Chapter 291: Ritual Money, Old Capital (18)
Many cultivators spent their entire lives without ever touching the edge of the Great Dao.
Yet in the hellscape of the old Fengdu, where corpses piled into mountains, Yan Shixun suddenly comprehended the true essence of the Great Dao.
Never before had he experienced a moment like this—where he so thoroughly grasped both the cruelty and the gentleness of the Dao.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His soul trembled as if it were drifting upward from his body. When he looked down, he saw an expansive land stretching beneath him.
On this magnificent land of soaring mountains and surging rivers, Yan Shixun saw scattered points of bright light—some gathered, some dispersed—each beautiful in its own way. But what was more abundant were clouds of dark mist, like ancient filth, marring the breathtaking scene.
He frowned slightly, not quite understanding what he was seeing at first, until a vague memory surfaced—the sensation of leaping into the sky felt oddly familiar.
When Ye Li had once lent him divine power, he had felt something similarly mystical, as if he had merged with the heavens and the earth.
Then now…
Yan Shixun’s expression froze. After blinking, he was startled to realize that perhaps everything he was seeing now was the perspective the Great Dao used to observe the mortal world.
If the Great Dao could see him, then these clusters of light and shadow… were they virtues and sins?
Just as that thought emerged in Yan Shixun’s mind, he instantly had the uncanny feeling that someone was affirming his guess.
There was only the sound of the wind in his ears, only the land in his eyes, but somehow Yan Shixun felt that at this very moment, something—or someone—stood beside him, patiently showing him the human world.
Whether it was a living person or an evil spirit, as long as they could manage to scrape by, it seemed one could resign themselves and stop striving for more.
Just like thousands of years ago, when those ghostly souls in the old Fengdu bowed their heads under pressure and accepted their fate.
But if one could reduce the weight of sin by one measure today, then by two measures tomorrow—then that was progress. The spark of life wasn’t a business deal; there was no bargaining. Once that spark was smothered by sin, it was hard to rekindle.
The Great Dao saw all clearly. It sighed anxiously at the ignorance of humans who didn’t resist, yet it could do nothing. All it could do was try, for the sake of the future—when the world might fall into its darkest time—to fight for a sliver of hope.
When all karma was finally cleared away, and that sliver of life was used as a thread to guide the way, the world would return to its original state.
From the depths of decline, prosperity would emerge. Life would flourish again.
Yan Shixun felt as though someone gentle and patient was standing beside him at that moment, guiding him to look upon the world, teaching him hand-in-hand how to witness the vast tides and storms of the past millennia.
It was as if… at this very moment, he and the Great Dao coexisted nine thousand miles above, beyond the Five Elements and the Three Realms, calmly watching the myriad beings of the world from an outsider’s perspective.
And in that moment, all his past doubts were resolved.
From the moment Ye Li decided to fight for the ghosts, the Great Dao had already taken notice of him.
In matters concerning Fengdu, the Great Dao could not intervene.
But when Ye Li truly defeated the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor, he was already seated at the game board, becoming one of only two players in this cosmic chess match.
As for the Ghost Dao—it may have posed a terrifying threat to the Great Dao, but it still had no right to be a player in this game.
The Great Dao was choosing a new pillar for the world after its great reset.
And the one it had chosen was Ye Li.
“Kid? Kid?”
An old man looked puzzled at Yan Shixun, whose eyes were vacant. He cautiously walked up and waved his hand in front of him, trying to see if he’d react.
That call pulled Yan Shixun back.
His soul plummeted swiftly from the sky and returned to his body. Everything he had just seen vanished entirely, and the world returned to normal.
His long fingers, resting on the armrest, trembled slightly as clarity returned to his eyes.
Yet just before his soul had returned, in that mysterious state, he seemed to hear someone laughing, and felt a pair of gentle eyes deeply watching him—then turning away and disappearing.
Yan Shixun frowned and slightly turned his head, instinctively glancing to both sides. It wasn’t until he saw the cramped, narrow room piled high with books that he suddenly realized he had returned. He was now in the home of the ghost official.
“What wicked idea are you up to again, you scheming little brat…”
The old man was startled by the sudden gleam returning to Yan Shixun’s eyes. He felt a guilty jolt in his heart and instinctively took several steps back, as if he had been caught doing something wrong.
