Chapter 290: Ritual Money, Old Capital (17)
After confirming the relationship between Yan Shixun and Li Chengyun, the old man’s attitude toward Yan Shixun changed dramatically.
Although he no longer regarded Yan Shixun with suspicion… he also didn’t treat him kindly anymore.
“When you tricked this old man, I should’ve guessed it! Only that guy Li Chengyun could pull something like this off—now we have you too!”
The old man was so furious he puffed out his beard and glared, pacing back and forth across the already cramped room. Each step he took was forceful, as if he wanted to stomp the floor into pieces.
He was holding back a belly full of anger, and as he thought about all the times Li Chengyun had screwed him over in the past—both openly and secretly—the old and new grudges together made his face turn nearly purple. Yet, frustratingly, there was nothing he could do to settle the score.
The more he thought, the angrier he got!
Yan Shixun took in the old man’s reaction, chuckled softly, and stepped forward with practiced ease to calm him down.
“Elder, in our line of work, it’s essential to remain wary of ghosts. What’s more, you are a ghost official of Fengdu—far more powerful than ordinary spirits. Naturally, we had to be cautious around you at first.”
“But after getting to know you, I realized something.”
Yan Shixun looked straight at the old man, his gaze sincere. “You are a respectable and honorable ghost official. You would never harm me.”
The old man’s furious tirade came to an abrupt halt.
He stopped in his tracks, turned to eye Yan Shixun suspiciously. “Really now?”
“Young man, are you trying to fool me again?”
The old man swore—after serving as a ghost official for so many years, he had never met a pair of mortals like Li Chengyun and Yan Shixun!
He couldn’t tell which of their words were true or false. Everything they said sounded sincere, and it left him momentarily dazed. Only after quite some time would he suddenly realize—he’d probably been duped again.
Since Li Chengyun had left, it had been ages since the old man felt this kind of stifled frustration with nowhere to vent.
And now, thanks to Yan Shixun, those bitter memories came rushing back.
Thanks a lot, you conniving little soul!
Now that he knew Yan Shixun was Li Chengyun’s disciple, the old man couldn’t help but scrutinize him with suspicion, trying to spot any flaws or inconsistencies. He even doubted every word Yan had just spoken, unwilling to trust him so easily again.
He’d been deceived too many times—so many, in fact, that even he couldn’t immediately catch on anymore.
So, the old man simply refused to believe Yan Shixun.
—Yet when he asked, “Really?” he couldn’t help but puff up with pride, like his tail was about to curl from satisfaction.
Yan Shixun tried hard to suppress any obvious emotion, but the amusement in his eyes gradually deepened.
Even though the old man said he missed the old Fengdu but didn’t want it to be restored, Yan could clearly see—he had deep feelings for that era.
It was like how old people in the human world reminisced about their youthful glory days.
To coax someone like that, you had to stroke their ego just right.
Yan Shixun understood both the strengths and weaknesses of the ghost official like the back of his hand. Naturally, it was easy for him—just a few well-placed words, and the old man had already forgotten his anger and was back to feeling proud of himself.
The old man tilted his head back, clearly in a good mood. He wore an expression that said he wanted to show off but was trying hard to restrain his smug grin.
“You’re now the last remaining ghost official from the old Fengdu. For the karma that’s been building up for a thousand—even several thousand—years, you’re the only one who knows the full story.”
Yan Shixun spoke solemnly. “Please, I ask you to help me. Let’s work together to stop the Ghost Dao from completely overturning the Great Dao.”
“You are the only one capable of doing it.”
The old man hadn’t expected Yan Shixun to hold him in such high regard. He stopped pacing and just stared blankly at him, as if seeing him for the first time.
Was this really the same brat who had been driving him up the wall just moments ago? That shift in tone was way too drastic!
But after a moment’s thought, the old man felt even more pleased.
What did this mean? It meant he was important! Even if this brat was usually disrespectful, always talking rudely and giving elders no courtesy, in the end, he still had to flatter him and beg for his help.
Though the old man vaguely felt that Yan Shixun’s words carried a heavy burden of responsibility—so heavy that just thinking about it made his eyes twitch—it didn’t matter.
