Chapter 298: Ritual Money, Old Capital (25)
Before leaping into Baizhi Lake, Li Chengyun had already speculated much about the secrets hidden at the lake’s bottom.
Especially after Zheng Shumu tearfully recounted the past to him—how he had watched helplessly as his pregnant mother sank into the lake, and how heartbroken he felt when her lifeless body, eyes still open in death, floated to the surface—Li Chengyun realized then that the bottom of Baizhi Lake was likely the hiding place of the old Fengdu.
The source of the ghost infant’s power was also likely to be there.
Once he had confirmed the location of his target, Li Chengyun immediately began to set his plan in motion.
He had his old friend stay hidden in the ruined temple behind the deserted village. Knowing that the ghost infant loathed anything divine and had therefore destroyed the temple and avoided going near it, Li Chengyun used this to ensure his friend evaded the ghost infant’s control and detection over the village, effectively concealing his presence.
Li Chengyun instructed his friend to prepare a formation inside the temple ahead of time so that the moment he found the sealing object, he could immediately place it into the array to suppress the ghost infant.
Afterward, Li Chengyun went to Master Bai’s home and proactively asked to see a shadow puppet play.
Although Master Bai didn’t understand at first, he quickly grasped what Li Chengyun truly meant.
—Li Chengyun had already discovered that Master Bai was using shadow puppetry to assist the ghost infant in deceiving heaven and earth.
When Master Bai realized this, he broke out in a cold sweat.
His shoulders slumped in despair as he lowered his head before Li Chengyun, ready to be killed for aiding an evil spirit.
After all, shadow puppetry passed down from his ancestors was known as ghost plays. He was well aware of the ways of exorcists and ghost officials and knew that in the eyes of an exorcist, his actions amounted to sin.
But Li Chengyun didn’t react as Master Bai expected. He didn’t lift a hand against him.
The white-robed hermit calmly took a seat beneath the shadow puppet stage and, with a gentle smile, told Master Bai that what he wanted to see was a new play.
A story about a hermit and a carpenter talking—one that no other being could perceive.
Li Chengyun chuckled softly and asked Master Bai, “Can you perform it?”
Master Bai’s previously despondent expression began to regain color bit by bit. He looked at Li Chengyun with confusion, surprised that this exorcist would so easily let him off for helping a malevolent spirit and showed no intention of killing him.
But as he reflected on Li Chengyun’s words, Master Bai realized something deeper.
He looked at Li Chengyun in shock, only to see him close his eyes with a smile and give him a slight nod.
It was a shared understanding between them—“you know, and I know.”
Master Bai hadn’t expected that not only would Li Chengyun not be angry about his past assistance to the ghost infant, but would even seek his help through the shadow play.
He could see it clearly in Li Chengyun’s eyes—there was understanding.
—Li Chengyun knew all the guilt and remorse he carried, knew that his deep sense of debt toward the carpenter’s family would drive him to do anything for them.
Even if those actions defied heaven and logic.
From the day the carpenter and his wife died, no one had ever understood and accepted him the way Li Chengyun did. Master Bai’s eyes welled up with tears as he nodded repeatedly.
He knew that Li Chengyun’s willingness to enter his shadow puppet play was, in itself, an act of trust.
Otherwise, how could a man whose mission was to exorcise evil entrust everything to someone who had once aided such evil?
For that trust, Master Bai was willing to stake his own life to ensure Li Chengyun’s safety.
Through Master Bai’s shadow puppetry, Li Chengyun was able to completely bypass the ghost infant’s surveillance and have a heartfelt conversation with Zheng Shumu.
The carpenter and his wife had died young, leaving Zheng Shumu while he was still just a boy. Witnessing such a horrific scene at their death had left him with deep psychological trauma.
When he fled the Bai family village, all he had in mind was revenge. He didn’t think of anything else. So even though many people had helped him along the way, their relationships had been fleeting and never truly reached into his heart.
That changed when Li Chengyun saw him in the abandoned village and realized that Zheng Shumu was fundamentally different from the ghost infant. He had experienced warmth in the human world and, though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he still held a deep attachment to it.
Thus, Li Chengyun understood that if Baizhi Lake was to remain peaceful, Zheng Shumu was the key.
The ghost infant had no weaknesses. But those who helped her—Master Bai and Zheng Shumu—while facilitating her revenge, had become her vulnerabilities.
An attack from the outside would never be as effective as dismantling her from within.
Li Chengyun spoke gently and calmly, telling Zheng Shumu part of what he had seen in the future.
He said that if the ghost infant was allowed to continue her willful destruction without interference, the end result would be widespread suffering across the entire southwest.
