Chapter 289: Ritual Money, Old Capital (16)
The old man could tell at a glance that the young man who had “lost his way” to his doorstep was a living soul.
But in his past experience, living people had always appeared trembling with fear before ghosts and deities—submissive, afraid to even voice their dissatisfaction with the clearly unfair rules of Fengdu, let alone defy them.
Though he had always felt helpless about such a situation, he understood clearly that living humans truly lacked the power to stand against ghost deities.
And precisely because of this, the old man had formed an impression of the living as kind-hearted but timid.
Yet he never would’ve imagined… the times had changed!
Even exorcists among the living were no longer what he remembered. Let alone someone like Yan Shixun, a completely unconventional figure even among exorcists.
The old man was a beat too slow before he realized he had just been tricked by a junior.
—Scared of ghosts? That boy had been faking it the whole time! It was all an act to fool him!
The old man was so furious he panted heavily, gripping the doorframe so tightly his hand nearly crushed it.
Yan Shixun noticed the old man’s anger upon realizing he’d been duped but paid it no mind at all.
One hand casually tucked in his pocket, the other lifting a teacup in a distant toast, he gave a small smile and strolled toward the old man, his long legs wrapped in tailored slacks moving with calm confidence.
“Thanks for the hospitality. Let’s go.”
He stopped before the door, looking at the old man who still blocked the path with one hand on the frame, and tilted his head slightly. “What’s this? Even a ghost official wants to go back on his word? Weren’t you just eagerly inviting me in?”
“What’s become of the world? Even ghost officials have lost their old-school integrity.”
Yan Shixun slowly shook his head, clicking his tongue in feigned lament.
The moment he exposed the old man’s identity as a ghost official, the old man’s pupils shrank sharply.
He stared at Yan Shixun in stunned disbelief, unable to recover his senses.
That identity… had been buried for a thousand years. No one had called it by name in all that time. Everyone who once knew it—human or ghost—was long dead, leaving only him behind.
How could this be…
Who was this boy?
The old man’s face hardened, eyes growing colder as he stared at Yan Shixun.
In such a short span, his mood had been taken on a wild ride, completely swept along by Yan Shixun’s pace without realizing it. His emotions had risen and fallen at the young man’s whim, and he could no longer sit back and sip tea with idle ease like he had at the start.
Yan Shixun didn’t mind being scrutinized. He stood there openly before the old man, letting him look as much as he pleased, appearing perfectly innocent and sincere—just a genuinely earnest young man.
Only in the eyes, half-hidden under lowered lashes, did a ripple of amusement betray a flicker of truth.
Bit by bit, he revealed the information he held, controlling the tempo with precision so the other party couldn’t gauge how much he truly knew.
If one wanted to see through his depths, they had to dance to his rhythm, handing over control without even noticing.
And even if the old man did realize it was all a setup, Yan Shixun didn’t care.
Because this was a strategy laid out in plain sight.
—The old man’s weakness was clear: he was a ghost official, deeply attached to the old Fengdu. That attachment was his most obvious vulnerability.
So even if he saw through the ruse, he’d still have no choice but to step in voluntarily.
When someone’s psyche had been laid bare and their weakness seized, this was the risk they ran.
Unhurriedly, Yan Shixun blocked off all escape routes from every direction, leaving this former Fengdu ghost official with nowhere to run. Even knowing there was a pit ahead, the old man had no choice but to walk into it.
He stood leisurely before the ghost official, patiently letting the man stew a little longer.
And soon… the old man would realize the only path left to him was the one Yan Shixun had laid out.
The old man glared at Yan Shixun with deep hostility, grinding his teeth so hard they made a grating sound, enough to make one’s own jaw ache.
But after a long moment, he finally relented. Unwillingly, he let go of the doorframe and stepped aside, signaling for Yan Shixun to enter.
“If you’re here to eat, then eat. What’s with all the nonsense?”
He snorted angrily through his nose, no longer wanting to look at Yan Shixun’s annoyingly handsome face that only provoked his fury while leaving him unable to punch it. So, grumbling, he turned and stormed inside.
From Yan Shixun’s angle, the old man’s back now looked exactly like a cartoon cat he’d glimpsed once in an animation—tough on the outside, soft on the inside.
He laughed and shook his head, then lifted his legs and stepped into the small house.
The light dimmed instantly.
The sky over the mass grave was always gloomy and oppressive, devoid of sunlight.