Because the clear contrast between Yan Shixun’s earlier irreverence and his current respect made the old man feel quite flattered.
Just imagining that if he refused, he’d no longer get to see Yan Shixun’s dramatic attitude change… the old man felt oddly reluctant to turn him down.
The corners of his mouth curled upward no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. He coughed to hide his sheepishness, then forced a bold face and said, “Of course! Now you know to respect your elders, huh? Finally figured it out—this old man is impressive.”
Yan Shixun adopted a guilty, humble expression as if accepting a lecture, but the corner of his lips tugged up into a small smile as he nodded. “Then I’ll be counting on you. Right now, you’re the only one I can rely on.”
“I believe you definitely won’t let me down. Right? After all, you’re such a remarkable figure.”
The old man hunched over slightly with a guilty conscience, a bit short of breath.
But he quickly straightened up and said loudly, “Of course not! Young man, who do you think you’re looking down on?”
Yan Shixun chuckled lightly.
—How does one convince a stubborn opponent?
Affirm him. Praise him. Lift him up onto a pedestal, place him somewhere no one else can reach.
Then tell him that this is an important task that only he can accomplish. And if he fails… I’ll be very disappointed. And along with that, I’ll take back all the praise I gave him.
See? Isn’t it simple?
Yan Shixun casually lowered his gaze, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt.
With the old man’s promise, it was as if all the key information and people had now taken his side.
At this point, in the entire old Fengdu city, aside from the city itself, there were few remaining entities still aligned with the city’s consciousness.
The spiritual awareness born from the old Fengdu city could never have imagined that when it tried to trap Yan Shixun in the first level of hell, not only would he grab hold of its tail with sharp precision, but before the real battle had even begun, he would effortlessly dismantle the forces that once stood with the city.
Whether it was the vengeful spirits moved by his promise of revenge and reincarnation, or the ghost official pulled to his side by his control of the tempo—every being had a role to play.
From the evil spirits, he had learned intel about the ghost official and Li Chengyun.
And from the ghost official, he was about to uncover the truth behind old Fengdu and the whereabouts of Li Chengyun.
“I don’t know where Li Chengyun went now.”
When the old man brought up the white-robed hermit from years past, the smile on his face slowly faded and turned solemn.
“Back when old Fengdu was still intact, I was already here in this layer of hell, guarding the spirits. Later, when Fengdu fell, I barely escaped with my life and returned here. To avoid being discovered by the city’s consciousness, I never dared to leave and have been hiding here ever since.”
“Once I step into any area under its control, because of my connection to Fengdu, it can easily see through my thoughts. And if that happens, the plans and intelligence I hold in my mind would all be exposed.”
“I had no choice but to remain trapped here, guarding my secrets, seeking the truth behind that battle, and waiting for the right moment.”
Even the ghost official himself once didn’t know what exactly he was waiting for.
After bidding farewell to the Bai family ancestor, he wandered aimlessly through the southwest lands, unsure if he was trying to confirm something or simply seeking proof that old Fengdu had once existed here—just something to help him find his place again and give himself comfort.
His time as a Fengdu ghost official had lasted so long that he had forgotten who he was in life and lost all memory of his former identity. All he had left was the role of ghost official.
He had even forgotten his own name. The only meaning to his existence was tied to Fengdu.
If Fengdu existed, he was a ghost official.
If Fengdu fell… then he was nothing.
The ghost official wandered in a daze across the southwestern land, like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline, desperate to find something that could prove his identity.
But what he saw instead was land plagued with famine and corpses, ghosts wailing in despair.
All across this land, spirits who had died wandered aimlessly, blurring the lines between the world of the living and the dead into utter chaos.
When old Fengdu collapsed, many ghost officials perished in the battle against the 100,000 ghost soldiers of new Fengdu. Even more ghost officials fled the ruined city and hid themselves in the human world.
Their presence disrupted the peace and stability of the southwest.
These ghost officials who escaped from old Fengdu had stolen magical tools before fleeing. Their power far surpassed that of human exorcists, and they held a condescending disdain from their position above.