Everyone who had ever helped Zheng Shumu—those who had saved him from the brink of death—would ultimately die because of him.
Li Chengyun, with serene eyes and a soft voice, asked Zheng Shumu, “Is this what you want?”
To drag all innocent lives into vengeance… Was that truly what his tragically deceased parents would have wanted? If it ever came to that, how would Zheng Shumu’s actions be any different from dragging their souls into hell?
“You originally just wanted your family to live together in peace and happiness.”
Li Chengyun asked him softly, “Wasn’t that it?”
Zheng Shumu was shattered inside.
This man who had bitten down and carved a bloody path of vengeance, who had survived every danger and even laughed when attacked by villagers—
Was now slumping his shoulders and weeping into his hands, undone by just a few of Li Chengyun’s gentle words.
Li Chengyun knew that because of his deep guilt, Zheng Shumu would never easily betray the ghost infant. And he himself never intended to rush things. So, he simply asked Zheng Shumu to turn a blind eye.
He didn’t intend to harm the ghost infant, only to keep it trapped within Baizhi Lake, unable to take a single step beyond its boundary. He didn’t want the ghost infant to affect the Southwest, and under that greater premise, he preserved the life that the ghost infant and Zheng Shumu had built together, relying on each other.
Likewise, Zheng Shumu would turn a blind eye to all of Li Chengyun’s actions and wouldn’t interfere.
It was a win-win situation.
Zheng Shumu agreed to Li Chengyun’s proposal.
However, after some hesitation, he asked Li Chengyun if it might be possible to find his father’s soul and help it reincarnate.
Li Chengyun shook his head apologetically and explained that his destination, the old Fengdu, was perilous and unpredictable. There was a chance he might die there, and thus would be unable to help Zheng Shumu.
“But I have a disciple, the most talented child I’ve ever met in my life.”
When Li Chengyun mentioned Yan Shixun, the calm look in his eyes softened.
He smiled gently and said, “In a few years, he will follow in my footsteps, find his way here, and continue what I left unfinished. When that time comes, Brother Shumu, you can ask him to find your father’s soul. He won’t let you down.”
“Brother Shumu, if you ever meet my Xiao Xun, please trust him just as you trust me.”
“And please tell him this for me—I’m sorry I broke my promise. I couldn’t accompany him through this year’s Lantern Festival.”
After Li Chengyun left, Zheng Shumu sat in place for a long time, unable to come back to his senses.
He was shaken by Li Chengyun—he had never imagined such a person could exist. Someone who walked willingly toward death, ready to sacrifice his life for the sake of countless living beings.
In that moment of emotional upheaval, Zheng Shumu felt deeply ashamed.
When a person stays in a dark room for too long, they become unable to perceive the darkness around them. It’s only when a sliver of light breaks through that they suddenly realize just how long they’ve been in the dark—and that they’ve even forgotten what they used to look like.
At that moment, Zheng Shumu realized that even if he succeeded in his revenge, he was still as insignificant as an ant. For his own happiness, he might even end up causing the deaths of everyone who had ever helped him, or even the entire Southwest.
Yet after all that persistence, happiness still had not arrived.
He and his sister were still living in hell.
After leaving the shadow puppet show, Zheng Shumu changed.
The first to notice this change was Master Bai.
Zheng Shumu, who had always looked at him with resentment and hatred, now showed him a gaze filled with complexity and even understanding. He even casually reminded him to see a doctor and take his medicine.
Master Bai was stunned for a long time—then burst into tears.
Once home, Zheng Shumu began carving a new wooden statue, using that as an excuse to keep his sister in his workshop, not allowing her to go outside, and especially not to leave the village.
Thus, Li Chengyun was able to successfully sneak into Baizhi Lake.
He allowed the countless rotting corpses at the bottom of the lake to drag him down deeper, silently enduring the pain of sharp teeth tearing at his flesh, quietly waiting for the right moment.
When his yang energy dropped to a critical level, and the ghostly aura of Baizhi Lake wrapped around him entirely, he finally made his move.
Li Chengyun used the corpses as a shield to confuse old Fengdu’s perception of him, then charged into the city in one breath.
From the mouths of the evil spirits in old Fengdu, Li Chengyun learned of a ghost official who had gone against the flow—while all other ghost officials were fleeing Fengdu, this one had returned.
He immediately realized that the ghost official they mentioned must be the same one who had been saved by the Bai family ancestor a thousand years ago, and who had passed down the ghost plays.