And this place—clearly a hastily built shack—had even worse lighting.
The cramped, dark room was full of floating dust illuminated by the faintest stray beams of light. At first glance, all one could see was a gray haze, dead still and hopeless.
It was as if the homeowner’s mood had seeped into the house itself—somber, lifeless, devoid of vitality.
Yan Shixun had seen such homes before in impoverished mountain villages.
But when the homeowner was a once highly-ranked ghost official of old Fengdu, it all seemed jarringly out of place.
He stood at the entrance of the house, listening to the old man’s grumbling while casually scanning the layout of the space.
The house was small enough to see end-to-end in a single glance.
Within that tight space stood a simple bed and some tables and chairs. The kitchen was attached on the side. Any spare space had been stuffed with rolls and rolls of what looked like scrolls or books.
Although he couldn’t make out the writing on them, he could tell from the yellowed, brittle edges of the ancient paper that they might crumble into dust at the slightest touch.
Unlike the yard outside, which was full of signs of life, the interior of this room seemed more like the domain of someone obsessed—someone who refused to give up, consumed with the pursuit of something.
There was no time or energy left for everyday living. The owner had poured all of his hours into poring over these scrolls that crowded every corner of the room, desperately searching for answers.
—From the arrangement and contents of the room, one could clearly infer the homeowner’s character and current state.
But what drew Yan Shixun’s gaze most… was the fact that the furniture wasn’t made of wood.
The surface was glossy, cool, and smooth to the touch, with an aged yellow hue.
It was made of bone.
Whether it was the cabinet, tables, or chairs, all of them bore knobby protrusions along their joints, resembling human thigh bones and rib bones that had been polished and crafted into furniture.
Only such materials could make Yan Shixun feel a sense of reality, clearly reminding him of where he was.
However, this didn’t surprise Yan Shixun much.
After all, this was the lower layer of the old Fengdu underworld. There were no trees or stones on the mass grave outside—what was most abundant were bones scattered everywhere.
As a former ghost official of old Fengdu, using such materials casually was only natural and reasonable. It was just as he had guessed.
Yan Shixun raised his brows with interest. He walked into the house, casually placed the tea cup in his hand on the bone table, then naturally picked up a partially unrolled scroll lying on the table, as if he were just idly browsing without any purpose.
But only after picking up the scroll did Yan Shixun see what was underneath it—embedded into the tabletop was a skeletal ghost face.
The hollow eye sockets, devoid of eyeballs, sank deeply into the skull. The two black holes stared straight upward, resembling the gaze of death itself.
Caught off guard by such a pair of eyes, Yan Shixun only showed a hint of surprise before immediately regaining his smile.
He even waved at the skull with a cheerful expression.
That relaxed gesture was no different than a guest visiting someone’s house and casually greeting a pet dog they encountered.
The skull: “…………”
Its upper and lower jaws parted slightly, as if its mouth had fallen open in shock.
Then, it desperately twisted its skull, trying to turn toward the old man’s direction on the table, clearly terrified, as if it wanted to ask: What kind of creature is this?!
The collision of bones made a faint clattering sound.
The old man grumbled under his breath, cursing in a roundabout way, but his ears twitched slightly, sharply catching the sound from nearby.
He lifted his head and gave a quick glance, then went back to forcefully handling the ingredients in front of him.
He continued muttering curses, mumbling things like, “Young people these days have no respect for the old or love for the young,” and, “Liars ought to go to hell,” and especially, “The bastard who tricked these old bones of mine.”
Yet it seemed as if he hadn’t seen anything that Yan Shixun had done.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yan Shixun noticed the old man’s attitude of turning a blind eye.
He chuckled silently in his heart, knowing the old man was probably also curious about his identity and wanted to use this opportunity to test him and see how much he actually knew.
Now, both man and ghost were clearly aware of each other’s unusual nature. Each was using their own method to probe and draw something out from the other.
Whoever revealed their hand first would be the loser.
Yan Shixun understood this well, but he made no effort to stop it. He simply minded his own business.
His slender fingers followed the yellowed, fragile paper downward, reading every word on the scroll one by one.
Thanks to Li Chengyun’s extensive collection of ancient texts, Yan Shixun had long grown accustomed to all kinds of scripts and archaic language. No matter how old the book was, he had no trouble reading it.
As a result, he quickly realized that this scroll wasn’t just any book—it was an old registry once used by the former Fengdu.