They had witnessed too much death, had grown used to the reverence and fear with which human masters begged them for help.
They still believed themselves to be Fengdu’s ghost officials—endowed with the authority and power granted by the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor—free to act without constraint in the human world.
But ghost officials, even if they held official positions, were ultimately still ghosts. They did not belong to the realm of the living.
The ghostly aura that clung to them brought sickness to the people and withered crops wherever they went. The human world couldn’t find the cause and blamed it on natural disasters.
When the southwestern masters set up rituals and altars, attempting to call upon the gods and spirits to drive out evil as they had in the past, they were horrified to discover that the situation had changed.
They could no longer summon ghost deities for aid.
Instead, they enraged the ghost officials who had fled to the human world, provoking them into attacking the people in their fury.
Even the Bai family ancestor was not spared.
Because he had once helped the ghost official and had also been saved by the master of new Fengdu, ordinary spirits and evil entities dared not approach him. As a result, the place where he resided became the most peaceful and safest area for a hundred miles around.
Many members of the Bai family, unable to survive elsewhere, migrated from their original homes to seek refuge with the Bai ancestor.
After the ghost official left, a village of Bai family gradually formed there.
The Bai family ancestor had once dealt with ghost official. The moment those malicious, life-disdaining ghost officials approached the village, he had already sensed something amiss. He lit incense before the altar, seeking help from the departing ghost official.
The ghost official traveled with unmatched speed, and one finally arrived—only after the Bai ancestor had been harmed.
What he saw then were the twisted, ferocious faces of his former comrades.
Back when he had lived in the old Fengdu, he too had been one of many ghost officials. He had no memories of life as a mortal, no resentment toward death. Like the others, he had possessed great power and therefore always looked down from above, never able to comprehend the grievances of the dead or care about the living.
But now, everything was different.
This ghost official had traversed every corner of the southwestern lands, seen enough of freshly departed souls weeping over their corpses, and could no longer bear watching loved ones collapse in grief for the dead.
He had returned to the earth, placing himself on the same level as all living beings, sharing in their suffering and sorrow.
After going through all this, when he once again looked upon his former comrades, he found their faces utterly repulsive.
The ghost officials were shouting arrogantly. There were exorcists and sect members coveting the ghost officials’ power and the spiritual artifacts they had looted from the old Fengdu. These people followed behind the ghost officials, aiding and abetting their evil.
Those who were meant to protect the living had instead become perpetrators of harm.
The exorcists who had turned traitor had no idea what had really happened. They were too far from Ye City, where the incidents had begun, and had never exchanged messages with their distant peers.
They did not know that Fengdu had changed hands, that the Great Dao had shifted, that the heavens and earth had undergone a tremendous transformation.
All they could see was the ghost officials’ strength and wealth, their eyes brimming with greed, eager to seize it for themselves.
The ghost official looked at those faces—both human and ghost—and found it laughable.
Fengdu had once maintained the balance between life and death, guarding the mortal world. And this was what it had come to.
Those colleagues who should have remained stationed between the realms of yin and yang now showed such despicable faces.
The ghost official still felt lost, uncertain of his own identity in this moment.
But he made a decision.
—No mortal, deity, or ghost knew that he had once, on a battlefield, witnessed the very instant the new Lord of Fengdu ascended to godhood.
He had seen the transformation from war general to ghost deity, had unintentionally caught a glimpse of the ghost deity’s true form.
Though it had not been his intention, to the heavens and earth, that single glance carried immense karmic weight.
Even just a fleeting look.
That glimpse alone had caused the ghost official to suffer a powerful backlash, leaving him on the brink of death. He lost all his power and collapsed at the Bai ancestor’s doorstep.
Yet it was precisely because of this that he had found a way to confront his former comrades.
He had spent long days and nights carving, attempting to recreate the image of the warrior general he had seen in that fleeting moment, and at last succeeded—immortalizing the figure from just before the god’s ascension, in wood.
Perhaps he had not clearly seen the war general’s face, but he had burned into memory the terrifying and awe-inspiring presence of someone who dared to defy the heavens and question the ghost gods.