A few moments later, he remembered that he hadn’t done anything at all—it was Yan Shixun who had been spacing out! So why was he the one feeling guilty?
The old man suspiciously looked Yan Shixun up and down, muttering a few complaints to cover his own unease.
“No, I was just shocked by the truth you told me earlier.”
Yan Shixun quickly regained his composure. He steadied his emotions after the overwhelming feeling he had just experienced from communing with the heavens and earth. After calming himself, he nodded politely to the old man. “Thank you, for guarding the balance of yin and yang together with my master.”
But this time, the old man was more experienced.
He eyed Yan Shixun warily, unmoved by the compliment. Instead of responding with pleasure, he simply stared at Yan Shixun, waiting to see what else he had to say.
“However,”
Yan Shixun paused, then continued, “What we can confirm now is that the ebony statue was taken from Baizhi Lake. It changed hands several times in the human world, and its current whereabouts are unknown.”
“Based on the clues we’ve gathered so far, the most I can do is narrow down its possible location to the ruins of the old Fengdu city.”
“But where exactly it is—I don’t know.”
Yan Shixun furrowed his brows and looked at the old man with sincere eyes. “Based on your understanding of old Fengdu and the ebony statue, where do you think it might show up?”
Just as he suspected—this kid couldn’t have sincerely praised him without a reason. There had to be more coming.
Only now did the old man truly look pleased. He stroked his chin in thought for a moment before speaking hesitantly, “After Li Chengyun died, I feared that old Fengdu might discover the plan hidden in my mind, so to be cautious, I’ve never left this place since.”
Because the plan he and Li Chengyun had crafted was of great importance—and directly targeted old Fengdu—he had stopped sneaking out in disguise to search for books and instead had chosen to guard the underworld steadfastly, determined not to give Fengdu any chance to discover his existence.
After all, he was plotting against old Fengdu right under its nose. He didn’t need to think twice to know what would happen if he were found out.
He wasn’t afraid of death—he had been meant to die a thousand years ago and had only lived on borrowed time.
But what he feared more than death was failing to fulfill the plan Li Chengyun had entrusted to him before dying.
If the plan failed because of him, that pain would be worse than death—akin to falling into the endless Avici Hell.
Even the loss of the ebony statue, which was originally supposed to guard Baizhi Lake, was something he had only learned from Yan Shixun. His access to outside information had greatly diminished.
However, the old man had another identity.
—He was the only person alive who had seen the ghost deity ascend to the rank of general and had personally carved the statue. No one understood that statue better than he did.
The old man seemed to think of something. His expression gradually turned solemn.
“Although I’m not clear about the current situation outside, based on how that statue acts, I do know a few places where it might appear.”
Yan Shixun raised an eyebrow, recalling the stunned expression on Ye Li’s face when he had mentioned the ebony statue back in the Bai family village.
Ye Li had no idea the statue even existed. To him, the incident where he had casually saved the Bai family’s ancestor likely hadn’t left any impression at all—let alone anything involving a ghost official.
Yet when they finally peeled back all the layers of truth, it turned out that Ye Li himself had unintentionally caused the statue’s reappearance in the world.
Such was fate—every cause had its effect.
Thinking back now to Ye Li’s expression at the time, Yan Shixun couldn’t help but laugh a little to himself.
…That man had looked like he had just been whacked on the head by a cat—completely stunned. He had even looked a little cute.
The old man had been speaking, but suddenly fell silent.
He noticed that something felt off about the atmosphere in the room—like spring flowers blooming in the middle of something entirely unrelated. When he looked around for the source, he saw Yan Shixun sitting there, smiling to himself for no apparent reason.
The old man stared at Yan Shixun with deadpan eyes, unable to guess what wicked scheme this kid was thinking of now.
Sensing the old man’s gaze, Yan Shixun cleared his throat and straightened his expression. “Please continue. I’m listening.”
“So, according to you, the ebony statue not only has a will of its own, but can also move on its own… In other words, it’s mobile, and we can’t precisely track its location.”
The old man nodded. “That’s right.”
“Although I carved the statue based on the former appearance of Fengdu’s ruler, what I saw at that moment happened to be at the critical point of transformation—just as he ascended from man to deity. His power as a general had just reached its peak.”
