Before his consciousness disappeared, Qin Shu heard a fairly familiar voice sigh softly beside his ear.
“I’m sorry, Student Qin… For my sake, and for his, I have to do this.”
As the words ended, Qin Shu’s vision went black. An incomprehensible sensation of weightlessness dragged him downward into some unknown place. Down, down, down, falling endlessly into boundless chaos without a single point of support.
Qin Shu did not panic or struggle to see through the darkness before him. Instead, he frowned and desperately searched his memory, trying to identify the owner of that voice by matching it against everyone he knew and narrowing the possibilities to people connected with Jiangcheng No. 2 High School.
Who would call him Student Qin? Xu Min? Not him. Teacher Fu? Impossible.
Who else?
He rapidly eliminated possibilities until only one answer remained, and that answer startled him.
Lin Shi Yu.
Qin Shu already suspected that Lin Shi Yu was not truly dead, but he had never expected… Lin Shi Yu to be the “Cultivator A” hidden behind the intermediary, desperately seeking a treasure that could save his life.
Yet when Qin Shu worked backward through everything that had happened today, the conclusion actually seemed fairly reasonable.
The number of human cultivators who possessed entry passes to the Dragon Palace would not be zero, but such passes could not possibly be common either.
Relations between ordinary human cultivators and yao were already poor, and their internal channels of information were entirely different. Most humans might never even have heard of the Dragon Mother’s birthday banquet, much less competed for an invitation. They would not even possess the qualifications to compete.
Lin Shi Yu, however, was different. That young prodigy from the buffalo-yao clan genuinely liked him and was currently pursuing him enthusiastically.
More importantly, buffalo yao and the Dragon Mother were both bovine, and could even be considered distant kin from the same ancestral stock. If that was the case, then as one of the Dragon Mother’s own kind, obtaining one extra black pearl from the thousand-year-old clam spirit and bringing along one harmless human cultivator to attend the banquet should have been remarkably easy.
Once Qin Shu arranged the known information in sequence, all those inexplicable events immediately began to make sense. There were still unresolved questions, however…
Why had the Dragon Mother attacked Lin Shi Yu? Why had he been forced into a state where no one knew whether he was alive or dead, even going so far as to surrender this priceless black pearl in an open search for a life-saving treasure?
And what exactly had Lin Shi Yu meant by that transmitted apology beside Qin Shu’s ear?
The story behind Lin Shi Yu was probably far from simple.
A cultivator without secrets would hardly choose to open a vegetarian teahouse beside No. 2 High despite knowing he had practically no customer base and that ordinary high school students could never afford such expensive spirit tea.
Unfortunately, forcing his brain to think this far was already Qin Shu’s limit. The endless darkness tightened around him like a pair of invisible hands locked around his throat, crushing and grinding away at his consciousness until even his heart, lungs, and organs seemed to be compressed flat.
His body suddenly became light. What little oxygen remained was completely stripped away, and he lost consciousness.
…
“Terrible news! Terrible news! My lord, please wake up! That person has been sent here. No one above has arranged anything on his behalf. They only said… only said for you to handle it as you see fit. What should we do about this…?”
An unfamiliar voice sounded beside him, somewhat shrill and trembling faintly. The darkness before Qin Shu gradually brightened beneath dim candlelight.
Cold. Extremely cold. Even the candle flames were cold, the blood-red light carrying a corpse-bone whiteness within it.
He did not answer. Carefully raising his eyelids, Qin Shu discovered himself sitting upon a stone chair covered in sable fur.
The thick sable was absurdly luxurious in texture, easily the softest and fluffiest fur Qin Shu had ever sat on in his entire life. It wrapped the wide stone chair’s armrests, back, and hard edges completely, yet provided his body with not the slightest trace of warmth.
His clothes had changed as well. The fabric was equally luxurious, soft and fine, lying close against every inch of his skin without feeling suffocating, almost as though it could breathe along with the rise and fall of his chest.
