Chapter 26

Thick fog enveloped the air, chilling to the bone.

Mu Gesheng threw a coin and kicked away the ghoul before him. Standing on the Yin-Yang staircase, a faint green glow surrounded him.

The Yin-Yang staircase led straight from the living world to Fengdu, winding back and forth nine times. The journey was quite long. He hurried along but had covered less than half the distance, yet he had already slain several fierce ghosts along the way. These spirits never left Fengdu under normal circumstances. Mu Gesheng had traveled the Yin-Yang staircase multiple times before but had never seen anything appear on the stairs.

The fact that a hundred ghosts were scattering now proved that chaos had already broken out within Fengdu City.

Mu Gesheng felt a faint worry. Charging in recklessly was indeed underestimating the enemy. With Song Wentong absent, he couldn’t light the small heavenly lantern and could only take them down one by one. Moreover, as he ventured deeper, more and more ghosts appeared. He couldn’t let these creatures escape upward; he had to intercept and kill them on the spot. At the same time, he had to keep moving downward, all the way to the bottom, to shut off the Yin-Yang ladder.

As for how he would get out after shutting it off, or what the situation inside Fengdu would be—Mu Gesheng pinched a coin talisman to subdue one ghost, then kicked another down the long ladder.

He had no time to care about that now.

The fog grew thicker and heavier, the moisture seeming to coalesce into shape, like slippery hands pulling people to a standstill. Mu Gesheng gradually lost sight of his surroundings; everywhere was fog, with only the stairs stretching endlessly downward.

He suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Something was wrong, something was clearly wrong.

At the same time, Fengdu, West Gate of the city.

From above, looking down, the ghost soldiers of Abizhi all emerged, but unlike the usual solemn and austere scene, they surged against the walls of the Western Gate like an assault on a fortress.

On the battlements stood various ghost commanders and demon kings, leading their ghost soldiers and generals in defense and battle. The earth shook, mountains trembled, and stones shattered with thunderous roars. Fierce ghosts howled, horses neighed wildly, and gusts of chilling wind formed whirlpools, turning the Western Gate into a battlefield akin to the realm of Asura.

“Hold steady! Everyone hold steady!” Cui Ziyu stood atop the city wall, swaying in the fierce wind. “Press down on the southeast! Don’t let the formation break!”

High above, several figures hovered—Ten Kings of the Underworld, along with Wu Nie and Wu Zixu.

One of the Kings spoke, “This move of yours, sir, saves Fengdu from fire and water.”

“I’m a dead man; I don’t care about such things,” Wu Nie stood midair, cracking sunflower seeds as he looked at those beside him. “Once this formation is activated, all the ghosts will emerge, and Fengdu’s crisis can be resolved. But you’ll be trapped—have you thought this through?”

“Fengdu must not be trapped,” Wu Zixu shook his head. “Please set up the formation.”

“Living in hell, yet unaware of Avici,” Wu Nie spat out a melon seed shell, his red mouth and white teeth calm and indifferent. “If you ask me, a fight would be just right. Fengdu is getting more and more crowded, and the King of Hell’s palace can’t manage it. It’s the perfect chance for the ghost soldiers to clear the place out.”

The girl’s words were like a glaring slap, yet the Kings of Hell showed no anger, only saying, “Sir, think carefully.”

“You all really should think carefully. If what’s inside the pass gets out, it won’t necessarily obey the orders of the Ten Kings of Hell. By then, no one’s seat in Fengdu will be secure.” Wu Nie gave Wu Zixu a half-smile, half-sneer. “Including the Wu clan, right?”

Wu Zixu remained silent, only bowing deeply to Wu Nie.

Wu Nie looked at him and sighed, "How can one find a perfect solution in this world? Since ancient times, loyalty and filial piety have been hard to reconcile—enough, unfilial child."

Before the words had fully fallen, Wu Nie suddenly leapt into the air, soaring above the battlefield. With both hands weaving intricate seals, a complex pattern formed, and in an instant, a glowing flower ball appeared out of thin air.

Wu Nie bowed once more and leapt again. Above the western city gate, the thick clouds parted layer by layer. She stood alone at a great height, her slender waist bending gracefully, nodding and lifting her head like a girl performing a hundred acts in the realm of the Forgotten River ghosts, playing with a flower ball atop the twelve layers of cases.

The sounds of battle were all like silk and bamboo instruments, breaking through formations as they danced.

Cui Ziyu looked up at the figure in midair, rough golden light outlining flames, sketching a burning red.