“Rather than say it represents the ruler of Fengdu, it’s more accurate to say the statue is an independent entity. It embodies the will of that general, the one who was so utterly devoted.”
The old man lowered his gaze to the scroll of names spread out on the table and said calmly, “His deepest obsession was the destruction of all evil forces that bring suffering to the human world.”
“In other words…”
A flash of realization crossed Yan Shixun’s eyes, and he suddenly stood up from his chair. “It would appear in the place within old Fengdu where the ghostly energy is the strongest.”
The old man nodded. “That’s a fair conclusion.”
“There are three places in old Fengdu where the ghost energy is the most concentrated.”
He extended three withered fingers, staring straight at Yan Shixun as he enunciated every word: “First, there’s the divine altar of the former Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor. It was the very core of the old Fengdu itself. But getting close to it… is nearly impossible.”
“As for the ebony statue, it won’t be easy either. That place is where the city’s consciousness was born. It will surely guard its location with extreme vigilance. Whether human, ghost, or god—anyone who comes close will be detected.”
One of the old man’s outstretched fingers folded down.
“The second place is the deepest level of hell, where the most heinous, unforgivable evil spirits are imprisoned. Anyone who falls into it is beyond saving—there’s only one outcome: complete annihilation.”
“Young man, I admit you’re the most capable person I’ve ever seen, even stronger than your master, Li Chengyun. But I advise you not to rashly head to the deepest level. If you do, even I won’t be able to save you. All I could do next year is light incense for you during meal offerings.”
“Lastly…”
The old man flicked his hand and pointed outside the window to the mass grave: “Here.”
Yan Shixun furrowed his brows, confused.
The first two places made perfect sense to him. But the mass grave… It lay in the middle level of hell—not as steeped in sin as the lowest level, yet not teeming with spirits like the upper levels.
Why, then, would such a place have the densest concentration of ghostly energy?
The old man saw the confusion in Yan Shixun’s eyes and gave a brief laugh. “Since you know that the ebony statue guarding Baizhi Lake is missing, you must’ve been to the village near the lake.”
“There, a ghost infant was born. And this place is closely connected to the karmic fate of that ghost infant. For the old Fengdu, all those the ghost infant hated in life were destined to fall into this layer of hell after death. Moreover, the old Fengdu used the ghost infant as its cover—trying to act in secret before the Great Dao discovered its movements, building up power in the shadows.”
By the time the old man finished, understanding dawned on Yan Shixun.
The Ghost Dao was like a treacherous minister plotting a coup, unable to bear its oppression and eager to seize power.
But a coup had to be swift and decisive—one strike to succeed.
So the old Fengdu used the ghost infant as a distraction. All the power the ghost infant accumulated ultimately converged on this particular layer of hell, closely tied to her, but without alerting the Great Dao.
Yan Shixun thought back to the corpses of Zheng Shumu and the other villagers he had seen on the mass grave.
He frowned in sorrow. “Is there really no way to move the ghost infant’s brother to a different place?”
To have hated someone in life, only to be trapped with them in death… Zheng Shumu’s current state felt unbearably unjust.
The old man shook his head regretfully. “Though I understand your sentiment, unfortunately, it’s not possible.”
“His connection to the ghost infant destined him to remain here—unless the old Fengdu collapses.”
“This is also how the old Fengdu is reinforcing itself.”
When speaking of death, the old man’s tone remained calm. “Just wait—you’ll see. More people connected to the ghost infant will die and fall into this layer of hell, becoming the nutrients the old Fengdu hoards.”
“Young man, if you want to stop the Ghost Dao, then you need to hurry and find the ebony statue.”
The old man shook his head again, filled with regret. “Though I hate to admit it, Li Chengyun was right about one thing: the future belongs to the young, not to someone like me who has lived for thousands of years. The only solution I can think of now is to find the statue and let it confront the old Fengdu.”
“If you have your own ideas, go ahead and try them—but I can no longer help you.”
Yan Shixun listened in silence. Then suddenly, something in the old man’s words caught his attention: “Wait!”
“You said… more people will die?”
The old man looked at him, puzzled by his sudden agitation.
He pointed toward the fresh corpse mound outside the window. “What’s the issue? Look, that’s it.”
As a ghost officer of the old Fengdu, the old man did protect the living—but his concern lay with humanity as a whole.
