came from, even forget their hatred—and become nothing more than deranged, malevolent spirits wandering the streets of the old Fengdu.
And the enemies they had remembered for a thousand years would also vanish into oblivion, their crimes buried beneath the sands of time, remembered by no one.
The ghost didn’t want to fall to that extent—it was still desperately clinging to its desire for revenge.
For its own death and unwillingness to accept it, for the loved ones it once had.
For that reason, they were willing to put their trust in Yan Shixun.
Yan Shixun clearly saw the wavering in the malicious spirits’ hearts. He remained calm, waiting silently, waiting for them to bow their heads and ask him for help on their own.
Although he truly wished to save these evil spirits and couldn’t bear to see souls that were never meant to suffer in the Underworld remain trapped in Old Fengdu without release—
At the same time, he was also very clear: these were ghosts, not people.
He didn’t know if, over the past thousand years, any of the souls had lost hope and turned evil, nor did he know whether some souls had acted out simply because they refused to leave Old Fengdu.
While rescuing the evil spirits, Yan Shixun remained cautious of them.
He had never been one to give selflessly and silently. What he believed in was balanced karma—repayment for cause and effect.
Besides that, Yan Shixun also wanted to question these evil spirits about Li Chengyun and the ghost infant.
Since they had been lingering in Old Fengdu all this time, surely they would have heard something.
The streets were always the best place to hear and spread news—it was where everything traveled fastest and furthest.
Even if they were now ghosts, and perhaps no longer interested in the outside world, fixated only on their pain—so long as even one of them gave Yan Shixun a clue, that would be a huge help to him.
Yan Shixun cast out his bait and, as always, carefully took hold of his trump card, keeping control firmly in his own hands.
—If he had gone begging the ghosts, asking for their permission to help them, they would never have cherished it. They might have even made outrageous demands or turned against him.
But if the situation were reversed, and the ghosts saw a glimmer of hope and had to beg for it, had to struggle through hardship to earn a chance at release—they would instead treasure that opportunity.
Although the results of both approaches might look the same on the surface, Yan Shixun had never been one to play the martyr or make blind sacrifices.
He could save them—but being saved by him could not be something the evil spirits took for granted.
Yan Shixun’s thoughts turned again. He recalled the words Master Bai had spoken earlier about Li Chengyun, and the more he thought about it, the more urgently he wanted to find Li Chengyun.
And also that missing ebony statue from Haiyun Temple.
It didn’t take long before the ghosts began exchanging glances with each other, reaching some kind of consensus.
One elder ghost was pushed forward, and the others instinctively moved aside to make a path. The elder stepped out from the crowd and came to Yan Shixun to express the spirits’ collective intent.
The elder still found the sudden appearance of hope difficult to believe. He asked Yan Shixun several times, over and over, to confirm whether he truly meant to help them.
Over the course of thousands of years, Old Fengdu had accumulated tens of millions of souls—souls that had entered but never left. All of them had been trapped in these ruins. To judge their karmic burdens one by one and send them off for reincarnation? That was easier said than done.
Moreover, in the elder’s memory, Fengdu belonged to the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor. It was a realm of pure death, where karma played no part.
When he first heard Ye Li speak of judgment, his initial reaction was disbelief. But as he thought more deeply about it, a surprising joy took root—along with a growing unease, unsure whether such a wonderful thing could truly come to pass.
Yan Shixun nodded solemnly and gave the elder a firm response: “Everything you’re worried about is not a problem for us.”
The elder was so overjoyed he didn’t know what to say.
But at that moment, Yan Shixun’s expression suddenly showed hesitation. “It’s just that…”
His voice wasn’t loud, but those two words were enough to make the recently thrilled crowd of ghosts collectively hold their breath. They all looked toward Yan Shixun—nervous and confused.
“There are indeed some parts of this matter that are difficult for us to accomplish.”
Yan Shixun’s face showed genuine concern. “One of the prerequisites for helping you leave this place is that Old Fengdu must be destroyed. Otherwise, everything that follows will be meaningless.”
“I’m not particularly skilled in my craft, and I’m just an ordinary mortal. I truly don’t have the strength to go up against a behemoth like Old Fengdu.”
He sighed. “My power alone is far too insignificant.”
At once, many of the ghosts panicked.
