Green Hair leapt up to the watchtower, scanned the horizon, then hoisted a sedan chair. “Come on, let’s take a look.”
This sedan was a rare artefact, able to pass between the realms of the living and the dead. Only a few days ago it had been used to fetch that insolent boy.
Red Hair shouldered the poles, and the two ghosts set off.
Li Shouyi, chief of Xiantian Village, bustled about calling, “Come on, all of you! A newcomer’s here. Let’s not disgrace Her Ladyship! Strike up the music!”
Children tossed paper money from baskets. Maidens and married women dressed in white and red, holding spirit fans. Men carried divine images and spirit tablets. In a grand procession, they followed the two ghosts.
Paper money drifted through the air.
Black sky, white earth, ruined towers crumbling into decay.
When Chen Zongping awoke, a grey haze lay before his eyes. Half-buried in a mound of paper offerings, he stared blankly at the desolate Divine Kingdom. “Where is this? Shijie?”
From somewhere far off came the wail of pipes and the beat of drums. These sounds, in the stillness of the night, was unnervingly strange.
A gentle wind swept up countless paper slips, like a snowstorm in midwinter.
Amid the swirling “snow”, Chen Zongping shivered, edging back. All his life, his greatest fear had been the dark.
Suddenly, figures appeared on the blackened street. Their shapes flickering and distorted, grinning with eerie delight. Clad in white and crimson, they broke into bloodcurdling shrieks or burst into song, sending a chill to the bone. Little dark shadows scattered paper money as they capered and spun, closing in on him at speed.
Chen Zongping’s breath quickened; his lips trembled.
The dark was his second-greatest fear. Ghosts were his first.
Red Hair and Green Hair led the surging crowd to the paper mound. But there was nothing in sight save the whiteness. Where was the living soul?
Just as they were wondering, Li Shouyi exclaimed, “Uh-oh, my lord, I’ve stepped on something!”
The women, in high spirits of late, were all smiles, bright and guileless. “Why’s he hiding in there? Come on, help dig him out… Hey, he’s burrowing in. Grab his legs, pull him out!”
Together they hauled forth a wide-eyed, handsome youth from the paper heap.
Red Hair gave a start. “A cultivator… and dead, at that!”
Green Hair sniffed the air, then grinned. “Smells of that boy’s talisman, doesn’t he? Hey, I told you anyone who stirs the Spirit Tribunal must be one of Her Ladyship’s people. And just so happens, our Tribunal is short of a constable!”
Li Shouyi was equally delighted. “And my niece is short a husband!”
One ghost and one man took the bewildered Chen Zongping by the arms and marched him back in triumph. Passing the Gazing Terrace, he suddenly cried out, tears streaming down his face.
“Shijie!”
By the Great Loch, the lone girl trudging along with a corpse on her back faltered, turning her head. “Zongping?”
She bent low, peering at his face. A corpse could not speak; its lashes lay obediently closed.
“Were you calling me?”
Ah Zhu’s lips curved faintly. She hitched him higher and began climbing the mountain, murmuring, “You like flowers. Jiejie will find you a place with flowers.”
“Shijie!”
She stopped again, glancing back in puzzled hesitation.
Then, she heard the sound of the tide. Ah Zhu looked down at the loch. The rippling waters stilled, smooth as a bronze mirror. In them, she glimpsed a blurred figure, weeping openly at her.
The reflection vanished……
…and ripples spread across the surface.
Ah Zhu sank to her knees, staring blankly into the shimmering expanse. “There really… is a Goddess…”
In the darkness of the Divine Kingdom, a speck of gold appeared. Guided by a thread of cause and effect, it pierced layer upon layer of ward, slipping past raging winds, Dao seals, and Dao locks, until it sank to the very depths—alighting at the feet of a colossal stone statue, kindling one tiny light among a thousand stars.
……
Liuyun Peak, Zhaixing Cliff.
Xue Zhenzhen was taking tea. The sky arched clear and high; clouds drifted light; the waters lay utterly still.
Her plain robe was unadorned; her brows were keen as blades.
She lifted her sleeve to pour tea, pale-gold liquid filling the celadon cup. Three people sat before her, yet only one cup was set out. Two had come to demand answers; the third, to make a complaint.
The elder in a purple robe glanced towards Sword Immortal dozing among the blossoms. “Immortal, the golden lotus of the Celestial Pool withered overnight. In the next millennium, it is my Taiyi Sect’s turn to use it. You must give us an account of this matter.”
Xue Zhenzhen poured, drank, and set down her cup with a sharp clack. “I know. And what do you mean to do about it?”
The purple-robed elder: “…”
She turned to the other side. “Elder Bai of Taiyi Sect. What brings you again?”
The woman was Bai Qianmei, a Celestial realm cultivator, famed for decades, yet still uneasy before the master of the Dragon Might Sword.
“Swordmaster Xue, your son Xue Cuo, without cause, injured my daughter Bai Luoluo, seized her Wendao Pills, and damaged her Dao foundation.”
Xue Zhenzhen regarded her evenly. “And you tell me this to make me pity your daughter?”
Bai Qianmei’s face darkened to greenish hue, her smile tight. “…I am here to seek justice.”
Xue Zhenzhen drained another cup, but left the question unanswered. Instead she smiled faintly. “Of late, many have come to speak to me of fairness and justice. In my view, they are all utter nonsense.”
Sword Immortal’s face stiffened; he rubbed his nose and sighed.
Xue Zhenzhen gave a cold laugh. “Wendao Palace is for children to put their questions. What happens inside is none of my concern.”
Bai Xianmei: “Truly?”