As long as the balance of yin and yang was maintained and the continuation of the living race ensured, he cared little for the fate of individuals.
Unlike Yan Shixun, an exorcist, the old man’s gentleness toward the living stemmed from a colder, more detached ideology.
Yan Shixun’s eyes widened slightly. A realization struck him as he followed the direction the old man pointed in.
Earlier, he had already sensed something off about that particular mound of corpses compared to the others.
Now, with the old man’s explanation, his mind cleared, and he finally understood what had felt so wrong.
That mound of corpses was too fresh and too loose.
Just like cement settles or grain stacks compress over time—when heavy things are piled long enough, they sink and become compact, forming a denser mass.
But not this one.
It had only just been piled up. The bodies hadn’t even begun to decompose. There were still gaps between each corpse.
At the time, Yan Shixun had noticed it—but not knowing the old man’s background, he hadn’t dared to ask.
Now, with nothing obstructing the view in front of that mountain of corpses, Yan Shixun could clearly see its true form.
And…
The pile of bodies, scattered and stacked haphazardly beneath it.
Among them, Yan Shixun spotted clothing that looked familiar.
What first caught his eye was the edge of a Taoist robe protruding from the corpses.
There were differences in style and color among Taoist robes, and that particular corner looked unmistakably like the kind commonly worn at Haiyun Temple.
A sense of dread flashed across his heart. He immediately stood up and strode quickly toward the corpse mountain outside. Under the old man’s puzzled gaze, he began to move the corpses one by one with his bare hands.
He saw Taoist robes from Haiyun Temple, rescue team uniforms, the official in charge’s government-issued suit and dress shirt, vests bearing the logo of the “Heart-Pounding Journey of Ninety-Nine Days” production team…
More and more familiar clothing styles appeared before his eyes.
And then came the faces—each and every one of them familiar.
Whether it was the Taoists from Haiyun Temple, the members of the rescue team, or the guests and staff from the program team.
Not only were the missing members of the production crew among them, even Lu Xingxing and the others, whom Yan Shixun had personally escorted out of the Bai family village moments ago, were there.
It was as if everyone who had been in the Baizhi Lake area… had already died.
And their souls had ended up here.
In that instant, Yan Shixun forgot to breathe. His eyes trembled and shattered with emotion. His slender hands couldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t even lift them immediately to check their conditions.
The corpses had originally been tossed around in a mess, carelessly piled into a high mound.
Yan Shixun turned them over, revealing face after pale, bloodless face.
These people were covered in injuries—some with deep slashes across their throats, some with stab wounds piercing their hearts, others with gaping holes in their chests…
Blood drenched them; exposed bones were grotesque and terrifying.
What kind of experience was this?
One moment, someone was alive before your eyes—vivid and breathing—and the next time you looked, they had already become a cold corpse, dying in an unimaginably brutal way.
Everyone you knew, everyone you had contact with—dead.
Leaving only yourself standing there, staring at their bodies, without even knowing how they had died.
Even someone as calm and composed as Yan Shixun couldn’t make sense of anything in that moment. His thoughts were a chaotic tangle.
This shouldn’t have happened. How could it be? He had clearly seen Lu Xingxing and the others leave with his own eyes. The official in charge had been with him all along, and only got separated when they fell into the lower levels of hell.
How could they be dead?
According to what the official in charge had said, Haiyun Temple had dispatched their most powerful Taoists to assist at Baizhi Lake.
With a dozen Taoists there, no matter how terrifying the evil spirit, it shouldn’t have ended in complete annihilation like this. Even the program crew’s staff didn’t manage to escape?
Countless guesses flooded Yan Shixun’s mind, but there wasn’t a single piece of evidence to support any of them.
He stumbled back a step. The calm and composed expression he always wore finally cracked. Covering his forehead, he let out a pained groan, unable to accept what he was seeing.
In all his years as an exorcist, Yan Shixun had never failed a mission—not once. Let alone being the cause of such a massive death toll.
He couldn’t understand. There shouldn’t have been anything wrong with his plan.
The staff from the show had two Taoists with them. The other rescue team members should’ve met up with the Taoists sent later. Even Lu Xingxing and the others had Nan Tian and the rescue team accompanying them.
How could this have happened…?
As Yan Shixun was consumed by pain and confusion, more corpses began appearing out of thin air, landing atop the mound.