More unbearable than eternal darkness was seeing light just within reach, only to watch it vanish before their eyes.
That moment of pain was even more agonizing than the torment they had endured for thousands of years.
Soon, ghosts began carefully asking if there was anything they could do to help Yan Shixun.
No matter what it was—as long as it helped him succeed—they were willing to do it.
In the blink of an eye, the ghosts who had been cold and indifferent, who had shown no interest in the outside world when Yan Shixun and his team first entered Old Fengdu, suddenly transformed into his most devoted supporters.
Those faces that had once been dull and lifeless now burned with emotion, more passionate about destroying Old Fengdu than even the living members of the group.
Everyone watched this transformation unfold with their own eyes, overwhelmed with awe.
The official in charge looked at Yan Shixun with a mix of admiration and complicated emotion.
Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would have found it impossible to believe that someone could, in such a short time, unite a scattered and chaotic enemy into a single, focused force of support.
What’s more, the ghosts looked truly eager—afraid that Yan Shixun might change his mind and leave. They actively dug up every bit of information they knew, laying all their cards on the table for him to see.
They genuinely appeared to need Yan Shixun.
The official in charge couldn’t help but feel a swirl of emotions. Even if those ghosts had been wrongfully judged a thousand years ago, after suffering in the prison of Fengdu for so long, who could say whether they still resembled the people they once were?
After all, no matter how good a person was, spending time in a prison would inevitably change them in some way.
It wasn’t uncommon for some to fall into evil after such an experience.
Yet even so, these ghosts—who could have turned malevolent—behaved as meekly as kittens in front of Yan Shixun, eagerly vying to follow him.
It took the official in charge quite a while to regain his drifting consciousness, and once he did, he felt deeply relieved. Thank goodness Yan Shixun was on their side.
He even stroked his chin and began considering whether, once they returned, he should ask Yan Shixun if he’d be interested in joining the special department.
It offered social security benefits and a housing fund, flexible work hours, and for employees who were already married—specifically, one particular couple—it even came with a house.
At first, it had just been a joking thought. But when the official in charge came back to his senses and looked again, he saw the ghosts flocking around Yan Shixun, falling over themselves to offer suggestions and voluntarily spilling secrets about the Old Fengdu. He couldn’t help but become a little serious about it.
He made up his mind. Once they got back to Binhai City, he would do everything in his power to recruit Yan Shixun into the special department.
—And if that didn’t work, then as a backup plan, he’d at least try to get Yan Shixun to become a long-term consulting master for them.
Meanwhile, the other rescue team members were completely dumbfounded.
Some even rubbed their eyes, trying to figure out if what they were seeing was real or some kind of illusion.
One team member said, “Feels like I’m back in college math class…”
Someone nearby asked, “You mean Mr. Yan is as terrifying as a math professor?”
The team member wore a complicated expression. “No, it’s more like… that feeling when you zone out for one minute during a complex variables class, and then when you snap back, the professor has already explained an entire universe… Did you catch how Mr. Yan was doing all that just now? Why are all those evil spirits so enthusiastic around him?”
It was like they were seeing a high-ranking magistrate descending from the heavens!
The person next to him said, “…Good question. I don’t know either.”
A student who had failed every college math course felt personally attacked! Why use math analogies—stabbed right through the lungs!
While everyone else stood frozen in place, only Ye Li kept his gaze locked on Yan Shixun. He watched as that elegant and poised figure moved effortlessly through the crowd of ghosts, coaxing them with just a few calm and airy words until they couldn’t wait to spill their secrets.
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, one he couldn’t suppress.
Adorable… He really wanted to pet him.
Ye Li’s long fingers, resting at his side, unconsciously rubbed together. He thought to himself that his own proud and lazy big feline—because Yan Shixun reminded him of one—was just too irresistibly tempting. He really wanted to reach out and stroke that sleek, glossy fur.
That good mood even overshadowed the heavy pressure he had been under ever since stepping into Old Fengdu.
At the same time, Yan Shixun keenly picked out the exact bit of information he wanted from the overlapping chatter of the ghosts.
“You just said there are still ghost officials in the city? Can you elaborate? Where and when did you see them? If the ghost official is still around, then why isn’t it handling anything in the city?”
The ghost he addressed nodded, ready to share everything it knew.