Li Chengyun didn’t rush to find this ghost official. Instead, he took his time wandering through old Fengdu. In just a few brief encounters, he became “friends” with a large number of evil spirits.
The evil spirits poured out their misery and grievances to him, while Li Chengyun acted as the perfect listener. Without revealing anything, he gradually pieced together a complete story from their accounts.
—A story about the great battle in Fengdu a thousand years ago.
And how the old Fengdu still lingered on, barely surviving, yet secretly waiting for a chance to rise again.
Even the sentient will of old Fengdu, born from the city itself, couldn’t have foreseen this. It had planned to lure this bold, inquisitive living soul into the city and kill him—close the gates and trap the dog.
But instead, Li Chengyun uncovered the entire truth.
Allowing someone like Li Chengyun, who was accustomed to mingling with all sorts of people and had friends all over the world, to interact freely with the tens of thousands of ghosts in old Fengdu—this was the greatest mistake the city ever made.
All Li Chengyun needed was a few words connected to the truth, and he could unravel it all and deduce the full picture.
Just like now.
Before old Fengdu even realized it, Li Chengyun had already discovered the ghost official’s whereabouts and went there.
He engaged in a “friendly” conversation with the ghost official. Even before the ghost official himself realized what was happening, Li Chengyun had already learned about the existence of the ebony statue.
That wooden statue, engraved with the image of the ghost deity in his final moment as a mortal and the future Lord of new Fengdu, held the ultimate power a mortal could possess, along with a will and obsession strong enough to overturn heaven and earth.
Most importantly, the ebony statue was something that old Fengdu feared and hated deeply.
If one wanted to suppress the ghost infant being controlled by old Fengdu, then the ebony statue was undoubtedly the best item for the task.
But the only problem was this: after the ebony statue transformed into a general a thousand years ago and swept away all the fleeing ghost officials, the one surviving ghost official had treasured it and hidden it away—so well that even old Fengdu couldn’t find it.
Li Chengyun had no choice but to stay several days in the ghost official’s home, being “enthusiastically” entertained.
No matter how furiously the ghost official yelled and screamed, the white-robed hermit merely folded his sleeves and looked at him with a smile.
As if he were watching a spoiled child throwing a tantrum and rolling on the floor.
For Li Chengyun, the leisurely days spent teasing the ghost official had been a surprisingly pleasant and carefree experience. But clearly, for the ghost official, it had been anything but enjoyable.
In the underworld, there was no cycle of sun or moon—no division between day and night, and no sense of time passing.
For spirits, this was a torment in itself, a punishment for the sins they had committed in life.
The ghost official, long accustomed to guarding the souls of the underworld, had seen it all. He had assumed that this white-robed hermit from the mortal realm would soon be unable to bear it and would leave.
Yet to his surprise, not only had Li Chengyun adapted quickly, he had even started enthusiastically exploring the ghost official’s home as if on a treasure hunt. He would often break into delighted laughter whenever he uncovered a few long-lost fragments of ancient scriptures.
Each time, the ghost official would fume, his beard trembling with rage, feeling like he might just come back to life from sheer anger.
But it was during this period that the ghost official noticed something: Li Chengyun had read through all the books and texts he had painstakingly collected over the years. And just from the notes and markings Li Chengyun had left behind, the ghost official immediately realized—he understood.
Without needing to be told, Li Chengyun had pieced together, from the faintest clues, the history of Fengdu’s transitions and had figured out the identity and origins of the new Lord of Fengdu.
“The ghost deity mentioned in Xiao Xun’s fate chart is likely this one, isn’t it?”
Li Chengyun smiled as he said to the ghost official, “Since the Lord of Fengdu let you live, it means your karma has already balanced out. You are no longer guilty. If that’s the case, why stay here guarding the old Fengdu, which is about to sink into oblivion?”
“I believe, with your strength, if you returned to the mortal world, you’d be welcomed as an honored guest by every sect. Whether it’s fame, status, virtue, or treasure you desire—it would all be easily within your grasp. Any of those paths would be better than slowly fading away here, with no one ever knowing what you did.”
The ghost official curled his lip, utterly dismissive of Li Chengyun’s words. “And here I thought you were different from those exorcists in the mortal realm—but it seems you’re just the same. What you speak of—is no different from filth.”
“Mortal life is spent chasing fame and fortune, gold and silver—yet how much of that can be brought into Fengdu?”
He sneered and pointed toward the mass grave, saying, “Isn’t everything here judged by merit and sin? Those who are guilty fall into hell. Their souls are left to rot here until they turn to dust and vanish.”
Li Chengyun listened quietly to the ghost official’s scorn, but showed no anger. In fact, he even nodded in agreement, as if he hadn’t noticed the sarcasm in the ghost official’s tone.
