Chapter 322: The Divine Tomb of the Underground Palace (9)
Because the house where Yan Shixun and the others were staying was located outside the village, it was quite a distance away from the village itself.
Before he could clearly see what was happening in the village, what reached him first—before even his eyes—was a distinct smell.
A thick stench of blood mixed with the fresh green scent of broken plants made the smell aggressively pungent, enough to immediately make one realize that something drastic had happened in the village—something far from ordinary.
Yan Shixun didn’t even have time to fix his partially dressed clothes as the cold wind pierced through them. His expression turned serious as he quickly strode toward the village.
The closer he got, the stronger the smell of blood became. He could even see splatters of blood staining the bare branches.
There was a bloody handprint smeared prominently on a haystack by the roadside.
Then, as he turned a corner, a vast sea of red struck his eyes with a painful sharpness.
—The villagers, who had been lively and animated during their first meeting that afternoon, now lay dead on the ground.
Every face still bore a look of horror, their wide-open eyes bulging as if they were about to fall out of their sockets.
They were sprawled haphazardly across pools of blood, as though they had been slaughtered while trying to flee. Their clothes were soaked in blood, and in the biting cold of the night, their bodies had gradually lost all warmth.
It wasn’t just the small central square of the village either. Yan Shixun noticed that trails of blood extended in all directions, leading deeper into the village.
It seemed like the villagers had fled their homes in panic but ultimately failed to escape their fate—dying right there.
He swiftly crouched down and reached out to check the pulses of more than a dozen villagers lying nearby. When he found not a single sign of life, a heavy feeling settled in his chest.
But the fact that their bodies still held warmth made him realize this had just happened not long ago. Perhaps… there were still survivors in the village who needed help.
With that thought in mind, Yan Shixun stood and continued deeper into the village.
However, the further he went, the colder and more severe his expression became.
He saw that the earthen walls of every home were covered in bloody handprints—so many of them, it looked as if they’d been left by dozens or even hundreds of people.
Not just the walls—there were also faint, broken footprints in blood scattered messily across the ground.
The entire village was deathly silent.
After hearing a scream earlier, Yan Shixun had immediately gotten up and rushed out, but on his way to the village, he hadn’t heard a single sound since.
Could it be…
A dreadful suspicion rose in his heart.
As Yan Shixun followed the bloodstains and pushed open the doors of one house after another, the scenes before his eyes stabbed at them like needles. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.
There were far more dead than just those dozen or so outside. Every home, every single person, had collapsed in terror, soaked in their own blood.
Unwilling to give up, Yan Shixun kept checking house after house. But when he finally opened the gate to the last home at the edge of the village, he fell silent.
…The entire village—over a hundred people—none had survived. They had all died here.
Most of the bodies still wore loose sleeping clothes, their terrified faces still bearing faint traces of grogginess.
Some had even died right on their beds.
Blood gushed and soaked through clothes and bedding.
Unattended stoves had gradually gone out.
Even colder than a winter’s night was the chill of the corpses.
Although Yan Shixun rarely interfered with the karma of others, and had no interest in those who committed evil, such large-scale death still stirred something in him. He couldn’t ignore it.
Leaning against the doorframe of the last house, Yan Shixun stood quietly, eyes lowered toward the ground.
The child of this household was the young man who had earlier been defiant and attempted to provoke them, only to be frightened into submission.
But now, he would never wear that challenging expression again.
He had died here.
His hand clutched the threshold tightly, nails split and soaked in blood from the force. His entire body was sprawled on the ground in a crawling posture, as if trying to escape. His eyes were wide and lifeless, his face still frozen in terror and longing.
He had wanted to escape—to flee this massacre.
He had been so close. Just a bit more and he would’ve made it.
But unfortunately, that thing still caught up with him and killed him less than an inch away from safety.
Yan Shixun stared at the corpse for a few seconds before something suddenly occurred to him. He quickly crouched down and reached out to pull aside the collar of the body.
Sure enough, there were deep wounds on the corpse’s neck and shoulders, so deep that the bones were visible.
What was even more disturbing was that, judging from the jagged edges of the wounds, they appeared to have been bitten into—ripped open by sheer force—leaving the flesh and blood in a mangled mess.
This was also the man’s fatal injury and what caused his death.
Cause of death: rupture of the carotid artery.
Yan Shixun’s fingers hovered above the wound, frozen in place.
This was by no means a normal way for a person to attack. It was nearly impossible to imagine anyone killing another by literally biting through their throat. Whether by knife or other tools, there were far easier ways to kill.
Either the attacker harbored an intense hatred toward the victim—so deep they wanted to eat their flesh and drink their blood…
Or perhaps, the thing that caused such brutal deaths… wasn’t human at all.
But… a ghost.
Yan Shixun recalled the story the village chief had told him about an event that happened a hundred years ago. But now, even the village chief lay dead on the road just outside the village, his body covered in bite marks, his eyes wide open in death.
Could it be… that there really were tales of the dead rising in this village?
Was it connected to the abandoned yizhuang?