According to that ghost, although it had never left the wretched prison of Fengdu over the past thousand years, it still sensed something had gone terribly wrong.
Because back then, many ghost officials had fled in panic.
Just like how wealthy people clutching cash boxes would flee a collapsing city, those ghost officials—who once barked orders with authority—had scattered in total disarray, completely ignoring the surrounding spirits as they frantically ran for their lives. Soon, the city was empty, leaving only the evil ghosts behind, staring at one another in confusion.
Some of those evil ghosts tried to follow them and escape Fengdu, hoping to return to the living world for revenge.
But before they could even leave the city, as they approached the city walls, their souls were shattered and dispersed. All that remained was a skull, which added a layer of height to the wall and served as a warning to the rest. It told them clearly: once a soul entered Fengdu after death, it should abandon all hope of ever leaving.
The ghosts had long grown used to that reality—until one day, a ghost official actually came back.
The evil ghosts had trembled with fear, worried that the ghost official had returned to punish them.
But the ghost official ignored all of them. It wandered through Old Fengdu looking dazed and lifeless, paying no attention to the other spirits and no longer performing any of its duties.
It soon vanished from their sight again.
After that, it seemed to be living in seclusion, rarely seen by any ghosts ever again.
“But, if you’re looking for it, I know where it is.”
Another ghost jumped in, eagerly pointing to a direction deep within the city for Yan Shixun.
“The layout here is similar to the rumors about the mortal world—it’s a tomb-like structure with nine descending layers. You’re currently on the first level, where souls with the lightest sins are said to be held in the legendary Eighteen Levels of Hell.”
“If you want to find that ghost official you’ll need to go down.”
Yan Shixun frowned and asked, “Where’s the entrance to the lower levels?”
Several ghosts exchanged glances, their faces breaking into kindly smiles—which, given their already terrifying appearances, only made them look even more horrifying.
“This is Fengdu,” one of the elder ghosts said, nodding and bowing slightly. “Though the scenery looks similar to the mortal realm, it doesn’t belong to the living. This is a gathering place for countless souls.”
“To descend,” he continued, “you’ll need anger and sin.”
Unlike the time Yan Shixun had personally walked through the hell of the human world, where the Eighteen Levels of Hell had literal, interconnected physical layers, the Northern Yin Fengdu was different—it had existed since the birth of heaven and earth, and its concept of death was far more abstract and pure.
Here, there were no physical bodies—only souls.
Because of this, its nine levels weren’t physical in nature, but were instead determined by the anger and resentment entangled within a soul.
The deeper the hatred, the further one fell.
After listening to the explanation from the ghost, Yan Shixun fell silent for a moment.
Then, with a hoarse voice, he asked the question he least wanted to face from deep within his heart.
“Have any of you… ever seen a hermit dressed in white?”
Yan Shixun slowly raised his hand and gestured in the air beside him to indicate the person’s height and build. “He was about this tall, looked something like this… similar to me…”
As Yan Shixun described him word by word, the image of Li Chengyun once again came alive in his mind.
That early spring he had never dared look back on—he finally chose to approach it. The figure that had been gradually fading away was now being firmly etched back into his memory.
He hid the question he most wanted answered among a slew of others, making sure the ghost wouldn’t detect his vulnerability.
As expected, the ghost didn’t catch onto Yan Shixun’s true emotions. It simply pondered seriously after hearing his description.
But the others who heard what Yan Shixun said fell into a long silence.
The Taoist turned his face away, unable to bear it, his eyes filled with sorrow.
No one spoke to break the stillness.
The King of Hell turned his head and silently mouthed words to Ye Li: Aren’t you worried about your exorcist? He looks like he’s about to cry.
Ye Li’s hand at his side had already clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
He wanted to go forward, to pull the exorcist he loved into his arms, and tell him that there would never be any more partings—that any death, he would carry for him.
He wanted to build a world for the one he loved. If Shixun loved this world, then so would he. As long as Shixun wished it, the Great Dao would never collapse.
He wanted his exorcist to laugh in peace from now on, never facing danger again.
But Ye Li knew very clearly—his Yan Shixun was someone who could hold up the sky himself for the lives he needed to protect.
What Yan Shixun needed wasn’t comfort. He would never hide behind anyone to avoid danger, nor did he need Ye Li to shield him from responsibilities.