Finally, Wu Nie tossed the bouquet into the air, which soared skyward and exploded into a crimson lotus in midair. Wu Nie sat cross-legged in the heart of the flower, one hand pointing to the sky, the other to the earth, as golden seal script characters floated around. The lotus slowly bloomed from bud to full blossom.

The world believed only the Jinwu Lantern could ignite the endless night of Fengdu, but now the lotus blossomed in midair, radiating flowing light and color, brilliantly bright as daylight.

At the same time, a great formation blazed up beneath the western city gate, its light intertwining with the other, enveloping countless shadow soldiers within. The world fell silent, yet the brilliance shone like a flood.

The Ten Kings of Hell stood atop the city walls, bowing their heads and kowtowing in unison.

Wu Zixu looked up into the air and whispered, "In the eternal night of the netherworld, the Grand Duke stamps his foot and sits upon the lotus."

"Boundless within."

Cui Ziyu stood outside the city gate, bowing deeply toward the radiant heights above. Behind him, tens of thousands of ghosts knelt, stretching endlessly.

After a long while, the lotus flowers withered, the light dimmed, and Fengdu City was once again shrouded in darkness.

Inside the west gate of the city, everything was empty; the shadow soldiers had all vanished without a trace.

Mu Gesheng heard the sound of dripping water.

At first, he thought he had arrived at the banks of the Wangchuan River, but the thick fog still lingered all around. The fog by the Wangchuan River would never be this dense. Mu Gesheng looked around and realized that, at some unknown moment, the ghosts that had been constantly entangling him had all vanished without a trace.

Vengeful spirits carry deep resentment and do not dissipate easily. The chaos in Fengdu was the perfect opportunity for them to roam freely. Now, their sudden disappearance meant either the turmoil in Fengdu had been resolved, or they were deliberately avoiding something.

Silence enveloped the surroundings, broken only by the continuous sound of dripping water.

Tick, tick, tick.

Tick, tick,

Tick.

The sound of water seemed to come from ahead, yet also seemed to surround him from all directions. Mu Gesheng descended a few steps cautiously, reaching out his hand forward, only to find it icy cold.

What he touched was not a source of water, but some hard material, rough like leather. Mu Gesheng’s eyes shifted sharply; he quickly withdrew, and in the next moment, a blade sliced through the thick fog, swinging straight down at the very spot where he had just stood—

What he had just touched was a suit of armor!

Mu Gesheng’s mind went blank in an instant. There were no shortage of armored ghost officials in Fengdu, but connecting the recent events together, the only possibility that came to his mind immediately was—Yin Soldiers!

He forced himself to turn his head and saw the bluestone steps cracked, a bronze greatsword slashing across them, the hilt roaring, yet no one wielded the blade. The Yin-Yang stairs were built from the bluestone of the Nine Hells, cold and hard, far from something ordinary iron could break. Before Mu Gesheng could catch his breath, the steps beneath him trembled violently, and a thunderous sound of hooves echoed from deep underground, mingled faintly with the clatter of wooden clappers.

In an instant, Mu Gesheng’s face changed. Armor, bronze sword, hooves, clappers— even if he were an idiot, he could piece it together. Without a doubt, the Yin Soldiers who were supposed to riot inside the West Gate of the city had, for some unknown reason, strayed all the way to the Yin-Yang stairs!

The Yin-Yang Staircase lies by the banks of the Wangchuan River, far from the Abyss. For the Yin soldiers to break through, they would have to cross the entire Fengdu City. What exactly is happening inside Fengdu?

The Ten Kings of Hell, the Ten Yin Marshals, the Four Great Judges, and the Yin-Yang Guardians—none of them could stop it?

Mu Gesheng dared not delay. Facing the Yin soldiers, he had no chance of victory. Just as he was about to withdraw swiftly, he suddenly halted—

He retreated, but with an entire city’s populace above him, who would protect them?

If he did not retreat, Mu Gesheng knew very well that he would inevitably be defeated.

At the critical moment, Mu Gesheng’s mind raced. The urgent task was to absolutely prevent the shadow soldiers from ascending the Yin-Yang ladder to reach the mortal world. He could not turn back; he had to keep moving downward, all the way to the bottom, close the Yin-Yang ladder, and trap the shadow soldiers between the countless stone steps, thus buying a slim chance of survival.