By the time the ghost official had raged himself hoarse, his mouth dry and desperate for water, Li Chengyun suddenly grabbed him and pulled him to the edge of the mass grave. There, he made him look at the countless rotting souls that had accumulated over thousands of years.
“Some souls were guilty, so they ended up in hell to suffer punishment. But tell me—what crime did the ordinary people commit, those who lived their lives peacefully?”
Li Chengyun calmly asked, “Why should they, who did nothing wrong, have to die for the hatred of others?”
The ghost official looked stunned. “Are you insane? What are you even talking about…?”
“I’ve seen the future.”
Li Chengyun lowered his gaze slightly, his noble and composed expression calm as water. But the words he spoke next shook the very heavens and earth: “I’ve glimpsed the Great Dao.”
The ghost official’s eyes widened, his jaw slack, utterly speechless as he stared at Li Chengyun for a long time, as if trying to find where his own tongue had gone.
“You—you’re insane, aren’t you?! I’ve lived for thousands of years, and I’ve never seen any ghost or deity dare to look into the Dao—let alone you, a mere hermit. A living soul like you—are you tired of living?!”
The ghost official was so furious he began pacing wildly, nearly pulling his own hair out in frustration. “If I see you next time, will you be dead already? Get lost! Go see if anyone can still save you!”
Li Chengyun only smiled, unconcerned with his own life or death. “If I can’t realize the Dao, then what difference does it make whether I live or die?”
“Besides, do you even realize—Ghost Dao is about to be born into the world. Chaos will reign, and evil spirits will invade the human realm. The living will never know peace again.”
Li Chengyun’s tone remained calm as he asked, “If you knew a disaster like that was coming, and you had a chance to glimpse the Dao and the future—would you really give it up?”
“Would you just sit there, watching the chance to save the living slip through your fingers?”
Li Chengyun gave his own answer with a firm, resonant voice and a gentle smile: “I couldn’t bear it. If I had the chance to stop disaster and chose to do nothing—then that would be my hell.”
The ghost official stood rooted in place, shaken by the conviction in Li Chengyun’s voice. He stared at the white-robed hermit in front of him, as if seeing a living soul for the first time—with wonder and awe.
Li Chengyun shattered everything the ghost official thought he knew about the human world.
And from Li Chengyun’s words, the ghost official learned about the future he had seen.
The most important revelation: Ghost Dao would be born from the old Fengdu.
Ever since it had developed consciousness, the old Fengdu had never stopped struggling. It had sunk itself into the bottom of Baizhi Lake to escape the notice of heaven and earth, clinging to existence. At the same time, it had stirred the ghosts of the southwest over hundreds of years, attempting to gather all their power into a single trump card capable of defying the Great Dao.
Whether it was the Great Dao or the new Fengdu, the old Fengdu harbored deep hatred toward both.
It wanted to overturn the natural order, return the old Fengdu to the human world, stand above all life, and reclaim its transcendent status—
Even if the cost was utter chaos in the mortal world and countless lives lost in agony.
“Do you really want to see a scene like that come to pass?”
Li Chengyun’s handsome and composed features were accompanied by a warm smile, but his eyes held unwavering sharpness. “You and I have seen the future in advance—and we have the power to change it. Even so, you wouldn’t want to do something to prevent that future from coming true?”
“To look away. To stay silent.”
Li Chengyun smiled. “That would become your sin, ghost official. When you fall into a hell of regret and suffer torment day and night, remember—it was your inaction that led to the deaths of countless lives.”
“They could have lived happy lives, peacefully growing old and dying naturally.”
“Not dying because of evil spirits.”
The ghost official’s nose twitched with rage. He had never met anyone who could smile in such an infuriating way. He pointed at Li Chengyun and cursed him so fiercely that his voice turned into a raspy wheeze, smoke practically rising from his throat as he nearly burst into flames from fury.
Li Chengyun still only watched him quietly, smiling all the while.
“…You’re the real evil spirit, aren’t you?”
His gaze was complicated as he looked at Li Chengyun. At last, he understood the Dao that this Chengyun held to—and the burden on his shoulders.
The ghost official’s inner defenses completely collapsed. In that moment of fierce inner turmoil, he wavered, and without suspense, he chose to side with Li Chengyun.
“I’ll help you.”
The ghost official sighed. “What you want—is that ebony statue, isn’t it?”
“Even though once you obtain the statue, the Great Dao will inevitably detect your actions. And you—you yourself will die under the karmic backlash from the Dao’s investigation. You still… don’t regret your decision?”