Yan Shixun’s eyes and expression grew sharp and cold with alertness.
Because not long ago, he had still been in deep sleep. Within minutes, he had rolled out of bed, walked a long distance, and crouched for a considerable time. So when he stood up, his vision blurred instantly, and he lost his balance, falling forward.
Fortunately, Ye Li had been watching Yan Shixun closely the whole time. With quick reflexes, he reached out his long arm and caught him around the waist, pulling him into his embrace.
“I’m fine,”
Yan Shixun said, reaching out to push against Ye Li’s chest. “If my guess is correct, and the villagers’ deaths are truly connected to the abandoned yizhuang, then we must return immediately. The others are still in the house outside the village—they might be in danger.”
Even though both the general and the King of Hell had stayed behind, Yan Shixun couldn’t rest easy until he saw everyone safe with his own eyes.
But this time, Ye Li didn’t follow Yan Shixun’s suggestion to head back.
He didn’t look the least bit concerned about the guests’ situation.
Yan Shixun furrowed his brows, looking at Ye Li in confusion.
“Shixun, those people died because of karma. Whether they live or die depends on the depth of the victim’s resentment. No one else has the right to interfere or comment.”
Ye Li spoke calmly. “But the others—the people who came here with us—have no connection to this karma. There’s no reason for them to be killed.”
“So, there’s no need to worry.”
Ye Li lowered his eyelashes slightly and said softly, “The ghosts trapped here, unable to leave, aren’t intending to act beyond the bounds of karma. If something isn’t part of their karma, they won’t touch it—not even a bit.”
Yan Shixun caught the word “ghosts” and immediately pressed, “You mean it is related to the abandoned yizhuang?”
But this time, Ye Li couldn’t give Yan Shixun an answer.
“I’m sorry, Shixun,”
Ye Li pressed his pale lips together and said, “My burial site is nearby. And that… thing is also not far from here…”
The only thing that could see through him without mercy was the Great Dao.
Not even ghost deities could truly perceive his nature.
Near one’s burial site, ghosts were both the fiercest and the weakest. The lingering emotions from the corpse could heavily affect the ghost itself.
Even here, Ye Li could still see things that ordinary people and even immortals couldn’t.
But the ghosts that had killed the villagers seemed to be connected to Ye Li’s own corpse. That link had blocked his ability to investigate them further, preventing him from answering Yan Shixun’s questions.
Yan Shixun didn’t press any further. He simply nodded and instead tried to comfort Ye Li: “It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. Just knowing this much is already enough. At the very least, we can now be certain—this is indeed your burial site.”
As he spoke, Yan Shixun’s expression gradually became serious.
He stood facing Ye Li and solemnly asked, “What the King of Hell said—is it true? As long as we find your corpse, you can become one with the Great Dao?”
Ye Li had assumed Yan Shixun’s words of comfort were because he cared. His heart had just begun to feel warm and sweet, thinking that perhaps Shixun really did have some feelings for him. But in the very next moment, Yan Shixun’s sudden question left him stunned in place.
He had been about to quietly reach out and hold Yan Shixun’s hand—but ended up grabbing nothing but air.
Ye Li’s gaze immediately lowered, a trace of grievance showing on his face.
Still, he answered Yan Shixun’s question with certainty.
“That’s indeed the case.”
Ye Li did not conceal the truth about himself. He looked at Yan Shixun with gentle eyes and said, “The moment I ascended to become a ghost deity, I had already let go of everything that symbolized my past life and experiences as a mortal. That was how I proved my unwavering conviction.”
“It wasn’t just me—many deities have done the same. But doing so is equivalent to discarding the past.”
“Yet the Great Dao demands the convergence of past, present, and future. Only by stepping beyond the Three Realms and the Five Elements, cutting off all chaos and distractions, can one confront all beings in creation with the strictest and most impartial stance—without bias.”
The very moment the old Fengdu vanished, the southwest region was finally brought under Fengdu’s jurisdiction.
This meant that from that point on, all death and judgment within that entire land would be completely governed by Ye Li.
As he felt the power and authority return to his grasp, Ye Li also came to understand the Great Dao’s intent.
Yin and yang, heaven and earth—everything depended on balance. One rose as the other fell.
The Great Dao’s greatest strength was balance.
Between life and death, it always sought the most moderate and harmonious point.
Ye Li understood clearly: if it had been in the past, the Great Dao would never have allowed all this power to concentrate solely in his hands. It would have found a way to counterbalance it.
Just like how it used Fengdu and the underworld to check the forces of death.
But this time, the Great Dao allowed everything to return to Fengdu. It either didn’t see it at all, or deliberately turned a blind eye.
So Ye Li understood—the Great Dao no longer sought balance.
What it wanted was an absolute power strong enough to uphold the heavens and earth.
Though Ye Li didn’t say it aloud, clarity bloomed in his heart.
“Once I recover my corpse and accept its existence, it will be the same as reclaiming my past. At that moment…”
Ye Li lowered his gaze gently, as if he could see the entire world and all living beings at a glance.