Much like the folk legends of the Book of Life and Death—whoever’s name appeared on it, the underworld Yin officials would come to take them away.
But in truth, for the realm of the dead, the so-called Book of Life and Death was simply a work journal. It let the underworld officials know what tasks they had been assigned.
And what Yan Shixun now held in his hands was precisely one of those registries used in old Fengdu a thousand years ago.
The judgments were handed down by the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor, but the actual enforcement was carried out by the ghost officers. These registries were like work logs, recording who died when and where, what sins they committed, and what punishment was to be administered.
Yan Shixun lifted his eyes slightly, his gaze sweeping across the scrolls piled in the corners around him.
They were all the same type of registry as the one in his hands.
It seemed that after returning to the old Fengdu, this ghost official had spent the years collecting the registries of the past and reviewing them one by one.
Yan Shixun didn’t know much about the former Fengdu, but he did have people he could ask.
Whether it was Zhang Wubing and Jing Xiaobao, both of whom were Kings of Hell, or Ye Li, the lord of Fengdu.
From those people, Yan Shixun was able to receive sincere and detailed answers to all his questions about the Underworld.
Although Yan Shixun had not known earlier that Zhang Wubing was the reincarnation of a fragment of the King of Hell’s soul, he had, nonetheless, tested Jing Xiaobao several times on his knowledge of the Underworld. Since Jing Xiaobao had only recently taken over and, despite having the power to keep it running, had died at a very young age and was now still quite playful, Yan Shixun worried he might not be capable of handling the complex affairs of the Underworld.
But after hearing Jing Xiaobao’s stammering and guilty explanations repeatedly, Yan Shixun more or less figured out how the Underworld operated.
Every Yin officials had their own specific duties.
To prevent the Yin officials from interfering in mortal affairs and disrupting the balance of yin and yang, each of them only knew what they needed to do themselves and nothing about the duties of others.
It resembled the confidentiality systems used today.
This system was left behind by the former King of Hell. For a hundred years after his death, it allowed the Underworld to continue functioning in an orderly fashion.
If not for the fact that, later on, some of the Yin officials began coveting the Underworld’s power due to the long absence of oversight and betrayed their duties, causing unrest, the system left by the previous King of Hell might have been enough to sustain the Underworld indefinitely.
Jing Xiaobao, using his clever little mind, had thought long and hard but failed to come up with a better method. So, with a slap of his chubby paw, he cheerfully decided to adopt everything the former King of Hell had left behind, and merrily ran off to the underworld to play with vengeful spirits.
At the time, Yan Shixun had found him both infuriating and amusing.
But now, after learning about the balance of power that had existed between the King of Hell and Ye Li over the past thousand years, he began to harbor different suspicions.
Fengdu and the Underworld likely operated under similar systems.
No matter how lofty the ghost deities might be, the ones who actually traveled to the mortal realm to escort souls to the Underworld were still the Yin officials.
This system truly ensured that their work could proceed in an orderly fashion.
However, one thing was clear: judging by Ye Li’s fury a thousand years ago, those old Fengdu ghost officials who had participated in that battle would never have been spared by the war general.
From the war general’s point of view, those ghost officials bore karmic responsibilities too. Their past inaction had indirectly prevented countless vengeful souls from obtaining justice, and so there was no reason to let them live.
All of the old Fengdu ghost officials who had taken part in the battle perished entirely on that ancient battlefield.
The Bai family’s ancestor had discovered a dying ghost official at the doorstep of his home.
According to Master Bai, the ancestor was later saved by a ghost deity who was leaving the Southwest and passed through the dense forests…
Yan Shixun’s thoughts circled back and he furrowed his brow slightly.
He suspected that the one who had saved the Bai family’s ancestor back then was none other than Ye Li—right after killing the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor.
But judging from Ye Li’s usual behavior, he would not have spared a ghost official out of sheer mercy or whimsy.
Even just from the King of Hell’s recounting of events from a thousand years ago, Yan Shixun could feel Ye Li’s overwhelming rage.
All the more so for Ye Li himself, the person directly involved and in the throes of fury at the time.
There was no way any of the old Fengdu ghost officials could have escaped that battlefield.
They had all paid the price for their former arrogance. Karma came full circle—just as they had once coldly watched wailing spirits beg for a chance at revenge, unmoved, so too did they scream and plead before the ten thousand underworld soldiers, only to be mercilessly cut down.