And he managed to replicate it in his carving.
The ancient ebony, formed over thousands of years, scattered shavings under his hands as he worked. The statue bore no gentleness or compassion—its furious gaze interrogated the heavens, as sharp and unyielding as a sword that would never return to its sheath.
When the ghost official finally completed the statue, even he was stunned.
He trembled uncontrollably as he stared at the statue, not daring to show a trace of disrespect. All he wanted was to kneel before it and confess the karma of his entire life, begging for judgment.
Even though it was he who had carved the statue, he feared it so deeply that his very soul trembled.
The moment this statue emerged into the world, the heavens and earth turned their gaze toward the southwest. Every ghost official who had fled from old Fengdu was exposed before the statue and the heavens.
On a stormy night, the ebony statue opened its eyes. The blade it held gleamed with a chilling light.
The ghost officials screamed in terror, fleeing in utter panic.
But they were all intercepted within the southwest by the forces of heaven and earth, and then cut down beneath the statue’s long blade.
The war general had already been filled with wrath, questioning the Great Dao and all the ghost deties. Even the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor had died by his sword.
And what the ghost official had captured—through the medium of ebony—was that final moment when the Lord of Fengdu was still a war general.
It was rage at its peak, murderous intent shaking heaven and earth. The gods themselves were shaken and dared not stand in his way.
This statue, a mere fragment of the war general, existed for a single purpose—to slaughter all evil that disrupted the mortal world, and to protect the lives behind it.
Rain fell like the sky collapsing, swollen rivers crashing against the banks with violent force.
In the empty wilderness, only the ghost officials who had fallen mid-flight remained, their eyes wide open in death, seemingly unable to comprehend why they had perished here like ants.
The ghost official watched as his former comrades, slain by the war general, gradually turned to ash, washed away by the rain until nothing remained.
Because the ghost official had once been saved by the Bai ancestor, had personally witnessed the image of the war general and carved it into the world, he now bore a karmic bond with that war general.
Even back in the days of old Fengdu, the ghost official had always stood guard against the evil spirits of hell.
He was not one of the ghost officials responsible for combat, nor had he ever stepped into the mortal realm to imprison spirits, so he had never borne this sin.
A thunderclap roared, deafening and earth-shaking. Lightning tore across the sky, and shadows flickered chaotically within the curtain of rain.
It illuminated the furious face of the ebony statue and the knife in its hand.
The ebony statue saw the last remaining ghost official, yet turned its gaze away indifferently, sparing his life.
The ghost official, unexpectedly surviving, stood dazed in the downpour for a long while before finally realizing what had happened.
He was shaken by the ebony statue and the state of the southwest. To verify the doubts in his heart, he returned to the old Fengdu city to search for the truth.
“Young man, what do you think? Back in the day, I was quite the influential figure, you know.”
The old man sat proudly on a chair made of human bones, digging at his foot while smugly retorting, “Now you understand how important I am, right? Still trying to fool me? Don’t know what’s good for you.”
“I was the one who…”
The old man’s voice dropped suddenly, shifting from cheerful to a deep and unreadable gravity: “…killed all my fellow ghost officials, wiping out every last one in the old Fengdu.”
“The history of the old Fengdu ended completely on that stormy night.”
He laughed again, the wrinkles around his eyes bunching up into thick folds, hiding the glint in his gaze: “I became the last, the only remaining ghost official of the old Fengdu.”
Yan Shixun stood frozen in place.
He had speculated about the origin of the ebony statue. He suspected it had returned to Baizhi Lake after disappearing from Haiyun Temple. Judging from Ye Li’s reaction, it was highly likely that the statue was now hidden somewhere within the old Fengdu.
But he had never imagined that the ebony statue had been carved by the ghost official standing before him.
Even Ye Li himself had no knowledge of the statue’s existence, astonished that the image of a general from a thousand years ago had survived at all.
Because it hadn’t been left behind by any mortal exorcist.
It had been seen with the ghost official’s own eyes, and carved by his own hands.
He had nearly died for it—twice, brushing death both times.
But because of this, Yan Shixun was able to confirm something else.