Yet strangely, even material gentler than wool was just as icy cold, completely incapable of blocking the chill that seeped overwhelmingly into his bones. Qin Shu lowered his gaze to his hands, checking whether this body was actually his.
His palm lines were correct, and his fingerprints were exactly the same, but a thin layer of calluses now covered his fingertips. The web between his thumb and forefinger bore traces left by long-term use of some hard, cold weapon. The skin over his knuckles was not entirely smooth either; on closer inspection, it appeared to have repeatedly split open to flesh and then healed again.
So… this was his body, yet also not his body. Fortunately, Qin Shu was not entirely unfamiliar with this version of himself. He had only recently seen it in the Karmic Mirror.
Pitch-black underworld robes, long hair beneath a golden crown, crimson eyes, an icy and severe presence, and black beast horns reflecting dim shadows beneath the candlelight.
He turned toward the owner of that shrill voice and, unsurprisingly, found… a little green-faced ghost with ferocious tusks protruding from its lips. It looked neither fully human nor otherwise, though its clothing somewhat resembled a county constable from a historical drama.
Beneath everything was a narrow-sleeved black robe not unlike Qin Shu’s, topped with a crimson sleeveless vest and a blood-red belt. Thick-soled boots covered its feet, and beneath its belt hung a rust-covered iron ruler.
The green-faced, tusked creature was obviously an underworld officer. Judging merely by the density of its ghostly aura and the quality of its uniform, it ranked far above the underworld officers serving Jiangcheng’s City God and possessed considerable strength.
Qin Shu’s gaze moved downward and found a wooden identification plaque at its waist. The bloodstained characters 【Yi-12】 were carved into it, surrounded by a faint ghostly glow.
Yi-12. This was presumably the ghost’s official identification, and it shook lightly along with its trembling body. Qin Shu noticed that this high-ranking underworld officer seemed quite afraid of him. The moment Qin Shu’s gaze shifted, the ghost’s trembling actually intensified, and a faint pallor seemed to show even through its green-black face.
Good news. Excellent news. This meant Qin Shu was apparently somewhat stronger than a high-ranking underworld officer and probably possessed at least some authority over it.
The ghost had called him “my lord” just now… The trouble was that ordinary male officials throughout the underworld were often addressed as “lord” by familiar subordinates and commoners, much as in ancient times. The City God could be “my lord,” Black and White Impermanence could be addressed that way, and even a local Earth God could be called “my lord.”
Qin Shu possessed an identification plaque too: a square piece of blood-red sandalwood carved with a single character, 【Qin】, and nothing else. He could not determine what his actual position was, so he did not relax his guard. He hurriedly recalled the version of himself he had seen in the Karmic Mirror and tried to imitate that cold, intimidating authority.
“What did you say? Speak properly.” Qin Shu did not remain silent for long. He frowned slightly, as though irritated at being awakened, and kept his tone short and hard.
“This lowly one knows his mistake! Warden, it’s… it’s Lord Zhaoyuan. He has been delivered into our custody. The Emperor’s attitude was somewhat strange. No explicit judgment has been issued. We were only ordered to imprison Lord Zhaoyuan alone here in Zhoujue Yin. Whether he is to undergo further interrogation afterward has been left for you to decide.”
“Tch. Troublesome.” Qin Shu’s brows knitted more tightly.
He knew neither Lord Zhaoyuan nor this so-called Emperor. All he could do was seize upon the key phrase “Zhoujue Yin” and think rapidly.
Zhoujue Yin Heavenly Palace.
Located in the far north upon Luofeng Mountain, it stood at the heart of the Six Heavenly Palaces of the Underworld and was ruled by the Northern Tai Emperor… in other words, the legendary Emperor of Fengdu.
It could almost be regarded as another form of Yama’s Hall, except its hierarchy and environment differed somewhat from the underworld known to modern cultivators. More than somewhat—they were worlds apart.