In the end, their souls were shattered by the blades of soldiers driven by righteous fury.
Given all that, the ghost official who had supposedly escaped and collapsed outside the Bai family’s door must not have been one of those who had participated in combat in Fengdu.
Perhaps they had been in logistics—or administrative work.
Yan Shixun couldn’t be sure.
But just looking at the ancestor’s room, filled to the brim with scrolls and texts, he could tell how difficult it must have been for that ghost official to gather such materials—especially when they had nothing to do with his original duties—in the chaos that followed Fengdu’s downfall.
What’s more, the scrolls varied in age and condition: some were well-preserved, while others were tattered and yellowed, bearing the marks of time and hardship.
That ghost official had likely scavenged these scrolls bit by bit from the ruins like a mouse hoarding treasures, bringing them home, hoping to find something in the old records.
But what were they trying to find?
Yan Shixun’s gaze darkened.
He noticed that on the register in his hand, one name had been circled by the ghost official.
It belonged to someone who had died a thousand years ago.
The cause of death: fell in battle.
The listed offense: hatred.
Yan Shixun suddenly recalled the great battle Ye Li had fought a thousand years ago.
He had seen the hundred thousand ghost soldiers who once followed Ye Li—soldiers who had pledged their loyalty to him in life, died alongside him on the battlefield, and continued to follow him faithfully even after death.
Could this deceased person, who was being given such special attention by the ghost official, have been one of those soldiers?
Yan Shixun flipped quickly but carefully through the entire book and found that many names had been circled by the ghost official.
These individuals bore different surnames and hailed from various places.
But they all shared one striking trait:
—They had all died in battle a thousand years ago, in Ye City.
Their cause of death: hatred and vengeance.
…In other words, these people truly were the soldiers who had followed Ye Li back then.
Yan Shixun’s fingers paused as he turned the page, and his back tensed ever so slightly.
Was the ghost official collecting these death records to identify all those who had followed Ye Li? Or to examine their crimes and understand why they had attacked the old Fengdu in the first place?
Yan Shixun immediately ruled out the possibility that the ghost official was seeking revenge.
After being rescued by the ancestor of the Bai family, the ghost official not only refrained from harming him, but even gifted him a large amount of gold. He had passed on the events of the battlefield and Fengdu in the form of ghost plays, allowing the Bai ancestor to inherit and spread them, without any interference.
A ghost who sought revenge would never be so calm and methodical.
So… could it be that the ghost official was trying to uncover the truth behind the fall of the old Fengdu?
After all, no matter how one looked at it, Ye Li—a mere mortal who had never come into contact with ghosts or deities—should never have been able to defeat Northern Yin Fengdu.
Even a thousand years later, the mainstream belief remained that mortals could not stand against ghost deities. Yan Shixun had only ever seen his peers offer solemn worship—never had he seen any exorcist stomp on a divine statue while cursing loudly.
After all, these practitioners still relied on the power of various ghosts and deities to dispel evil and ensure the safety of the living.
Who would dare offend the ghost deities?
And yet, what everyone had believed to be impossible… had happened.
Even King of Hell, when he brought up the events of a thousand years ago with Yan Shixun recently, spoke in a tone of awe and wonder.
No human, ghost, or god had believed in Ye Li. Everyone had been waiting to see him fall—waiting to watch this overconfident general fall into regret after failure.
But unfortunately for them, their amusement was never realized. The result had shocked mortals, gods, and ghosts alike.
Not only had Ye Li defeated Northern Yin Fengdu, but he had also gained the approval of Heaven and Earth in broad daylight. He had even managed to strip away a power that the old Fengdu never possessed—becoming the rightful Lord of Fengdu, with dominion over death and judgment.
The ghost official at the heart of the old Fengdu’s downfall must have been the most shocked of all.
If the ghost official sought to uncover the truth behind the old Fengdu’s fall, that would make perfect sense.
Yan Shixun’s brows furrowed slightly, his eyes filled with caution.
He suddenly sensed someone watching him.
Using the scattered strands of hair partially covering his face, Yan Shixun quickly concealed the trace of emotion that had accidentally slipped through while he was deep in thought, hiding it once again under a calm exterior.
He composed himself and withdrew from the memories of a thousand years ago, refocusing his attention on the old man before him, ready to handle whatever suspicion or probing might come his way.
Yan Shixun was not afraid of being tested by the old man.