The ebony statue that had suppressed the evil presence at Baizhi Lake for years had indeed been discovered by Li Chengyun.
Whether from the mouths of ghosts or ghost official, only Li Chengyun had ever appeared in the old Fengdu. In all the accounts, there was no mention of anyone else.
Entering the old Fengdu was no easy task.
Only someone with Li Chengyun’s unparalleled talent could piece together the scattered clues, find the location of the old Fengdu, and manage to enter it.
—And even persuade the last ghost official of old Fengdu to leave with him.
Yan Shixun suspected that the persistent rumors of Fengdu in the southwest over the past millennium had originated from those fleeing ghost officials.
The exorcists who had encountered those ghost officials, tempted by the magical tools in their possession, clung to the tales, which eventually evolved into legends and spread far and wide.
But whether in Ye Li’s true form or in the rumors, there was never any mention of the ebony statue.
If not for this moment—this ghost official, who had witnessed everything, personally recounting the aftermath of that ancient battle—Yan Shixun would have never known the full story behind the ebony statue.
So he guessed that the statue had been taken away by the ghost official.
One of Li Chengyun’s objectives in coming here was likely that statue.
Although Yan Shixun didn’t know how Li Chengyun had gotten the information, considering Li Chengyun’s far-reaching connections and his ability to drink and converse with people from all walks of life, even the most improbable things seemed plausible when it came to him.
Li Chengyun, acutely aware of life’s brevity, had seen and understood too much. Other than himself, it was unlikely anyone else could shoulder the responsibility.
That was why, before Yan Shixun had grown enough to inherit the burden, Li Chengyun had meticulously laid out his plans, not wasting a single second.
After learning what Li Chengyun had done back then, Yan Shixun began to understand his intentions.
He knew Li Chengyun well. Based on that understanding, he quickly deduced his master’s original plan and saw the full picture clearly.
The old man waited a long time, but didn’t hear a single word of praise from Yan Shixun. He scowled and glared at him fiercely. “You don’t have anything to ask me?”
Yan Shixun gave a polite, fake smile. “No need. Just go on, please.”
The old man looked Yan Shixun up and down, puzzled. “So indifferent? That’s not something a disciple of Li Chengyun would normally do.”
Despite having once been flattered to the point of almost losing himself—almost believing he was more important than even the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor—after experiencing the earlier events, the old man had developed a lingering suspicion of Yan Shixun. No matter how he looked at him now, the guy seemed like he was scheming something.
In the old man’s mind, Yan Shixun was the most cunning and treacherous living soul.
—Just like his master!
He had braced himself for some kind of manipulation, but instead, Yan Shixun responded with quiet restraint.
It felt like he had gathered all his strength for a mighty swing, only to hit nothing but air—he almost stumbled forward.
Under the old man’s scrutinizing gaze, Yan Shixun said calmly, “Not exactly. It’s just that everything you say is so easy to guess. You start a sentence, and I already know where it’s headed.”
He offered another polite smile. “Please continue. Don’t worry, I’m following along.”
The old man: “…………”
Damn it. He had miscalculated.
How could this be a living soul? It was clearly a terrifying monster!
In that moment, the old man was overwhelmed by a wave of fear he could not suppress.
Such a sharp and perceptive figure, and with the blessing of the Great Dao no less—able to enter and exit the tightly sealed Old Fengdu with such ease… Thank heavens he hadn’t refused the young man earlier.
If he had made an enemy of someone like this, what hope would there have been for victory?
The old man had never been so grateful for choosing the right side. Otherwise, history might have repeated itself—just like what happened a thousand years ago.
Back then, the new Lord of Fengdu had torn through the entire Old Fengdu.
If this young man were to become an enemy… he might be capable of reducing the ruins of Old Fengdu to dust.
The old man’s heart surged with turmoil, though his face remained calm, still wearing an air of pride.
He gave a cold snort and muttered a few complaints about the youngster not respecting his elders, but said nothing more.
“You already flipped through the registry in the room just now, so you should know the reason I’m here.”
The old man said calmly, “That’s right. I’m here to uncover the truth behind the fall of Old Fengdu.”