He had grown up amidst storms, defending the balance of yin and yang, upholding the heavens and earth.
Ye Li marveled at Yan Shixun’s unwavering brilliance, and naturally, he would never do anything that might make him uncomfortable.
No matter how much he wanted to… he couldn’t.
The King of Hell’s gaze dropped to notice Ye Li’s whitened knuckles.
He sighed softly and shook his head with a smile. It seemed that even if he died now, he could die with peace of mind.
Fengdu had reconnected with the human world. The once unbreakable bridge was now forged anew—by Yan Shixun.
The King of Hell was certain that no matter what the future held, as long as Fengdu remained, the balance between yin and yang would not collapse. The souls of the dead would receive fair judgment of their deeds and karma, and then be reincarnated into the next life.
Life and death would return to balance, and the Great Dao would be revitalized.
As for the Ghost Dao…
The King of Hell’s eyes darkened as he looked toward Yan Shixun.
After Yan Shixun finished describing Li Chengyun, the ghosts thought hard—and one of them really had seen him.
“It must’ve been not long ago. That exorcist did indeed come through here. Because he was dressed all in white, which looked so out of place here, I took a few extra glances.”
The ghost hesitated. “I’m not sure exactly where he went or what his goal was, but judging by the direction… he seemed to be going down.”
Down?
Yan Shixun frowned slightly, quickly catching the key point.
That ghost official was also on a lower level.
Could his master have come here to find that ghost official?
After all, if anyone had seen the warrior from a thousand years ago, it would be the old ghost official of Fengdu.
And if that ghost official, after returning to the old Fengdu, carved what he saw into a wooden statue—that would make perfect sense.
What Yan Shixun didn’t know was how his master learned about this, or how he had managed to locate the old Fengdu so precisely.
He set those doubts aside for now and raised his hand to summon the King of Hell. “Xiao Bing, come here.”
The King of Hell was confused at first, but before he reached Yan Shixun, he figured out what he meant.
—That ghost had just said that to go down, one’s soul must be weighed for sin and wrath.
And clearly, by those standards, Yan Shixun wouldn’t qualify to descend into the lower levels of hell.
If they judged by virtue, maybe—but by sin? Impossible.
There were too many lives he had directly and indirectly saved. It would be hard to send him to hell—he was more likely to ascend on the spot.
Easily.
…And in this group, the ones with the heaviest sins were none other than himself and the Lord of Fengdu.
The King of Hell recalled every past life he had reincarnated into.
Because he had once dealt closely with death and encountered countless ghosts, every time he reincarnated as a fragmented soul while concealing his identity, the Great Dao always interpreted his death aura as sin. As a result, he constantly faced dangers unimaginable to most people—and always died young.
“…You want me to be your navigator?”
Though the King of Hell had understood Yan Shixun’s intent, he wasn’t thrilled. He spoke helplessly, “There’s a saying in the human world—why use a butcher’s knife to kill a chicken? And now you’re using the King of Hell… as a guide. Isn’t that a bit…”
Before he could finish, Yan Shixun turned his head and calmly looked at him.
Recalling the karma that had tied Zhang Wubing and Yan Shixun together, and thinking about the fate of the Great Dao that would one day rely on Yan Shixun to save it, the King of Hell fell silent.
Then, he nodded solemnly. “…Fine.”
What else could he do? Did he even have a choice?
Didn’t he see Fengdu watching from the side, ready to strike the moment he refused?
Old Fengdu had already fallen at Ye Li’s hands. If Ye Li unleashed the murderous aura built up in his soul, it would surely rattle the entire old Fengdu. The hell they were supposed to enter might get blasted into pieces.
Just the thought of that scene made the King of Hell all the more certain—Ye Li must not be allowed to make a move.
The King of Hell: Sigh… In the end, I still took all the responsibility.
He let out a sigh, lowered his lashes slightly, and began chanting the Underworld Seal in a fast, low tone while forming hand signs.
In that instant, all the death energy stored in the King of Hell’s fragmented soul burst forth.
The ground beneath them roared with a deafening explosion.
The earth cracked open.
A sudden sense of weightlessness overwhelmed them.
Everyone’s vision went black—and they felt themselves falling straight downward.
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