Li Chengyun lowered his eyes and smiled gently. “It’s all I’ve ever wished for.”
As his words fell, the ghost official stomped heavily on the ground.
Immediately, the earth cracked open, and the countless corpses in the mass grave were swept into the sky by a raging wind.
Blood surged backward. Dark clouds spun and roared above.
The vast number of corpses that had accumulated over thousands of years—enough to blanket the entire horizon—were now lifted away by the ghost official’s power.
And with their removal, something hidden beneath them was revealed.
Li Chengyun instinctively looked down—and immediately held his breath.
—Buried beneath those corpses was clearly an ebony statue.
There was no altar, no temple, and not even the faintest trace of incense offerings.
But the ebony statue needed no additional ornaments. It was enough that anyone who laid eyes on it would instantly recognize—it was undoubtedly a divine statue.
The entire statue was pitch black. Any light that fell upon it seemed to be devoured completely.
It did not resemble the usual benevolent, kind-eyed deities that showed compassion for the world. On the contrary, it glared at the human realm with wrathful eyes, questioning the heavens and earth, so sharp that just looking at it felt like it could cut.
The awe-inspiring presence of a ghost deity swept across the entire mass grave.
Li Chengyun pressed his palms together in greeting and bowed deeply to the statue.
Then, he stepped forward, slowly advancing against the fierce, howling wind that pushed against him with great resistance.
His white robes billowed behind him in the gale, fluttering wildly like a cloud crane spreading its wings to soar. His hair tangled across his eyes, but there was always a smile lingering at the corner of his lips. He showed no fear toward the statue’s warning against others who dared approach.
Amidst the storm, Li Chengyun asked softly, “Baizhi Lake in turmoil, Fengdu behind the chaos—will you subdue it, or not?”
The moment his words fell, time itself seemed to pause. Silence blanketed the entire burial ground.
Yet Li Chengyun simply stared quietly at the ebony statue, waiting for an answer.
Then, the wind disappeared. The resistance that had barred his approach vanished entirely.
The statue stood silently in place, its gaze steady as it watched Li Chengyun walk closer step by step, as if using its silence to respond.
—There was no evil in this world that could not be subdued.
To sweep away all demons and spirits, to pacify malevolence in the human world, and to restore peace to all living beings.
Li Chengyun’s expression softened. After a long moment, he smiled and respectfully lifted the ebony statue.
The ghost official stood motionless, his gaze complicated as he stared at Li Chengyun’s back.
After a while, he finally let out a long sigh.
Before, there had been the Lord of Fengdu. Now, there was the white-robed hermit. There had always been righteous people in the mortal world, far beyond what ordinary folk could imagine—those who saw disaster and willingly stepped forward to shield others from calamity, keeping peace for those living quiet lives.
They would sacrifice themselves for the Dao, without hesitation.
When the ghost official bid farewell to Li Chengyun, he had already clearly seen how this would end.
A thousand years ago, that ancient general had been the only person in millennia to challenge the heavens and even slay a ghost deity emperor, all while still mortal.
And how was the ebony statue any different from that general’s true form?
Once the ebony statue returned to the mortal realm, the Great Dao would undoubtedly sense its reappearance. And with it, the Dao would also recognize the one carrying the statue—Li Chengyun.
At that time, the Great Dao would certainly settle all of Li Chengyun’s karmic debts.
Including… the unbearable karma of having glimpsed the Dao.
That was a burden no mortal could withstand. The only possible outcome would be death and annihilation.
In other words, the moment Li Chengyun carried the ebony statue out of Old Fengdu and back to the mortal world, he would immediately be destroyed by the Great Dao.
But on the other hand, if Li Chengyun were willing to stay in Old Fengdu, or abandon the statue, his fate might have been different.
The ghost official wanted to persuade him to stay, but when he saw the gentle yet unwavering smile on Li Chengyun’s face, all the words he had prepared caught in his throat and vanished.
For a true cultivator, asking him to abandon the Dao he upheld was no different from humiliating him.
Li Chengyun understood what the ghost official was thinking, but he said nothing of it. He merely smiled and said warmly, “It seems my journey is almost at its end. From here on, I leave everything to you.”
“I’m counting on you, Brother Ghost.”
The ghost official blinked rapidly to force back tears, waved his hand gruffly, and muttered, “Get lost already.”
With the ghost official’s help, Li Chengyun was able to take a secret path out of Old Fengdu and return to the mortal world.
And from the very moment he reappeared in the mortal realm, the karma of having glimpsed the Dao took effect.