After a brief moment of shock, Yan Shixun quickly composed himself. He looked at Ye Li with solemnity and asked, “Then what about you? What do you want? Do you wish to become the Great Dao?”
“Even if Lu Xingxing’s injuries are severe and truly require vitality to save him, Ye Li, I will never allow my responsibility toward Xingxing to become a bargaining chip for the Great Dao to threaten you.”
Thinking of the possible truth, Yan Shixun’s expression turned cold. His brows and eyes were sharp as blades. “Not even the Great Dao can force me to do something I don’t want to do. If it tries to—”
He gave a cold laugh. “I won’t hesitate to change heaven and earth again.”
Ye Li stared quietly at Yan Shixun standing before him. For a moment, it was as though he even forgot how to breathe.
His beloved… had said he would reshape the world and suppress the Great Dao—for him.
A rosy flush appeared on Ye Li’s pale, bloodless skin, and even his body temperature soared, but he didn’t feel any of it. All his focus was on Yan Shixun.
His breathing gradually grew rapid, and though he pressed his lips together, he still couldn’t stop the smile from forming. It felt like fireworks were endlessly exploding in his heart, and every drop of blood surging through his veins cried out in love for Yan Shixun.
How could such a person exist?
Through millennia, through the endless cycle of life and death, there was only Yan Shixun—brilliant beyond compare, so radiant Ye Li couldn’t look away.
His one and only…
Joy filled Ye Li’s entire expression, his gaze rippling like spring water in motion, wave after wave.
At that moment, he looked nothing like the rumored cold and impartial Lord of Fengdu.
He looked exactly like someone deeply, hopelessly in love.
“Ye Li, what you truly want matters greatly to me.”
Yan Shixun met Ye Li’s eyes and spoke clearly and firmly, “If you tell me you don’t want to become the Great Dao, we’ll leave right now and find another way.”
“You don’t need to hesitate. There are other ways to save Lu Xingxing, and I will never accept the Great Dao’s threats.”
“To me, you are what matters most.”
Ye Li slowly widened his eyes. His mind short-circuited like a faulty circuit board, going completely blank. He could no longer hear anything else or see anyone else.
All he could hear was his lover saying—
“You are what matters most.”
Even his hands hanging by his sides were trembling. He didn’t even dare to reach out and touch Yan Shixun to confirm that this was real.
In his mind, only one thought remained—that the lover who had always been slow to respond to love… had finally answered his feelings.
And in such a fierce, overwhelming way.
In that instant, Ye Li wanted nothing more than to laugh aloud and tell every ghost and every living soul their story, to let the world know how deeply he loved Yan Shixun—and to let the Great Dao see that Yan Shixun loved him back.
Nothing and no one could come between them.
Everything else… had ceased to matter.
Ye Li stepped forward, slowly extended his arms, and pulled Yan Shixun into an embrace.
“Since this world has you, then what harm…. is there in becoming the Great Dao?”
The corners of his lowered eyes held nothing but joy. His normally deep and calm voice flowed with a honeyed lightness and sweetness.
Fengdu had once refused the Great Dao many times, shutting its doors tightly, unwilling even to meet with it.
Whether it was to support the Great Dao or become it, Ye Li had never been interested.
As early as a thousand years ago, he had seen through the dark nature of humans and exorcists. Even though he had tried repeatedly to give the world chances, all the world ever returned to him was deeper and deeper disappointment.
Infants wailed, women screamed, girls wept.
Justice was discarded like trash. The righteous perished for their righteousness.
Ye Li had long since lost hope.
The eyes with which he had once watched over the mortal realm gradually lost all warmth, leaving behind only cold, emotionless judgment.
But now, Ye Li finally understood.
That was only because the world he had seen back then—had not included Yan Shixun.
With him in it, the moon shone bright and the wind was clear. Even in the most hopeless dead ends, the world was impossibly beautiful.
Ye Li held Yan Shixun tightly in his arms and let out a satisfied sigh.
What could be more dazzling than the treasure he held right now?
Nothing.
Yan Shixun could feel the low, rumbling vibrations from Ye Li’s chest. The laughter in his ears made him feel ticklish, and he almost wanted to push Ye Li away.
But the moment his hand landed on Ye Li’s arm, he hesitated—then let it go.
Forget it.
Yan Shixun thought Ye Li was probably just moved after being comforted, right? After all, in this whole situation, Ye Li was the one at the center of it all. Letting him be happy for a little while longer wasn’t a big deal.
He blinked a few times, letting his mind drift, starting to think about the abandoned yizhuang and the grave site.
As for Ye Li’s thoughts…
Yan Shixun: Ye Li is the one most involved, of course he matters.
Ye Li: Shixun said… I’m the one who matters most to him (smiling).
If you love what Ciacia is doing, then consider showing your support by supporting a cup of tea for her at Kofi. If you can’t wait for the next release chapter, subscribe to advanced chapters membership on her Kofi to get access to up to 10 chapters!