Qin Shu had only recently visited the underworld, but now, as he swept an intentionally cold and severe gaze around his surroundings, he could find no trace of the familiar dilapidation.
He rapidly gathered every useful detail: the enormous stone chair, hard and imposing; the luxurious sable covering it; the candlelight, icy yet dripping with spiritual energy so dense it almost seemed tangible…
Dark stone walls covered in instruments of punishment, a heavy and exquisitely made sandalwood desk, case files and documents stacked in layers of cold silk. A censer of gold and jade sat upon the desk, releasing rich, concentrated ghostly energy that surrounded his body with a powerful lifting force. Instead of weakening him, it left him brimming with strength.
This was an ultra-deluxe, top-tier version of the underworld… one from no one knew how many years ago, an underworld that might once genuinely have existed.
This was a ghost domain.
What a pity. A place this miraculously extraordinary had probably vanished long ago, leaving only the dead souls of people from the past to repeat the story of thousands of years ago over and over again, while Qin Shu had somehow been stuffed into it—into a past he was never supposed to know.
Qin Shu was thinking and marveling, while Yi-12, the timid green-faced ghost, grew even paler.
Its impression of Qin Shu seemed absurdly exaggerated. Apparently afraid Qin Shu might fail to understand yet punish it anyway, it once again tugged at its shrill voice and cautiously continued, “This lowly one originally assumed that after such a major disturbance, the Emperor would surely employ thunderous methods. Yet not only was the Dragon-Head Guillotine never summoned, Lord Zhaoyuan was merely imprisoned here for observation… such a light punishment made this lowly one suspect that some exalted immortal must have intervened to protect him. But, my lord, this lowly one carefully investigated on your behalf. No one is protecting him.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, this lowly one is certain! If so, then Lord Zhaoyuan has fallen entirely into your hands, my lord, and there is no need to treat him courteously. We need only infer the Emperor’s intentions. Still, this lowly one truly worries that if the treatment is too cruel and Lord Zhaoyuan completely abandons restraint, threatening death itself, then no matter how sturdy the prison may be, perhaps… perhaps…”
“Speak. What, are you afraid he’ll break out and run away? Ridiculous.” An inexplicable hostility surged through Qin Shu. It was almost an instinctive response from this body, escaping his mouth before he could think.
Qin Shu himself was startled by the bloody implication in his tone and froze slightly. The trembling little ghost nearly lost its soul from terror and hurriedly unleashed a long string of ingratiating flattery, praising Qin Shu’s cruel methods, exceptional strength, and overwhelming authority to the heavens, insisting that a single glare from him would surely force Lord Zhaoyuan to produce a full confession…
Qin Shu ignored it. Seizing the opportunity, he pretended to grow irritated, gave a cold snort, and drove the nearly fainting ghost out of his office.
Yes, this was his office. It looked more like an austere ancient palace ruled by some violently tempered minor prince. There was not only a throne carved from stone and black-and-white Bagua patterns shifting across the vaulted ceiling, but several imposing cloaks carefully tanned from tiger, wolf, and fox pelts stripped from powerful yao, all of them steeped in the scent of death.
Qin Shu sat alone for a while and began to feel cold. His physical senses clearly told him this body was powerful and bursting with vitality, yet his heart felt like a hollow abyss. At some unknown point, his emotional fluctuations had become stiff and muted, leaving only numbness, anger, and killing intent clearly discernible.
Silently, he wrapped one of the cloaks around himself and exhaled. Then he opened a wooden chest carelessly shoved into a corner. Golden light burst out as piles of gold, jade, emeralds, and luminous pearls spilled and clattered inside, dazzlingly bright.
Every treasure was extravagantly ornate and obviously priceless, glittering so intensely that it nearly hurt the eyes. Then pale spiritual light floated before Qin Shu and gradually formed a line of elegantly written characters.
Confiscated property from Lord Zhaoyuan’s residence. With no relatives claiming ownership, it has therefore been transferred into the Warden’s private treasury.