When he had returned to Old Fengdu all those years ago, the ghost official had been utterly puzzled. He couldn’t understand how that war general had defeated the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor, nor how he had earned the approval of Heaven and the Great Dao. Even the fairness of the Dao itself had leaned in the war general’s favor.
In fact, just the statue of the war general left behind had been enough to stir the heavens and attract the gaze of the Dao to the place where countless ghosts had gathered.
The ghost official didn’t believe it was simply because the war general was stronger than the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor.
Having once served Old Fengdu, he understood better than anyone the nature of Fengdu—a being born of chaos, alongside Heaven and Earth, nourished by the natural order. Independent and mighty, it had stood tall for thousands of years.
Fengdu had existed ever since the concept of death came into being.
Yet, such an eternal and unshakable force had been brought down by a mere mortal…
If he had remained in Old Fengdu all along, the ghost official might never have figured out why.
But after walking among the living and witnessing death’s sorrow everywhere he turned—after empathizing deeply with countless mortals—he had returned with a faint sense of realization.
Fengdu was strong and independent.
But it was precisely this strength that bred arrogance—the belief that the rules set by Fengdu were the will of all beings.
But was that really true?
The ghost official thought, perhaps it was the boundless resentment of countless ghosts toward death that gave rise to a war general filled with anger and vengeance.
To find the origins of the war general, the ghost official had tried every method he could, desperately gathering discarded registries while evading the residual consciousness of Old Fengdu.
When the ghost officials had fled Old Fengdu, they had only taken magical artifacts and objects of power.
As for those registries, once filled with the names of countless souls, no one had cared or managed them anymore. They had become mere scraps of paper, scattered across the ruins of Old Fengdu.
Though he hadn’t found any direct information about the war general, he had discovered records of the hundred thousand ghost soldiers who had fought on the battlefield.
All of them shared the same fate.
They had died in the same place, at the same time, for the same cause. After death, they were all registered under the same charge in Fengdu’s records.
—Those soldiers, who had followed their commander, sought revenge for the massacre of innocent civilians.
Ghosts could travel thousands of miles overnight, arriving before their enemies to complete what they hadn’t in life.
Then, those soldiers had hoped that the souls of the wrongfully slaughtered civilians might be allowed to reincarnate.
But Fengdu did not permit it.
Whether it was the soldiers’ actions seeking revenge, or the civilians’ hatred toward death, both had severely violated Fengdu’s rules and boundaries.
According to Old Fengdu’s judgment, the one hundred thousand soldiers and their commander were all vicious spirits, dangerous to the mortal realm.
They were to be imprisoned in Fengdu’s dungeon until their souls were utterly destroyed.
After reading all those old records, the ghost official felt his very spirit tremble.
Had it been in the past, he would never have understood.
But now, after witnessing the tragedies and suffering of the human world, he understood that living beings could resent death.
To die unjustly—who wouldn’t hold hatred? Who wouldn’t seek vengeance?
Who wouldn’t desire justice, even in death?
But Fengdu refused to give it.
For thousands of years before that, countless souls had howled in sorrow yet had no choice but to accept their fate, dragged into the dungeon.
Even when some souls tried to resist, they lacked the depth of obsession or the power to succeed. In the end, they all failed and were destroyed.
But this time, the Dao had changed.
The war general refused to give up. Gritting his teeth, he demanded justice from Heaven and Earth, swearing in fury that he would make the ghost gods of the Great Dao answer.
If Heaven and Earth refused to grant justice…
Then he would grant it himself!
A hundred thousand ghost soldiers raced day and night, like a furious gale of yin energy, storming into Old Fengdu and forcing the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor to appear.
When the final registry slipped from his hand, the ghost official sat dumbfounded behind his desk, staring at the names of the soldiers for a long time, speechless.
At last, he understood the true reason behind the fall of Old Fengdu.
—Because it was the will of countless souls.
Those souls, unable to seek justice themselves or challenge Heaven and Earth, had pinned all their hope and strength on the war general.
Even the faint light of fireflies, when gathered in the thousands, could shake the sun and moon!