When he looked over, the familiar uniforms stabbed into his eyes like needles.
Yan Shixun felt as though a massive mountain had collapsed onto his chest, suffocating him completely.
The old man noticed something was wrong with Yan Shixun. He had no idea what was happening but quickly ran over to ask.
When he saw the corpses, the old man’s reaction remained calm and detached. He didn’t seem to think much of it.
After all, he had long been responsible for guarding hell. Back before Fengdu had changed hands, countless souls fell into this place every moment of every day. Death had become such a routine part of existence that it no longer carried any weight.
Who lived or died—he didn’t care.
Besides, he didn’t know any of these people.
But when Yan Shixun was stricken with such deep pain, the nature of the matter shifted entirely.
To the old man, this had suddenly transformed from just another routine occurrence… into something important—something that now involved him.
This brat had just tricked him a moment ago—so convincingly that he was left stunned—so why was he acting like this now? This wasn’t like him at all.
The old man muttered to himself with suspicion.
But once he heard the reason from Yan Shixun, his expression grew serious.
“You’re saying all of these people are now gathered at Baizhi Lake?”
The old man asked in disbelief, needing confirmation. “Every single one of them?”
“Yes.”
Yan Shixun nodded. “I know them. I’ve seen most of their faces before. Even if I haven’t met a few of them personally, I recognize their uniforms and know where they’re from.”
Haiyun Temple had always been busy year-round. Strange incidents that couldn’t be resolved locally would eventually get redirected to Haiyun Temple, where the tasks were then distributed to the Taoists.
But in this day and age, there were few cultivators, and even fewer who truly walked the path of cultivation.
Whether it was Haiyun Temple or other sects, they were all facing a severe shortage of personnel. Even for a leading Taoist temple like Haiyun Temple, there were only a few dozen Taoists reliable enough to be sent out alone to handle matters independently.
As the Great Dao weakened and the balance between yin and yang unraveled, ghosts and monsters gradually began to rise. More and more often, there were reports of ordinary people being harassed—or even endangered—by these beings.
With cases increasing and manpower declining, everyone had been working overtime with barely any rest.
The Taoists of Haiyun Temple had been traveling across the land for years, rarely all gathered in one place.
Many of the Taoists present now were unfamiliar to Yan Shixun; he recognized them only by their robes.
Yet even in the chaos of his thoughts, he could still see—just from these unfamiliar faces—how seriously Haiyun Temple was taking this incident.
It happened to be a festival period, so many Taoists had returned to Haiyun Temple to participate in important rituals.
Because of this, the temple had more manpower at its disposal than usual.
Though no one wanted disaster to strike, if it had to happen, it was better it happened now than at a time when resources were stretched even thinner.
Yan Shixun guessed that Haiyun Temple had sent nearly everyone they could spare.
However, he didn’t see Taoist Song Yi here.
Taoist Song Yi wasn’t the kind to shy away from a crisis, and Haiyun Temple wasn’t the type to hold back their strength when facing a major situation.
That left only one possibility.
—Taoist Song Yi was handling another incident just as critical as the one at Baizhi Lake.
And for Haiyun Temple to treat something with equal gravity, at a time like this, there was only one explanation that came to Yan Shixun’s mind:
—Ghost Dao.
It seemed Haiyun Temple had discovered it too.
Ghost Dao was linked to the Ghost Infant. If anything else could rival the magnitude of Baizhi Lake, it would be a pivotal moment for the Ghost Infant.
Like the warehouse where Xie Jiaojiao had been kidnapped decades ago.
Taoist Song Yi was probably at that warehouse, in the outskirts of Binhai City.
Had Ghost Dao already spread to Binhai City? Then the people outside Baizhi Lake were also in danger—that must be why Haiyun Temple was reacting like this.
Yan Shixun was deeply shaken by the deaths of so many people, but even so, after a few turns of thought, he managed to piece together everything—despite not knowing the full situation outside.
The old man, who usually didn’t care much about the deaths of strangers, also realized the gravity of the situation. He scratched his leg, crouched down, and began to examine the bodies one by one.
He hadn’t gone through many when his previously furrowed brow suddenly relaxed.
“Ah, pfft! And here I thought something terrible had happened. Almost scared me to death.”