There was no other way. The sound of hooves was already within an arrow’s range. Mu Gesheng pulled back, adjusted his breathing, and pressed several acupoints. This was a technique he had learned from Song Wentong, which could sharpen the five senses, increase speed and agility, and accelerate the heart’s blood supply to the entire body, making one mentally exhilarated. But it had a drawback: the sensation of pain would be doubled.

The iron cavalry running at the front was already very close. Mu Gesheng bent down and kicked the horse’s belly. The warhorse was startled, and the shadow soldier on it fell to the ground. Seizing the opportunity, Mu Gesheng grabbed the reins and threw two flower coins—one smashed the shadow soldier’s head, the other was stuffed into the warhorse’s mouth. The shadow soldier was subdued by the mountain ghost’s flower coins, motionless. Mu Gesheng drew the □□ from the opponent’s hand, mounted the warhorse, slashed off the head of the shadow soldier behind him with one stroke, then swung his hand back, cutting a dazzling green arc through the air, severing the front warhorse’s leg.

Mu Gesheng understood that he could not face the shadow soldiers in direct combat; he was not skilled with cold weapons and could only swing them along their momentum. If that slash had come from Song Wentong’s hand, it would have been enough to overturn all the iron cavalry within a zhang. But Mu Gesheng’s tactic was to cleverly sever the horse’s leg, and as the shadow soldier fell, he would slip through. His goal was not to fight head-on but to create chaos—both to block the shadow soldiers’ advance and to seize an opportunity for himself.

Seeing the shadow soldiers in disarray ahead, Mu Gesheng spurred his horse into the formation. Normally, this would be tantamount to suicide, but these shadow soldiers seemed to have just come through a fierce battle and were somewhat weakened. Clenching a Mountain Ghost coin between his teeth, he dodged attacks from all sides, but close combat was not his strength. Before long, his body was covered in wounds, the deepest a slash across his waist, blood flowing freely.

Run—run desperately. Mu Gesheng urged his warhorse forward with the Mountain Ghost coin; man and horse were almost a blur.

The doubled pain lashed at his nerves, but Mu Gesheng fought to stay conscious. He calculated the distance all the way; the remaining Yin-Yang ladder was not far now. Once he reached the bottom, he could forcibly seal the long ladder with the Mountain Ghost coin. But in the next moment, Mu Gesheng suddenly felt darkness overhead—a massive shadow pressing down on him! It was an extraordinarily tall shadow soldier, riding a black warhorse, leaping into the air and stomping down fiercely on his head!

Mu Gesheng didn’t have time to steer his warhorse away and hurriedly pulled the coin from the horse’s mouth. He rolled off just in time to avoid the trampling hooves, crashing onto the bluestone steps and tumbling down a long way, finally hitting his head against a bronze lampstand.

Mu Gesheng’s face was covered in blood as he mustered all his strength to stand. He knew he had reached the end—this bronze lampstand marked the limit of the Yin-Yang Staircase. Not far off, the sound of water could be heard; it was the Wangchuan River.

The Yin soldiers who had been chasing him reined in their horses nearby. A sinister, mocking laugh echoed, as if someone was laughing secretly. Through a haze, Mu Gesheng saw a figure raising a blade in a throwing motion, aiming straight for his head.

He spat out the coin from his mouth, accompanied by a mouthful of blood. Then, dipping his index finger in the blood, he quickly traced a complex talisman on the ground. A sharp, piercing whistle sounded in the air, heading straight for his forehead. Mu Gesheng had no time to dodge and shouted fiercely, “Close!”

In the next moment, a heart-wrenching pain surged from above his head, and Mu Gesheng’s vision went black as he completely lost consciousness.

He heard the sound of a wooden clapper.

A heavy snowfall drifted from the sky, and as far as the eye could see, everything was pure white.

Mu Gesheng lay in the snow, hearing a song rise from the ground—soft and lingering, sometimes distant, sometimes near, at times like threads and strands, at others like water and waves.

The vast heavens and earth, entrusted to a single cup.

The sun and moon drift endlessly, filling a single sleeve.

Mountains and rivers grand and vast, captured in a single brushstroke.

All beings hesitate, a fleeting life lasting but a day.

Where am I? Mu Gesheng struggled to sit up and found himself wearing white wide sleeves. The world around him was empty, with nothing but white snow and a long song, accompanied by faint sounds of clappers.

Am I dead? Mu Gesheng thought. After the death of the Heavenly Calculator, the soul disperses and does not enter reincarnation. Could this be the final resting place?

No, that’s not right. He realized he was not yet the Heavenly Calculator. Then what is this place?