In fact, it was precisely what he had been guiding the old man to do.
If the old man didn’t react, there would be no flaws to exploit. In that case, he would be like a wall of iron and stone—impenetrable, offering Yan Shixun no glimpse of useful information.
But Yan Shixun still wanted to learn from the old man about Li Chengyun and the ebony statue—
And the secrets of the old Fengdu.
Although the karmic ties between Yan Shixun and Li Chengyun had not led him directly to Li Chengyun, they had brought him to the ghost official from the old Fengdu at the mass grave.
Very quickly, Yan Shixun realized that this was the perfect opportunity to learn how to completely destroy the old Fengdu.
Since the old man had not been one of the ghost officials responsible for combat in the past and had spent the last thousand years studying vast volumes of records, he must have a deep understanding of the situation in old Fengdu.
Perhaps, in the current state of decay and survival that old Fengdu found itself in, only the old man still knew the truth.
With this thought, Yan Shixun made up his mind. A faintly sincere smile curved at his lips, and he slowly raised his head, openly meeting the direction of the gaze.
The moment their eyes met, the old man couldn’t help showing a trace of surprise, but he quickly recovered and calmly turned his gaze away, continuing with his task of preparing food.
He probably hadn’t expected Yan Shixun to remain so sharp, even while deeply absorbed in reading, and to meet his stare so boldly.
“Young people these days really don’t know how to respect their elders,”
The old man muttered angrily, both embarrassed and annoyed. “You see me working here, yet you don’t offer a hand. Tsk tsk, the younger generation is getting worse by the day.”
Yan Shixun paused. Upon hearing those words—so similar to what he himself had said about the old man just moments ago—his eyes lit up with genuine amusement.
He hadn’t expected the old man to be so petty, insisting on “getting back at him.”
Rather than feeling offended, Yan Shixun relaxed his muscles, and the guardedness he had shown toward the old man earlier dissipated.
Because this kind of emotional display told him one thing for certain—this old man wasn’t his enemy.
Someone with deeply hidden intentions and malicious plans wouldn’t let their emotions slip so easily.
Even when it came to verbal disputes, he insisted on taking the lead… He truly resembled a cranky old man in a park.
Yan Shixun smiled and shook his head. He got up from behind the table and walked over to the old man. “Elder, you really can’t blame me for that. As a guest, I followed the host’s lead. You were just acting like the one fully in charge—how could I dare to offend your authority?”
“This is still your fault.”
Yan Shixun looked sincerely apologetic. “I really thought you enjoyed cooking, so I didn’t want to disturb you. Who would’ve guessed you actually needed help? You never said anything.”
The old man: “???”
Just moments ago, he had been feeling rather pleased with himself thanks to Yan Shixun’s compliments. But now, all that pride came crashing down.
Was this not absurd? He was clearly the one criticizing Yan Shixun, so why did it now feel like he was the one being blamed?
All he did was blink, and everything had completely flipped on him—how did that happen?
The old man couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard he tried, and his rapidly shifting emotions left him questioning his entire ghostly existence.
How could a living soul be so skilled at toying with him… Could something really be going on here??
Just as the old man began to doubt himself, Yan Shixun casually strolled over.
He shrugged off the black coat he wore, giving it a light toss, and neatly draped it over a chair nearby.
Then he nonchalantly unbuttoned the cuffs of his black shirt, stuffed them into his pockets, and rolled up his sleeves, revealing lean and well-defined forearms.
“See? Now that you’ve asked for help, here I am.”
Without waiting for permission, Yan Shixun stepped into the already-cramped kitchen, narrowing the distance between him and the old man to less than a foot.
“So, what would you like me to help you with?”
He smiled sincerely. “I thought it over—since you’re kind enough to take me in, I can’t just sit around and watch you work. I should do something to repay your kindness. So, tell me—what should I do?”
For a brief moment, the old man’s expression froze.
He never expected this living soul to act completely outside his expectations.
He pointed somewhat hesitantly at the stove beside them and said with skepticism, “Start the fire—can you even do that?”
Yan Shixun followed his gaze.
Beneath the small stove, covered in a thick layer of grey-black ash, a segment of pale finger bone poked out, lying helplessly half-buried.
The kindling used to ignite the fire… turned out to be human remains.
Yan Shixun calmly shifted his gaze and noticed several other bones stacked beside the stove—they looked like human arm bones.