The old man muttered angrily, “If everyone at Baizhi Lake really had died, that would mean Ghost Dao had already expanded beyond the point of no return. At that point, talking about anything else would be meaningless.”
Hearing the deeper implication in the old man’s words, Yan Shixun froze for a moment.
He lowered the hand that had been covering his forehead, his gaze steady as he looked at the old man. “You mean… these people aren’t dead?”
“That’s right.”
The old man nodded. “It can fool idiots, but it can’t fool me. After watching over ghosts for thousands of years, you think I can’t tell whether something’s human or not?”
He casually grabbed one of the “corpses” and, with a wiry arm full of tension, lifted it high and then slammed it hard onto the ground.
Bang! The body shattered into dozens of pieces.
But it didn’t look like flesh and blood.
It looked… like wood.
Yan Shixun frowned and looked closely. Then it suddenly hit him. “Bone substitution technique!”
“Exactly that.”
The old man cracked his knuckles and let out a long breath, grimacing. “Don’t worry, these people didn’t even get the chance to die. Ghost Dao just used this to fake their deaths and force another entity to reveal itself.”
The old man looked at Yan Shixun and said flatly, “Kid, you don’t need to worry. These people are still alive and well. Ever heard of ‘living-mouthed, living-eyed wooden statues’? It was used in the southwest to substitute for corpses of the dead—looks like Ghost Dao’s using it again to fake ghostly presences.”
“Ghost Dao can invert the identities of ghosts and humans. So to it, these wood carvings are people—but to you, they’re just wooden dolls.”
“You still have time to save them.”
The old man lifted his head and met Yan Shixun’s eyes. “As long as you can stop Ghost Dao before it fully succeeds, these people won’t die. Stop worrying about what happens after death, kid—what matters now is the present.”
“What does Ghost Dao want to force out with this?”
Yan Shixun muttered, but then a look of surprise flashed across his face as he blurted out, “The ebony statue?”
The old man, “…Couldn’t you at least wait until I said it? It’s frustrating when someone cuts in halfway and finishes your line!”
Couldn’t they let him have his moment for once?
He had wanted to act cool in front of Li Chengyun for a long time, hoping to see admiration in Li Chengyun’s eyes. Unfortunately, he never got the chance—Li Chengyun had already passed away.
Now, finally, he had come across one of Li Chengyun’s disciples—if he couldn’t impress the master, doing it in front of the disciple would work just as well!
Why did both master and disciple have the same flaw—never giving others a chance?
The old man huffed and rolled his eyes in frustration.
Yan Shixun smiled bitterly. “Your image in my heart is already extremely impressive—there’s no need to prove anything this time.”
Upon learning that those people weren’t actually dead—that it was only their wooden effigies that had been destroyed—Yan Shixun had immediately calmed down. He swiftly regained his terrifyingly sharp and restrained rationality.
His mind was spinning rapidly, and within a few breaths, he had already grasped the situation.
“This place has always been tied to the karmic consequences of the ghost infant, so the Ghost Dao used substitute deaths for everyone who appeared at Baizhi Lake, and tossed them into this place.”
Yan Shixun added in a low voice, “You mentioned earlier that the ebony statue would appear where ghost energy is heaviest. That means…”
What the Ghost Dao wanted to force out—was the ebony statue.
And from the current situation, it seemed likely that the Ghost Dao would get what it wanted.
The old man nodded, affirming Yan Shixun’s deduction. “The other two locations are far too crucial to the old Fengdu. Whether it’s the former divine altar of the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor or the lowest level of hell, both touch the core of the old Fengdu. If a real battle broke out and either of those places was destroyed, it would be an unbearable blow to the old Fengdu.”
“Now, the Ghost Dao is being carried by the old Fengdu—it won’t allow itself to suffer such a wound. Even the possibility must be eliminated entirely.”
“So, compared to the other two, this place became the most suitable battlefield. For the Ghost Dao, it must strike first. Only by luring the ebony statue here and forcing it to appear can it have any chance of destroying the statue before it’s harmed by it.”
The old man looked up, eyes narrowing as he gazed at the endless mountains of corpses. “I overlooked this point… I’ve been cut off from the outside world for too long. While it kept the old Fengdu from finding me, it also dulled my judgment.”
“I actually let the Ghost Dao build up such a massive supply of replacement bones right under my nose.”