Those who scorn life would inevitably be abandoned by it.
The Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor’s fate had come to an end.
And Fengdu had acknowledged the path of the war general, recognizing him as the new master.
When he finally understood everything, the ghost official could only let out a bitter laugh.
He laughed at his own arrogant ignorance.
Living in the ghost city, he had actually believed himself to be akin to heaven and earth. His colleagues even trampled on life without a second thought…
How could there have ever been a chance of victory?
It was at that moment that the ghost official heard someone knock on his door.
The man outside stood tall and graceful like a pine tree among clouds, clad in flowing white, smiling warmly as he asked, “You’ve been a coward hiding in your shell for hundreds of years. Isn’t it time to stop?”
“The Ghost Dao will soon be born. Calamity is on the rise. Will you walk with me?”
The ghost official’s anger hadn’t even had time to ignite before it was extinguished like a basin of cold water poured over him.
He turned his head, stunned, staring at the man in disbelief. He couldn’t fathom why a living soul would appear in the old Fengdu.
But after just witnessing such upheaval, only one possibility came to the ghost official’s mind.
—This too was ordained by heaven and earth, silently permitted by the Great Dao.
And so, as if compelled by fate, he stood up and answered the man, “Alright.”
The ghost official hadn’t expected that one word, that single agreement, would cost him all of his life and energy.
Even after the man died and his soul became a ghost, he still kept the promise they had made. He continued carrying out the unfinished plan, waiting for the Ghost Dao’s arrival on that man’s behalf.
“So, I’m telling you—your master, that guy, he was truly a bastard.”
The old man smacked his lips and grumbled with discontent, “How could someone be so good at ordering others around? I was a dignified ghost official of Fengdu, and he treated me like a tool to summon and dismiss at will!”
“What did he take me for? He left me stuck here all these years—I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to!”
The old man’s face was full of disdain and complaints.
But Yan Shixun couldn’t help wanting to laugh as he listened.
A once-proud ghost official of Fengdu—even if he had fallen from grace—was still far stronger than ordinary exorcists. What’s more, he held the upper hand as a native of the old Fengdu. The city itself had awakened spiritual consciousness. Even if the ghost official couldn’t win a fight, a single shout could summon the city’s will to crush any living soul.
If the old man had truly not wanted to help Li Chengyun, he had many ways to avoid it.
But instead, he had exhausted his mind and efforts to help him.
Even after Li Chengyun’s death, he had continued walking the path they had agreed upon long ago.
There were no walls in hell. If the old man had really wanted to leave, he could have done so anytime.
After all, he had lived in old Fengdu for a thousand years. It wouldn’t have been impossible for him to deceive the city’s consciousness if he tried.
Though he complained constantly, the deeds he had committed over the millennia were the exact opposite of his words.
Yan Shixun tilted his head, leaned back in a relaxed posture, his arms resting naturally on the bone-carved armrests.
To truly see someone, don’t listen to what they say.
Look at what they’ve always done.
—Especially what they risked everything—time and life—for.
That was the real truth about them.
“Old man,”
Yan Shixun suddenly interrupted the old man’s rant with a smile.
As the old man turned to him, he gently said, “You’re no longer the ghost official of Fengdu.”
The old man, “…You brat, must you poke where it hurts?”
Did this kid really care that much about him losing his official title? Bringing it up again and again—did he think he’d be bothered by it? Hmph!
“That ebony statue once appeared in the mortal world.”
Before the old man could get annoyed, Yan Shixun quickly shifted the topic, speaking calmly, “And it didn’t appear in the southwest. It went somewhere else entirely.”
At first, the old man seemed not to understand what Yan Shixun was saying. His eyes were still filled with confusion.
But once he processed the words, his eyes slowly widened in shock.
“What?!”
The old man roared in fury, “Who did it?! I knew it! I just knew it! With that statue in place, things shouldn’t have moved this quickly!”
“Li Chengyun’s plan was flawless—the most meticulous I’ve ever seen in my life. As long as his plan wasn’t tampered with and kept being executed, the Ghost Dao would never have had a chance to be born. Before that could happen, the Great Dao would have already recovered its former strength, and the Ghost Dao would no longer be a threat.”