The old man stared intently at Yan Shixun’s face, hoping to catch a flicker of fear. Only that would give him some sense of satisfaction.
But what he didn’t expect was that to Yan Shixun, this scene was nothing out of the ordinary.
As an exorcist, Yan Shixun was used to dealing with ghosts. And with his innate affinity for malevolent spirits, combined with the ever-reliable Zhang Wubing—who was even more effective than a morally dubious GPS—the results were nothing short of spectacular.
Despite his youth, Yan Shixun had encountered more evil spirits—both in number and power—than many entire sects of exorcists combined.
Not to mention, one of the standard corpse disposal methods in Nanming Mountain involved villagers burning bones like firewood.
Yan Shixun had seen it all.
So, he simply nodded and walked over without hesitation. In one fluid motion, he dragged the bones over, gripped each end firmly, and—with a sharp crack—snapped the bone in half.
The old man winced with a sharp “hiss!” as if his own teeth hurt just hearing the sound.
Unfazed, Yan Shixun squatted down, stuffed the broken bones into the stove, and turned back to ask the old man how to light it.
The old man stood dazed, feeling as if he hadn’t visited the human world in far too long. Had he completely fallen out of touch?
Were people outside now so terrifying? Not only did this young man not flinch at burning human bones—he even accepted it with ease?
The old man’s face reflected a deep sense of unreality. In a trance, he handed the fire striker to Yan Shixun and watched blankly as the latter skillfully lit the fire. Soon, the stove crackled with life, and the warm orange flames cast a glow across the dimly lit room.
In that moment, the old man found himself running through countless possibilities regarding Yan Shixun’s true identity. He even suspected Yan Shixun might be the King of Hell himself—or perhaps some chief among fierce ghosts.
Otherwise, how could he know about ancient transitions from a thousand years ago, and still handle such things with a calm face?
At this point, the idea that Yan Shixun was a living person seemed like the least plausible option.
“Elder, have you always lived here?”
Yan Shixun asked as he calmly watched the fire flicker in front of him, the flames reflecting in his eyes: “Have you never considered leaving this place?”
“Though Old Fengdu has its own rules, with your knowledge of it, leaving shouldn’t be all that difficult, right?”
The old man was briefly taken aback by the question. His aged eyes dimmed, and his expression grew melancholic, as though some painful memory had surfaced.
“It’s hard to leave one’s homeland. Fallen leaves should return to their roots… It’s not as easy as it sounds.”
He sighed. When faced with something that had long weighed on his heart, even his caution couldn’t hide the genuine sorrow in his voice. “After all, I was once a ghost official of Fengdu. I was meant to live and die with it.”
The corners of Yan Shixun’s lips twitched ever so slightly. Before the old man noticed, he had already adjusted his expression to one of sympathetic understanding.
“That’s true. If even you left, then no one would remain to guard Old Fengdu.”
“Still, is it really meaningful to waste all your time on something like this?”
Yan Shixun’s tone carried a mixture of pity and compassion. “Clinging to a pile of corpses, with no end in sight—this city has long since lost its master. Even if it continues to struggle on, won’t the Great Dao eventually discover it?”
“Do you really intend to perish along with the old Fengdu?”
Yan Shixun added, “You’ve already gained your freedom a long time ago. Shouldn’t you start thinking for yourself?”
The old man’s movements slowed more and more, until they came to a stop.
He stood in front of the stove, tilting his head back to look wistfully at the ceiling.
“Young man, you’re still too young to understand…”
He let out a light sigh. “I can’t leave. There are still things I must do.”
Yan Shixun raised an eyebrow in surprise.
He could tell the old man wasn’t lying—he truly had something planned, something with a clear goal.
Nothing compelled someone to explain themselves more than being misunderstood.
That earlier phrase the old man had said—“fallen leaves return to their roots”—had already confirmed his identity for Yan Shixun.
Even as a ghost official of the old Fengdu, he had no desire for revenge. Instead, he stayed to guard it, saying there were things that still needed doing, and he’d been investigating Ye Li all this time…
Could it be that the old man had also sensed the rise of the Ghost Dao and wanted to stop it?
After all, when Yan Shixun mentioned the old Fengdu would eventually be destroyed by the Great Dao, he had noticed the old man curl his lip in disdain, clearly dismissive of the idea.
The impending rise of the Ghost Dao had been predicted by his master many years ago. And now it seemed even the ghost official were aware.