“The Warden…”
Qin Shu thoughtfully returned to the sandalwood desk and began rapidly flipping through the silk case files. At last, he completely figured out his position.
At present, he was the highest-ranking official in Yama’s Hall responsible for prison affairs and the interrogation of major offenders. His official rank was not especially high, but it was absolutely not low either. Regardless of what sort of demon, monster, ghost, or yao a prisoner might be, once they entered Zhoujue Yin Prison, there was effectively no way out and almost no path back.
Unless the prisoner had bribed someone above him, had an immortal personally intervene to pull them out, or received an explicit judgment from the Emperor of Fengdu… all remaining practical authority rested in Qin Shu’s hands alone.
He could use any method he pleased to force prisoners to confess and admit guilt before sending them farther down into the hells, or he could simply leave them imprisoned here as part of a prolonged punishment. Unless his superiors specifically said otherwise, there were not even any performance quotas.
That explained the densely packed torture instruments covering the dark stone walls, and it also answered a question Qin Shu had been wondering about for some time.
Good grief. So he really hadn’t been a good person in his previous life!
Qin Shu pulled the cloak more tightly around himself and gently rubbed the soft fox fur beside his cheek. Suddenly he could no longer sit still.
Lin Shi Yu had sent him into this ghost domain for some particular reason. And the brief description of Lord Zhaoyuan in the case files practically compelled Qin Shu to go see the prisoner himself.
Lord Zhaoyuan was a shen dragon.
A shen dragon who had killed countless people, whose sins were so grave that Heaven had personally dispatched forces to capture him. A shen dragon from thousands of years ago—the mysterious and dangerous older-brother dragon Ao Wang had spoken of.
The greatest crime that had resulted in him being delivered to the Emperor of Fengdu for personal judgment was not even the number of humans he had killed. It was that he had slaughtered too many heavenly soldiers sent to capture him, nearly causing a truly catastrophic upheaval and almost making Heaven and Earth weep blood.
Even if only for Granny A-Shu and Liu Bai Long, Qin Shu had to go see what kind of person this Lord Zhaoyuan was. He sounded extremely difficult to deal with and, just like Qin Shu’s former self, decidedly no good.
Neither of them had been good people. Maybe they’d hit it off immediately.
BOOM—!
Qin Shu casually pushed open the stone doors of his office, producing a heavy rumble like thunder. Yi-12, whom he had chased outside, was unexpectedly still waiting quietly beside the door. When it met Qin Shu’s crimson, emotionless eyes, it instinctively gave an almost imperceptible shiver.
“M-my lord, are you going to…”
“Where’s the one called Zhaoyuan?” Qin Shu never slowed. His heavy cloak trailed along the ground as he allowed his body’s muscle memory to guide him, turning toward the northern side of the deep corridor.
Yi-12 could not tell whether Qin Shu had brought any instruments of punishment and did not dare ask. It hurried along in quick little steps. “My lord, please follow this lowly one!”
The ghost led Qin Shu to the deepest section of the northern prison. This corridor had neither sunlight nor windows. Every ten meters along the walls stood a grotesque carved ghost head containing a blood-red candle, and the lighting was so dim that it felt actively detrimental to mental health, as though the corridor had no end.
Qin Shu remained silent, and Yi-12 dared not make a sound either. Together they passed countless prison cells of varying sizes.
From the corner of his eye, Qin Shu noticed that the cell classifications were extremely detailed, all arranged according to the sequence “Heaven, Earth, Profound, Yellow.” Yellow was the lowest and located farthest outside, while Heaven was the highest and hidden within the deepest darkness of the prison. Clearly, prisoners were assigned according to their level of danger.
Every prison was a single-occupancy cell. Some stood empty and unused, others leaked thick scents of blood and the sounds of weeping, while still others continually emitted low curses and roars, their prisoners spewing obscenities to vent their rage and shouting things like, “You damned sissy green ghost, come eat my □□—”
Elio’s Notes: The supplied raw contains □□ at the end of the prisoner’s shouted insult. The exact missing Chinese characters have not been reconstructed.