Every step he took felt like walking on the edge of a blade—agonizing. With every breath, he could smell thick blood in the air. Even the surrounding atmosphere rejected his very existence.
The heavens and earth were vast, yet refused to grant him even the smallest chance to live on.
Intense pain surged rapidly along his meridians, spreading throughout his body. Every muscle trembled, barely able to support his bodily functions.
Yet Li Chengyun did not show the slightest hint of weakness. He still smiled as if everything were calm and effortless. Under his white robe, his body betrayed no sign of suffering.
Only the way he clenched his teeth revealed the truth of his agony.
Li Chengyun could feel his life force slipping away quickly, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep going, sustained by sheer willpower.
In his hands, he held the ebony statue high. Step by step.
He walked toward the abandoned temple.
There, an old friend had been waiting, ready with the formation that would be activated upon the statue’s arrival—to suppress the evil haunting Baizhi Lake.
When the exorcist saw Li Chengyun, his long-held anxiety finally eased. He let out a deep breath and rushed forward, ready to ask if Li Chengyun had been hurt during his perilous journey.
But as he got close, he suddenly noticed how Li Chengyun’s complexion had rapidly turned ashen.
So, the joy that had first come from seeing the ebony statue had completely turned into terror and stunned confusion.
“Brother Chengyun, you…”
But Li Chengyun simply gave a light chuckle and personally placed the statue he held at the center of the array.
Chants of talismans fell one after another, and a wind suddenly rose from the still air within the temple, gently lifting the hem of Li Chengyun’s robes.
The formation activated.
Li Chengyun’s lingering obsession finally dispersed.
The tenacious will that had kept him going, gritting his teeth and refusing to give up, gradually turned into a long exhale and slipped away.
He was smiling, his brows and eyes softening. His gaze shimmered like water, and the smile spread across his face, breathtaking in its beauty.
“I’m about to die. What’s left can only be left to you to complete.”
Still smiling, he lowered his lashes and gave a small bow to his old friend. “My journey ends here. From now on, the peace of Baizhi Lake is yours to guard.”
His old friend was overwhelmed with grief. He bit his lip until it bled, forcing his sobs back down his throat. With tear-filled eyes, he watched Hermit Chengyun—whom he had cherished as a lifelong friend—turn around and step away from the temple, distancing himself so that the karmic consequences of the Great Dao wouldn’t affect the formation within.
His white robes billowed in the wind, fluttering with grace.
Li Chengyun could feel that the vitality within his body had plummeted to a terrifying low. Even his vision was starting to blacken and blur; he could barely see the brilliance of the living world.
He tilted his head back with a sigh and gazed up at the vast spring sky.
Then, he closed his eyes and collapsed to the ground.
The sky was bright and clear, the mountain clouds soft as ink, with not a trace of gloom.
Li Chengyun’s long lashes quivered once, then his lips curled faintly in a smile as he finally shut his eyes completely.
In the final moments before he slipped into darkness, the last thoughts in his mind, aside from the Great Dao of heaven and earth, were of Yan Shixun’s face.
Lantern Festival. Falling snow. Plum blossoms.
He had promised that child he would learn to make yuanxiaos, and they would celebrate the Lantern Festival together in reunion.
But he had failed.
He had broken his promise, Xiao Xun…
Li Chengyun stopped breathing.
Crystalline snowflakes landed on the tip of his nose, and on the gentle smile that remained on his lips.
In that moment, all the mountain flowers around Baizhi Lake bloomed in unison, full of vibrant life.
As though Li Chengyun’s death had saved thousands of beings, and the plants and mountains mourned alongside them.
Pale pink and deep red petals burst open, draping over twisted branches.
Then, all the petals withered in an instant, falling from the branches in a flurry, covering Li Chengyun’s entire body.
The mountain flowers bloomed and withered, and bloomed again.
Three times the cycle repeated—birth and death, yin and yang—leaving behind only vitality.
The petals that fell on the white robes were translucent and soft, but the brilliant white-robed hermit would never open his eyes to see them again.
Sensing something was wrong, Zheng Shumu rushed over and saw only the image of Li Chengyun peacefully sleeping beneath a bed of blossoms. In that moment, he was struck with awe, staring blankly at Li Chengyun for a long time, unable to recover from the shock.
And in the southwest that spring, a heavy snow fell, covering every path that led to Li Chengyun.
He sacrificed himself for the Dao, moving both heaven and earth.
A peerless beauty, unmatched in the world.
In the end, heaven and earth could not bear to let Li Chengyun truly vanish, body and Dao both extinguished.
He had fought for a sliver of hope for all under heaven, and so heaven and earth left him a sliver of hope in return.