His face was filled with killing intent and cold resentment.
Only now did he reveal the side of him that had once held the title of ghost official.
Many years ago, when he and Li Chengyun had laid out their original plan, their goal had been to delay the birth of the Ghost Dao for as long as possible, giving the Great Dao enough time to recover and find a powerful successor to carry its waning flame.
Although Li Chengyun usually appeared indifferent to everything, carrying himself with the ease of a reclusive wanderer, his meticulous mind was unmatched.
It was only Yan Shixun, after growing up, who surpassed him many years later, proving that the student could outshine the master.
From the moment he calculated a slim chance of survival over a decade ago, and encountered Yan Shixun at the marketplace, Li Chengyun had already begun laying out his grand strategy for the world.
The ebony statue preserved in the old Fengdu was the final and most crucial step in his entire plan.
Though the strategy was to delay things as long as possible, from the power the ebony statue possessed, as long as the ghost deity who served as the original template for the ghost official back then was not truly dead, the power of the statue would never vanish.
Even if it took hundreds or thousands of years, it could endure.
As long as the Great Dao had not completely collapsed, then no matter how faint it became, it was still the Great Dao.
There was still a chance for survival.
Li Chengyun had planned thoroughly.
But the one thing he failed to predict was the will of the Great Dao itself.
It did not wish to barely survive in misery.
To cling to life with only one last breath—that was a rat in the gutter, not the Great Dao.
It wanted… to return to the power it once held.
So, when Yan Shixun grew strong enough to contend with heaven, earth, ghosts, and deities—and when the Lord of Fengdu changed his mind and became willing to uphold the Great Dao—the Dao itself began to take action.
The ebony statue that had been guarding the evil at Baizhi Lake, as well as the forgotten ruins of old Fengdu beneath the lake, was taken by a young student who happened to pass by while sightseeing at Baizhi Lake.
The evil at the lake retaliated, the ghost infant, consumed by rage, sought revenge, and all the ghosts and yin energy in the southwest began to converge upon Baizhi Lake, now the eye of the storm.
Old Fengdu, believing it had seized the perfect opportunity to rise, began to stir restlessly.
The ghostly energy overwhelmed the ghost infant’s entire consciousness, twisting her original will, making her forget the days when she had once been treasured and loved as a living child. Now, her heart was filled with nothing but hatred and vengeance.
As the ghost infant’s power increased, the forces of old Fengdu also invaded her, imposing their own will, making her believe that it was her own desire to overthrow the Great Dao.
Zheng Shumu and Master Bai, moved by guilt, assisted the ghost infant in hiding her from the Dao’s awareness.
But the Dao watched all of this coldly and silently.
Heaven and earth are ruthless, treating all beings as straw dogs.
To the Great Dao, even the Dao itself was something that could be used as a tool.
It felt itself growing weaker day by day, bore with the chaos in the southwest, and quietly waited for the moment when all the conditions would be ripe.
Then, the catastrophe would erupt in full.
Only then would the Great Dao have a chance to act swiftly and decisively, cutting off all future troubles, leaving no trace behind.
Yan Shixun slightly lifted his head and looked at the furious ghost official. Suddenly, as if a light had gone on in his mind, everything became clear to him.
Thousands of years of cause and effect had already piled up to a critical threshold.
Although ordinary people could not sense such slow and subtle changes, the Great Dao saw it clearly.
The Dao knew that if it continued to tolerate and endure this chaos, the day would come when everything would be beyond salvation.
By that time, all living beings would be annihilated.
There was only one solution.
Through disaster, purge all the filth and karmic entanglements accumulated over thousands of years, and completely cleanse the mortal world.
For this purpose, a thousand years ago, Fengdu—the origin of death—fell at the hands of Ye Li. A new Fengdu rose from the ground to rejudge death.
That was when Heaven and Earth officially began their great game of chess.
The ones moving the pieces: one was Ye Li, the other, Heaven and Earth itself.
Their ultimate goal, though reached by different paths, was the same.
—For the sake of all living beings.
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