…
Yi-12 heard itself being insulted but showed no anger at all. It merely glanced cautiously at Qin Shu’s expression and coughed awkwardly. The prisoner immediately launched into even more furious swearing, only to fall abruptly silent the instant Qin Shu’s aura drew near.
Just how terrifying was he supposed to be? Surely it wasn’t that exaggerated. Qin Shu walked along with a numb expression, but after listening for a while he nearly found the whole thing funny. He almost laughed and had to use every ounce of self-control to maintain his expression.
Of course, once he reached the deepest section, Qin Shu stopped finding anything amusing. Every prisoner in the Heaven-class cells was a notorious super-monster.
Yi-12’s legs trembled visibly before him. Powerful pressure and immense killing intent saturated the air, almost taking physical form as they settled over Qin Shu’s cloak, like invisible hands clutching its hem and trying to drag him little by little into an abyss, or cold, powerful fingers winding around his carotid sinus, closing over his windpipe and gradually tightening.
The Heaven-class cells were designed differently from all the others. Their outer walls were no longer iron bars through which the interiors could be viewed, but heavy stone doors embedded within black walls.
There were no handles to pull or push, nor any iron locks to break. Only a designated wooden identification plaque carrying the proper authority could activate and open them.
The stone doors fit seamlessly against the black walls. Dense defensive formations were carved across both surfaces, their intricate patterns resembling fine iron chains wrapped tightly around every cell. Reflected in the crimson candlelight, they seemed almost to breathe, appearing and disappearing in waves.
Qin Shu’s gaze followed the formation patterns and found that each cell’s design differed slightly, as though every set of defenses had been individually tailored to its prisoner. Even the treasures serving as formation cores varied from cell to cell.
Such extreme caution spoke volumes about how dangerous these prisoners were. None of them concealed their malice. It all rushed directly toward Qin Shu, the oppressive pressure growing heavier by the moment. But… actually, it was manageable?
It felt as though someone had seized his throat and made breathing difficult, but Qin Shu soon realized that he was not breathing at all. His body was in essentially the same state it had been when he first entered Phoenix Village: alive, yet dead at the same time.
No, it was even more extreme than it had been in Phoenix Village. The dense ghostly energy pouring from the gold-and-jade censer, the intense fear radiating from the underworld officers and jailers, and the prisoners’ murderous hatred toward him all gave him an extraordinarily vivid sense of life despite the suffocating pressure. Even dragging the heavy cloak behind him became easier, and his mind grew more alert with every step.
The negative forces that should have corroded flesh and skin were all nourishment this body could devour.
Unfortunately, that invigorating sensation came to an abrupt end at the deepest point of the prison.
Heaven Cell No. 1 was the only silent cell and the only place that projected no active hostility toward Qin Shu. At the core of its defensive formation was a blood-soaked dragon eye.
The silence was so complete it could only be described as eerie. Its unpredictability made it even more dangerous. Qin Shu slowed his steps and tightened his concentration, raising his guard. Yi-12 clearly felt the same way.
“M-my lord, Lord Zhaoyuan is imprisoned here. The Emperor personally bestowed this dragon eye to suppress him, so the confinement should remain secure for the time being.” Yi-12’s shrill voice was flattened by fear into a low tremor. “My lord, perhaps this lowly one could…”
Pretending to be impatient, Qin Shu pulled off his identification plaque and stepped forward, shoulder-checking Yi-12 aside without ceremony. “Enough. Get lost.”
He barely used any force, yet Yi-12 went flying more than ten meters and provoked a wave of laughter from the prisoners.
The cowardly little ghost, however, released an enormous breath of relief. For the first time, its face lit up with genuine joy. It scrambled to its feet and repeatedly bowed. “Thank you, my lord! Thank you, my lord!”
It really, really did not want to see Lord Zhaoyuan.