His Dao would be inherited by those who came after.
And the fragment of his soul left behind when he departed the old Fengdu was able to reopen its eyes—and continue to protect the world he loved.
In the deepest level of hell, within eternal stillness and darkness, Li Chengyun had no idea how many years had passed.
He silently counted the days in his heart, remembered each passing Lantern Festival year after year, and smiled as he wondered whether Xiao Xun had made many friends, whether someone loved him, whether he felt lonely or not.
And when Lantern Festival came… would someone eat yuanxiaos with Xiao Xun?
With eyes lowered and gentle, Li Chengyun remained clear-minded in the bottomless darkness, enduring the kind of bleak stillness no ordinary person could bear, quietly waiting.
When someone possessed a will strong enough to resist even heaven and earth, and a future in their heart worth holding onto, then even the most unbearable stretch of time became easier to endure.
In the darkness, Li Chengyun recited scriptures over and over, recalling from memory all the books he had once collected in his study, reciting them backwards and forwards to keep his mind clear and undisturbed.
And then, to his surprise, a visitor arrived.
—It was the Lord of Fengdu, Ye Li.
“My Xiao Xun might not say it, but he’s actually very afraid of being lonely. After all, when he was just a child, his parents abandoned him at the marketplace… He doesn’t like being alone, but he also doesn’t want anyone else to know that.”
Li Chengyun smiled as he spoke to Ye Li. “I don’t know how your cooking skills are? I promised Xiao Xun that I would make him a bowl of yuanxuaos, but sadly, I never managed to fulfill that promise.”
Ye Li, who had been listening attentively, visibly stiffened—ever so slightly—beneath his black robes when Li Chengyun mentioned cooking. His gaze shifted for a brief moment, which was rare.
He remembered how Jing Xiaobao used to sob uncontrollably every time he tasted his food. For once, he felt a bit guilty.
But under Li Chengyun’s steady gaze, Ye Li still maintained his flawless composure. Not showing the slightest bit of guilt, he nodded calmly. “After being with Shixun, I’ve been actively working on my cooking. I’ve made significant progress.”
Li Chengyun looked at Ye Li and gradually began to feel that his face looked familiar.
When the topic of Yan Shixun’s childhood encounter at the marketplace came up, past memories surged forth. Li Chengyun suddenly felt that he had once seen Ye Li there too.
“You—”
Li Chengyun blinked, rubbed his chin, and pondered for a moment before speaking: “Back then, were you also at that market?”
“I think I caught a glimpse of you.”
At that time, Li Chengyun had followed a divination sign to the market in search of a vital opportunity.
Instead, he had unexpectedly discovered Yan Shixun, who bore the mark of the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation.
Naturally, he believed Yan Shixun was the sliver of hope indicated in the divination.
But now, over a decade later, Li Chengyun finally realized—perhaps that sign of hope wasn’t just about Yan Shixun.
Rather, it was when Yan Shixun and Ye Li were together that true hope existed.
Ye Li smiled and nodded, acknowledging, “That day at the market was the first time I met Shixun. He gave me the most cherished thing under heaven and earth, and so, I returned him a world of peace and beauty.”
That candied apple had already surpassed all the treasures in the world.
“I wasn’t seeing you for the first time either,”
Ye Li recalled with a soft smile, shaking his head. “Back then, I had no thought of a bond with Shixun. I only wanted to repay karma and then leave the mortal realm. So I watched as you took Shixun away.”
At the time, he believed he had done the right thing—entrusting young Yan Shixun to someone reliable to raise him.
What he hadn’t anticipated was that he would come to regret that decision. That he would miss seeing Yan Shixun grow up over the course of more than a decade with his own eyes.
Li Chengyun raised his eyebrows at these words, squinting with a smile. But from his lips came a few weighty words: “Keep dreaming.”
“Xiao Xun is my disciple. Once you’ve made a choice, there’s no room for regret, Lord of Fengdu.”
Ye Li gently waved his hand. “Though I may regret, I don’t blame you. I’m truly grateful to you. You gave Shixun a home. You… raised him well.”
Just as Li Chengyun was about to respond, a faint tremor suddenly rippled through the sky above the underworld.
Ye Li felt it too—the underworld was quaking.
He quickly looked up. The black-red sky, which had only been trembling slightly, suddenly began shaking violently. Even the earth beneath his feet swayed intensely, as if the heavens and earth were about to collapse in the next moment.
A booming roar thundered from afar, accompanied by the crisp sound of something shattering—like the intricate layers of formations in the old Fengdu being swiftly broken by someone.