If Yan Shixun hadn’t mentioned that all those people were now gathered at Baizhi Lake, the old man wouldn’t have realized the problem. He’d probably still be happily picking at his toes.
Until the Ghost Dao launched its full-scale assault, fully prepared.
At that point, he’d stand no chance of winning.
“But now… it’s already a bit too late. The ebony statue has probably already been drawn here by the ghost energy, and the Ghost Dao will undoubtedly notice this place. You—”
Yan Shixun raised his eyes solemnly to look at the old man.
But before he could finish his sentence, he abruptly stopped.
He was stunned to see a calm smile appear on the old man’s face.
As if everything had already been decided, and the old man had found peace with no more regrets.
The old man turned to look back at Yan Shixun, his eyes gentle and filled with reminiscence.
“Back then, Li Chengyun and I stood just like this, at the edge of a mountain of corpses, making a vow before the countless dead.”
The old man sighed. “Even now, I still don’t understand how someone like Li Chengyun could have existed. If he had sought fame and fortune, he would’ve surely left a glorious mark in the annals of the living. But instead, he came to a place no one knew about.”
“…He died gloriously, yet in complete silence.”
“No one knows what unprecedented things he did. No one will write books or sing praises to commemorate what he did for the world of the living. But he never cared. Ha! That guy—he lived like an immortal.”
The old man chuckled softly.
Though his words sounded full of complaint, the tenderness and admiration in his tone couldn’t be hidden.
“It’s just a shame… he died too soon. And now, it’s my turn.”
The old man looked calmly at Yan Shixun and solemnly entrusted him, “Young one, you are Li Chengyun’s disciple. I’ve told you everything I know. Don’t let me or your master down.”
“The Ghost Dao is now your responsibility.”
Yan Shixun listened to the old man’s final words, and an overwhelming sense of unease welled up in his chest.
His heart trembled, and he asked in disbelief, “You…”
But the old man didn’t give him the chance to ask anything.
He simply smiled faintly at Yan Shixun, then slowly raised his hands and placed them on either side of his neck.
The next moment, his palms tightened with force.
Crack! A crisp sound rang out, and the old man’s head slumped down softly.
His neck—was broken.
The last ghost official of the old Fengdu had chosen to end his own life.
There was still a peaceful, satisfied smile on the old man’s face as he collapsed weakly to the ground.
“Bang—!”
The moment the old man’s body collapsed to the ground, an intense fire suddenly ignited from his body, instantly engulfing him in flames.
The fierce blaze quickly charred his flesh, peeling it back and splitting his bones apart.
In an instant, the old man who had once been proud and arrogant was reduced to nothing but a pile of ashes.
They scattered gently with the wind.
Yan Shixun, who had witnessed the entire process, didn’t even have a chance to stop him or ask anything. He could only watch helplessly as the old man took his own life—his soul completely disintegrated, vanishing into the depths of Hell.
From that moment on, the old man’s soul no longer existed. Everything he had ever known as a ghost official was taken with him. All secrets and plans were reduced to ashes.
He left no chance for anyone to investigate or uncover anything.
Yan Shixun’s eyes trembled violently, his gaze shattering with waves of emotion. He remained dazed and speechless for a long time.
The moment the old man chose to burn his soul, Yan finally realized what the man had been trying to do.
The Ghost Dao wanted to use this place as the battlefield to destroy the ebony statue—by gathering a massive amount of ghostly energy from souls connected with the evil spirit at Baizhi Lake, particularly those with karmic ties to the ghost infant, to lure the statue out.
The ebony statue had once been borrowed by Li Chengyun from the old man to suppress the evil at Baizhi Lake. As a result, the statue was extremely sensitive to the aura of such spirits.
It was bound to be drawn to this place by the ghostly energy.
However, once the statue appeared, the Ghost Dao and the old Fengdu City would inevitably turn their gaze here.
At that point, the old man, who had remained hidden all this time, would be exposed before the eyes of old Fengdu City.
—According to the old man, due to his former affiliation with old Fengdu, everything recorded in his soul would be laid bare before them.
So, when old Fengdu appeared here, it would mark the moment their plan—his and Li Chengyun’s—would be fully revealed.
There was no way the old man would let that happen.
To protect the secret, he had endured in silence for years, staying rooted in place without ever stepping outside.