His master had vanished at Baizhi Lake. When he reappeared, it was at the moment of his death.
Yan Shixun didn’t believe in coincidences.
He had every reason to suspect that his being led to the ghost official by fate was because his master had once come into contact with the man. His master likely wanted him to finish what he himself had left undone.
Li Chengyun’s death had come too suddenly for Yan Shixun—there hadn’t even been a final word left behind.
But after all the years spent living and learning under Li Chengyun’s guidance, Yan Shixun knew him well. In fact, Li Chengyun had been the first subject he used when studying human psychology.
As long as there was a lead, Yan Shixun would have no trouble deducing his master’s true thoughts before death.
His mind turned quickly, and he immediately adjusted his tone, putting on a low, mournful air.
“You remind me of someone I once knew.”
Yan Shixun lowered his eyelashes, his calm voice tinged with sorrow. “My master… was very much like you.”
Master?
The old man turned back, startled, to look at Yan Shixun.
He was confused by the sudden shift in attitude, and even more puzzled that the young man now used an honorific when addressing him—especially since the boy had been going tit-for-tat with him just moments ago.
But even more perplexing was how wrong his assumptions had been. If Yan Shixun had a master, then he wasn’t the King of Hell or a vengeful spirit.
He wasn’t a powerful ghost disguised as a living soul, but a real person from outside who had entered the old Fengdu…..This is bad!
A realization struck the old man, and his expression changed drastically.
The Ghost Dao had truly begun to take effect in the outside world!
“My master once said he foresaw the birth of the Ghost Dao. He wanted to stop it from happening. Like you, he had something he absolutely had to do.”
Yan Shixun lowered his head. Through the strands of hair that fell across his face, his expression was unreadable. “You didn’t lose Fengdu. But I… lost my master.”
The old man stared at Yan Shixun in a daze. Despite being on guard, he couldn’t help but be moved by Yan Shixun’s grief, genuinely feeling sorrow on his behalf.
Because Yan Shixun had so sincerely likened him to his own master, the old man, under the weight of that genuine emotion, actually began to feel like he was Yan Shixun’s master.
His gaze softened. The wariness in his eyes faded.
The old man let out a long sigh. “Though thousands may block my way… I shall go forth regardless.”
“Your master must’ve been a remarkable person.”
To speak of ideals to the idealistic, to proclaim righteousness to the righteous—
Even the hardest armor had weak spots.
Once someone’s heart was understood, it was easy to spot the vulnerabilities—and attack precisely there, shattering every last defense.
With deliberate emotional manipulation, Yan Shixun gradually wore away at the old man’s resolve. Without even realizing it, the old man’s stance began to shift toward Yan Shixun’s, seeing things from his perspective.
Yan Shixun’s lips curved slightly as he continued, “But my master, he didn’t succeed.”
“The heavens and earth are indifferent. My master died under the Great Dao.”
“But the things he left unfinished—as his disciple, I must take them up, bear them on my shoulders, and carry on his wishes from when he was alive.”
Yan Shixun slowly raised his head, looking solemnly at the old man. He asked with great seriousness, “That is why I came here—to seek your help.”
“You might find it ridiculous that an outsider like me wants to take on something like this, but please forgive my insistence.”
“Fengdu has changed, and the ghosts wail in anguish. If the Great Dao shifts again, it will only bring about more and more unending sorrow—just like the desolation after the Battle of Old Fengdu…….. Do you want to see that same tragedy unfold again?”
“So, please help me.”
Yan Shixun slowly stood up.
He reached out his hand, still stained with ashes from the furnace, and extended it toward the old man, earnestly saying, “Please. Let us complete this together, so the past will not repeat itself.”
True emotion was what moved people most deeply.
Even though Yan Shixun was subtly guiding the conversation and its direction, leading this sole remaining old Fengdu’s ghost official into his narrative without the man even realizing it, his emotions when speaking of Li Chengyun were genuine.
Between truth and falsehood, even the most experienced ghost official had been taken in by Yan Shixun.
The old man lowered his gaze to look at Yan Shixun’s outstretched hand but didn’t grasp it right away. He seemed lost in thought.
Yan Shixun, however, didn’t feel the slightest bit awkward at being left hanging. He stood there like a disciple respectfully waiting in the snow outside a master’s door, firm in his stance that unless the old man agreed, he wouldn’t leave.