That sound surged straight toward the underworld.
A smile curled at Ye Li’s lips. He understood.
Li Chengyun, too, recovered from his initial shock and immediately realized what was happening.
“It seems… Xiao Xun is here.”
Li Chengyun smiled, folding his hands behind his back. Under the stormy and darkened sky, he looked like an immortal returning with the wind.
He glanced sideways at Ye Li, nodded slightly, and softly said, “Thank you, for staying by Xiao Xun’s side.”
The ground trembled. The blood-red clouds howled and spun violently. Tornadoes stretched from the heavy, surging clouds all the way to the land below.
The howling wind wailed like the cries of ghosts.
But neither Li Chengyun nor Ye Li was frightened by the terrifying environment. Instead, they both raised their heads toward the sky, awaiting the arrival of that one familiar figure.
At last—
RUMBLE—!
Lightning cracked, and thunder roared.
It was as if a giant, invisible hand had torn the sky apart. Even the thick, oppressive clouds were split open.
Light pierced through, illuminating a patch of land.
Then came a figure, plunging down from above the clouds, wrapped in the howling wind.
The young man’s features were sharp and striking, his eyes bright and resolute, like a blade slicing through the darkest depths of hell—piercing straight into the very heart of the old Fengdu.
He was the exorcist from the mortal realm.
Here for all living beings. Fighting for the Great Dao of heaven and earth.
Ye Li’s lips curled with a smile. He took a step forward and called out, “Shixun…”
But before he could finish, he suddenly realized—Yan Shixun hadn’t come alone.
…There was another figure by his side, one who already looked incredibly annoying.
That man wore battle armor that gleamed coldly. With a sword in hand, he strode forward fearlessly, as if even if ghosts, gods, or the heavens themselves stood before him, he could cut them down with a single strike.
Yet this fierce general had deliberately restrained all his sharp edges, for fear of hurting the young man beside him. The hands that once tamed wild horses with a sword now held the youth with utmost gentleness, carefully wrapping an arm around his waist.
As if he feared even the slightest pressure would harm the young man.
That general’s gesture—embracing Yan Shixun by the waist—completely infuriated Ye Li.
Ye Li had barely seen Yan Shixun smile for two seconds before his face turned dark. His gaze toward the general was chillingly cold, like a storm of arrows ready to fly.
The general sensed the deadly gaze meant to pierce him like a blade. But he only lifted his lashes, let his eyes sweep over Ye Li standing on the broken ground below, and looked away again, as if Ye Li were nothing but air.
His hand even tightened slightly, drawing Yan Shixun closer.
Ye Li: “!!!”
Damn that crude, vulgar brute!!!
Following the general’s gaze, Yan Shixun also saw Ye Li standing among the remnants of hell, looking up at him.
But what caught his attention even more was the figure standing beside Ye Li.
That person’s expression was gentle, his smile relaxed. When he looked up, his eyes shimmered with warmth like flowing water.
Time apart hadn’t left a single mark on him. On the contrary, it had only refined his aura—calm and deep, graceful and radiant.
The moment Yan Shixun clearly saw that face, his eyes widened in disbelief.
That was clearly… his master, Li Chengyun.
Yet after his master had departed, not even in dreams did he come to see him—not once. Yan Shixun had nearly forgotten what his master looked like.
But now, the person before him was unmistakably his master, Li Chengyun.
What was going on?
Li Chengyun stepped forward slowly, smiling gently as he softly called out, “Xiao Xun.”
Xiao Xun.
That voice overlapped with his memories.
In that instant, it was as if Yan Shixun lost all ability to think.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak.
In his vision, everything—the underworld, the ghosts—vanished.
Only one thing remained: Li Chengyun, smiling as he looked up at him.
He stood tall and graceful, exactly as he had always remembered him—calm, unfazed, untouched by time. As if those years of separation had never passed. As if he had only gone on a long journey and forgotten to return.
And he—he had come to bring him home.
Tears instantly welled in Yan Shixun’s eyes. His throat tightened with emotion. He opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say. The mind that once deceived ghosts and commanded heaven and earth now couldn’t even summon a single word.
There were so many things he wanted to ask Li Chengyun. But in the end, all his clever words condensed into one simple call.
“Master.”
At that moment, Ye Li decisively stepped forward and opened his arms to catch Yan Shixun.
A beast formed of black mist lunged in between, separating Yan Shixun from the general.
As the young man landed, he fell perfectly into Ye Li’s embrace without the slightest error.
Ye Li tightened his arms around the precious person in his arms and held him close. “Shixun, I’m here too.”
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