Xue Zhenzhen flicked her sleeve. “Indeed. And I’m certain it’s fair. But if you wish to meddle in a squabble between juniors, then celestial realm against celestial realm. I’ll oblige you at any time.”
Bai Xianmei: “……” What an utterly unreasonable woman! Thousands of years on, and she’s still exactly the same!
The conversation ended sourly.
Sword Immortal leapt down from the flowering tree and approached Xue Zhenzhen. “Has the injury on your shoulder healed?”
Xue Zhenzhen touched it lightly. “Mm.”
The two stood in silence for a while before Xue Zhenzhen spoke. “A few days ago, I went to Qianlong Abyss. The seal on that evil god has loosened a little. The surrounding villages have turned into ghostly demesnes, overrun with demons.”
Sword Immortal: “Why haven’t the nearby immortal sects reported it?”
Xue Zhenzhen’s tone was cool. “It was deliberately unsealed. What else is there to say? No one can find the culprit, and the sects are all shirking responsibility.”
Sword Immortal understood. “So… who up above is trying to chalk up a feat of merit? It seems the opening of the Path to Immortality is almost upon us again. This time it’s been only a little over a thousand years… not too long. But the mortal realm is in for another great calamity… Without disaster, there’s no merit; without hardship, there’s no ascension.”
Xue Zhenzhen’s thoughts matched his own. “I’ve done my utmost to reseal it, but I can’t block the methods of those above.”
The great current of heaven and earth can be severed by no one. The mortal world, long at peace, was about to see war rise again.
The Sword Immortal stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing over mountains and rivers stretching for miles. The two stood there, their robes fluttering, black ink against water, until he suddenly said, “Shall I go with you to Qianlong Abyss?”
Xue Zhenzhen nodded. “Alright.”
……
Xue Cuo knew nothing of this. He had been in the bamboo grove with Kong Yun, debating the Dao for quite some time. Kong Yun felt his mind grow clear, with the faint sense of being on the verge of another breakthrough.
He rummaged in Xue Cuo’s pocket and pulled out a sheaf of talisman paper. “Did you feed me some sort of elixir?”
Xue Cuo squirmed at the ticklish touch, batted Kong Yun’s hand away, and spat, “Where would I get an elixir?”
“I think I’m about to break through again! Why so fast?!”
Xue Cuo looked genuinely puzzled. “What’s so difficult about a breakthrough? I once woke from a nap to find I’d reached the twelfth level of the Spirit Platform.”
Kong Yun’s mouth twitched. He gave Xue Cuo a hearty smack on the shoulder. “Learn all your characters first, genius.”
Xue Cuo blew out puffs of cloud, big and small, then pulled Kong Yun down to lie beside him, tucked in the blanket, and yawned. “Learning to read’s nothing. Once I’ve had a nap, I’ll recite the Thousand Character Classic for you.”
Kong Yun sat up. “I don’t want to sleep.”
“Did you hear me? I don’t want to sleep.”
“Xue Cuo.”
“I haven’t done my daily exercises yet. A demon mustn’t be lazy and I’ve got a plan.”
“I’m cultivating in my dreams,” Xue Cuo said lazily.
Kong Yun lay down at once, a flicker of doubt and hope crossing his face. He pulled the blanket up and stared wide-eyed at the bamboo grove.
An hour later, Xue Cuo was shaken awake. He blinked blearily at Kong Yun’s solemn expression, rubbed his eyes. “What is it?”
Bai Luoluo stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her face pale… yet Xue Cuo saw her cultivation had not only recovered from its drop, but risen into the mid-stage of the Original Void Stage.
“Xue Cuo.”
He instinctively covered his nose. Bai Luoluo’s face darkened. She remembered how she’d been deceived by his Dao image, her state of mind collapsing and fury welled up anew. She should have known there was something wrong with those Wendao Pills! It was him, his Dao was evil!
Xue Cuo eyed her warily. “What are you planning?”
Bai Luoluo still burned with resentment, her mother’s scolding stoking the flames. Sword Immortal? He wasn’t an elder of her sect. Dragon Might Swordmaster? Couldn’t so much as touch a hair on her head.
To bully with rank was contemptible.
Yet she reflected that there was no need for her and Xue Cuo to be mortal enemies. She only wanted to recover her lost pride.
Her expression smoothed, her tone deceptively calm. “Today was my fault. But I’d like to deliberate on the Dao with you again. A contest of understanding, nothing more.”
Kong Yun sneered. “Original Void Stage against Spirit Void Stage?”
Bai Luoluo said evenly, “It’s only a scholarly duel… a test of Dao comprehension. If you don’t dare, then pour me tea as an apology.”
Xue Cuo blinked. “How do we compete?”
Kong Yun tugged him back in disapproval, but Xue Cuo shook his head.
Bai Luoluo smiled faintly. “This time I’ll win openly. At noon tomorrow, on the Dao Discussion Platform at Golden Cloud Peak in Wendao Palace. If you lose, you’ll abolish one level of your cultivation right there and then. What do you think?”
Xue Cuo puffed out his stomach and called after her, “Jiejie, what if you lose?”
She glanced back, cold. “Lose? Hah.”
Xue Cuo stepped forward, pointing a finger. “If you lose, you’ll agree to do one thing for me. We’ll seal it with a high five and a Great Dao Oath.”
Bai Luoluo’s lips curved; she lightly slapped his palm.
Zhuo Qingyuan and Lang Cui lurked nearby. Zhuo muttered, “Will this work? Don’t set up Bai Luoluo again. She’s still my eldest shijie.”
Lang Cui replied, “Call it paying back the favour you did me for that introduction. That Xu Youyu’s not bad.”