After a long silence, the old man finally asked in a hoarse voice, “Your master… was Li Chengyun?”
As expected! His master had indeed been to Old Fengdu and had even met with the ghost official.
Yan Shixun’s heart gave a jolt.
He put on a look of surprise. “You knew my master?”
“Li Chengyun… had a disciple? He never mentioned that.”
The old man closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “I didn’t just know him—I knew him well!”
He raised his withered arm and pointed toward the mountains of corpses outside the window, saying to Yan Shixun, “Do you see those bodies out there?”
“Those are all the ghosts that accumulated in Fengdu over thousands of years.”
Back then, he and the man in white had stood beside those corpse mountains, looked into the unblinking eyes of the dead, and made a decision—
To stop the birth of the Ghost Dao!
They must never allow Old Fengdu a chance to rise again.
And here was where Yan Shixun had guessed wrong.
Although the old man held fond memories of Old Fengdu, he had never wanted it to return.
“A ruler without virtue must not be reinstated.”
The old man looked steadily at Yan Shixun. “Since a new master has already taken Fengdu’s place, it proves that the judgment of the heavens is clear. To the countless wandering souls, the new Fengdu is the right path.”
“You are a remarkable young man. I feel like I said nothing, yet you already saw through so much. If Li Chengyun truly had a disciple, it must be someone like you. But…”
The old man paused before continuing, “You were wrong about one thing.”
“I never stood on the side of Old Fengdu. I… have karma with the new master of Fengdu.”
He lowered his eyes, as though remembering something. “The Lord of Fengdu saved a mortal, and that mortal… saved me.”
When the ghost official had opened his eyes on the rough bed inside that village house, he had no idea where he was or what was happening.
He belonged to Old Fengdu—and Old Fengdu had perished.
In his understanding, he should have been reduced to ash alongside it.
And yet, here he was, still existing in the human world.
From the enthusiastic Bai family ancestor, the ghost official learned what had happened. Afterward, he fell silent.
He knew he was supposed to hate the new Lord of Fengdu.
If not for the new Fengdu, he wouldn’t have been reduced to a crippled mess, unable to move, like a dog without a home.
But as the days passed, and he recuperated in the Bai ancestor’s home, the ghost official—stripped of his power—began to see the world through mortal eyes for the first time.
He realized that humans naturally resented death.
Any unjust death caused by harm became a valid reason for a soul’s revenge.
Just like he had resented the new Fengdu upon waking.
But once the ghost official changed perspectives, and stood in the shoes of those ghosts he once judged, he suddenly understood: the rules of Old Fengdu had been too aloof, too inhuman.
—Pure death allowed no room for hatred.
But people weren’t made of clay, and neither were ghosts!
How could one not feel hatred for unjust suffering and calamity?
During that time, his thoughts were a complete mess. In his moments of madness, the Bai ancestor cared for him with great patience.
Moved by the kindness of a living man, the ghost official slowly gained warmth of his own.
Gradually, he began to accept the laws of the new Fengdu.
And he came to realize that perhaps the fall of Old Fengdu and the rise of the new one were both results of karmic balance.
The natural transition between heaven and earth.
“If the old has already passed, then let it live on in memory. Don’t ruin my beautiful recollection of it.”
The old man said calmly, “Young one, you guessed wrong. I never wanted Old Fengdu to be reborn. The new Fengdu… is the future.”
“But the Ghost Dao is not.”
The old man let out a cold laugh. “Ghosts have the Ghost Dao, humans have the Human Dao. Each follows their own path, as it should be.”
“Anyone who tries to cross those boundaries—whether they be man, god, or ghost—shall be struck down by all under heaven.”
The old man looked up and out the window, as if seeing the day he and the white-robed man had made their vow.
He had hidden in the depths of hell, using the multitude of souls to conceal himself, so that the city—now sentient—wouldn’t discover his true intentions and obstruct his plan.
But he had never expected that one day, someone would come knocking at his door.
The white-robed man had stood there, sleeves gathered, tall and crane-like in stature. With a smiling nod, he calmly invited him in.
“I remember now!”
The old man suddenly shouted, pointing at Yan Shixun. “You must be Li Chengyun’s disciple!”
“You master and disciple pair are exactly the same—even your excuses are lazy!”
“Your master said the same thing back then—he claimed he got lost!!!”
Author’s Note:
Ghost Official: I must’ve owed this pair of cursed master and disciple in a past life!!!
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