Mu Gesheng sat still for a moment, then looked up at the sky and saw that it was not snow falling, but a sky full of paper money.

Paper money scattered like snow upon the ground; the world was silent, pure and white.

After a moment, he suddenly leapt up and dashed toward the source of the clapper’s sound. Barefoot, he ran through the snow, his footprints winding along the path, soon swallowed by the falling flakes.

The song lingered long and clear. Mu Gesheng lost track of time, feeling neither cold nor fatigue. At last, at the edge of his vision, he saw a figure holding a wooden clapper, sleeves billowing, repeatedly chanting the same four lines of song.

When Mu Gesheng finally caught up, before he could speak, the figure asked, “Where do you come from? Where are you going?”

"I come from the River of Forgetfulness," Mu Gesheng paused, then said, "I wish to go to the mortal world."

After an unknown amount of time, the man in white struck the wooden clapper in his hand and slowly sang a line.

"Spirit, return—"

Suddenly awakened, Mu Gesheng jolted upright.

The sound of water trickled gently, the green lantern flickered.

“Awake?” The person rowing ahead turned his head. “How do you feel?”

Mu Gesheng had just sat up abruptly, dizzy and disoriented. It took him a long moment to clearly see the person before him—it was Wu Nie. The other was rowing the boat, surrounded by blooming green lotuses; they must be in Wangchuan.

“What is this…” Mu Gesheng looked down at himself. He was wrapped up like half a zongzi, with hardly any part of his body unscathed. He tried to move his arm, and a sharp pain shot through it.

“A few days ago, you fought a fierce battle against the shadow soldiers and barely closed the Yin-Yang ladder, but the gap between you was too great. You overestimated yourself and ultimately died from severe injuries.” Wu Nie said casually, “Since we’ve met, I’ll escort you across the River of Forgetfulness, into the King of Hell’s palace, and may you be born into a good family next life.”

“Sir, please stop joking. Whose dead don’t get laid out? Wrapped in bandages and then buried.” Mu Ge groaned, rubbing his head. “How long have I been unconscious? What exactly happened?”

“Boring kid.” Wu Nie rolled his eyes, rowing the boat as he spoke, “You’ve been asleep for seven days. Luckily, you stuffed that Mountain Ghost flower in your mouth to keep you alive. That kid from the Medicine family personally treated your wounds, and you’ve just started to improve. Otherwise, you’d probably be bedridden for a year or more.”

“Three nine days? Where is he?”

“I just hurried over to Fengdu, treated your wounds, and then left. All the sons are busy now.”

“I saw the shadow soldiers at the Yin-Yang Staircase. What exactly is going on?”

“That, ah, was done by our family.”

“What did you say?!”

"Our family is the Tai Sui, having taken residence in Fengdu centuries ago. As elders of the Yin-Yang sect, we also have the duty to guard Fengdu," Wu Nie said. "On the twentieth day of the ninth lunar month, the Yin soldiers will break through the gates, and Fengdu will inevitably be ravaged. Therefore, I intervened, using a great formation to transfer all the rebellious Yin soldiers into the Yin-Yang Ladder."

"Do you even realize what consequences this will bring?!"

"I do, but it only costs five hundred years of cultivation."

Wu Nie looked at the choked Mu Gesheng and raised an eyebrow. "Alright, I get what you mean. Sending the Yin soldiers into the Yin-Yang Ladder is like diverting the disaster from Fengdu eastward, and the mortal world will surely suffer."

Mu Gesheng didn’t know what to say. Weighing the pros and cons, both sides were well aware.

And he could probably guess the reason why Wu Nie acted this way.

“The Yin-Yang Ladder is sealed, cutting off the path from the mortal world to Fengdu, but by going against the current of the Wangchuan River, one can still return to the mortal realm,” Wu Nie said. “You’ve exhausted too much energy; the power you can wield from the mountain ghost flowers is less than one in ten thousand. Last time, you barely managed to seal the Yin-Yang Ladder, but it won’t hold for long.”

“...How much time do I have left?”

"You've been unconscious for seven days. There's about half a month left before the ghost soldiers break through the seal," Wu Nie said. "Whether to advance or retreat, to leave or stay, you should prepare early."

"What do you mean?"

"You understand," Wu Nie glanced back at Mu Gesheng. "The ghost soldiers' uprising has even left the Ten Yama Kings helpless. The land of Avici holds a thousand years of accumulated grudges; nothing can suppress it. Only slaughter can resolve it."

"With the strength of just one city, it's impossible for you to hold out."