There was no chance he would allow everything to fall apart at the final moment because of him.
The only thing that brought him solace was that Li Chengyun’s disciple had found this place—and the boy had been so good at coaxing the truth out of him that he ended up spilling everything from the bottom of his heart.
In a way, he had given his last will and testament ahead of time.
Satisfied, the old man chose to end his life, preserving the entire plan.
But…
Yan Shixun instinctively stepped forward, reaching toward the drifting ashes, his mind shaken.
The old man’s death had been too tragic and resolute. It stunned Yan Shixun on the spot and also revealed to him the kind of man who had once coldly slain all the remaining ghost officials of old Fengdu—decisive and ruthless to the end.
Although now he liked to dig his feet and act smug about compliments, he truly was, as he said, a formidable figure.
He hadn’t been boasting.
Yan Shixun stood frozen for a long while. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the flicker of golden-red flames.
Turning his head, he saw the old man’s cramped little house also ablaze.
The raging fire consumed everything, including the truth the old man had gathered over a thousand years about Ye Li and Fengdu. It all burned to ash.
The books curled at the edges in the fire, combusted, and turned into piles of black dust.
Every piece of evidence and all the truths were completely destroyed, leaving not a single word or clue for old Fengdu or the Ghost Dao to uncover.
The old man had truly fulfilled his promise—
—To take all secrets with him in death. Not a single thing would be left for old Fengdu.
The flames lit up the dark clouds in crimson. The low-hanging black-red clouds exuded an ominous feeling, and a cold wind blew from afar, piercing through Yan Shixun’s thick black coat.
He lowered his eyes and stood in silence for three seconds, facing the direction of the burning house and the old man’s death—a moment to mourn, and also to collect himself.
When he lifted his head again, he had returned to his usual composure. His eyes were cold and sharp, like a sword unsheathed.
Yan Shixun raised his gaze and looked at the sky with
icy resolve, showing no fear of the oppressive, heaven-crushing clouds above.
A raindrop fell.
Then came a torrent of heavy rain, drops as large as beans pelting down.
The clouds churned. Thunder rumbled from the distance, and a thick bolt of lightning split the sky, tearing through the gloom and revealing the high, vast heavens above.
“Boom——!”
The lightning illuminated the entire dim underworld.
It also reflected in Yan Shixun’s eyes, as if igniting a fire within them.
Then, Yan Shixun immediately noticed that a new figure had appeared atop the mountain of corpses.
At first, he could only make out a tall and slender silhouette, standing between lightning and darkness—like a lone guardian at the boundary of Yin and Yang.
As Yan Shixun’s eyes adjusted to the shifting light and shadow, he gradually saw the figure more clearly.
Clad in iron armor, gleaming cold and sharp, a terrifying ghost face snarling at the waist of his battle armor, and a long blade pointing downward in his hand.
The man stood with his back to Yan Shixun atop the mountain of corpses, towering like an immovable mountain.
Then, the man slowly turned his head, lowering his icy gaze in Yan’s direction.
“Boom——!”
Lightning flashed again, illuminating his sharp, cold features.
Yan Shixun’s eyes widened slowly.
It was clearly… Ye Li’s face.
But the aura of this man was far fiercer than the Ye Li Yan Shixun had known—so sharp and intense it was impossible to approach. Just looking at him felt like being cut.
This man was not Ye Li.
He was the warrior who once dared to defy Heaven and the Great Dao for the sake of unjustly slain souls.
The Ebony Statue… had appeared.
The moment Yan Shixun saw him with his own eyes, he finally understood why, a thousand years ago, the ghost officials had been so shaken—and why their beliefs had changed.
Anyone who saw that war general would instantly realize—no matter what kind of Dao they followed, in front of this man, the only outcome was to shatter and fall.
He could triumph over any injustice, fight for all the wrongly slain, and stake everything for what was right.
A mortal who surpassed even gods and spirits.
Yan Shixun raised his head and looked at the man from afar, even his breathing unconsciously softened.
That man’s cold, narrow eyes paused for a split second when they reflected Yan Shixun’s figure—so briefly it was nearly imperceptible.
At the same moment, Ye Li, who had been walking through the underworld, came to a halt.
“Shixun?”
Author’s note:
Ye Li: I suddenly feel like Shixun’s about to be stolen away…
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