Chapter Thirty: The Underworld Envoy

In his hand, Xu Cheng held a black pill, but he did not rush to swallow it. At that moment, the female ghost bound by the Underworld Flame Chains ceased struggling, as though resigned to her fate. She closed her eyes, awaiting judgment.

“What is your name?” Xu Cheng’s voice broke the silence.

The female ghost’s lashes fluttered, then she opened her eyes and softly replied, “Cen Ningyue.”

Suddenly, several lines of text appeared on the Underworld Token in Xu Cheng’s hand:

Cen Ningyue, resident of Weishui Town, has accumulated 100 merits, bears no sin or crime.

“All who die must enter the Underworld, pass through reincarnation, and return once more to the mortal realm. I am an emissary of the Underworld. Cen Ningyue, I see you have merit upon your soul. Would you become a ghost warden, thus spared from the suffering of reincarnation?”

These simple lines echoed in Xu Cheng’s mind. He had originally intended to let Cen Ningyue serve as a guide, but seeing the token reveal her virtuous past, he thought it best to offer her the role of ghost warden.

“A ghost warden? I... I am willing!” To his surprise, Cen Ningyue agreed at once, though Xu Cheng had intended to further persuade her. Now, it was unnecessary.

The Underworld Token’s records stated that if one voluntarily accepted the post of ghost warden, it was enough to take a wisp of their soul, whereupon a ghost warden’s token would automatically form.

With a gesture across the air, Xu Cheng drew forth a wisp of Cen Ningyue’s soul and placed it into the Underworld Token. Immediately, gentle white light radiated forth, and a new white token, half the size of the Underworld Token and inscribed with the words “Ghost Warden,” emerged.

He handed the token to Cen Ningyue and waited patiently as she examined it. After the time it takes half a stick of incense to burn, Cen Ningyue understood the token’s use. From within it, she summoned a set of garments: a white tall hat, a mourning robe, a staff taller than a man, and a heavy iron chain.

The phrase drifted through Xu Cheng’s mind: “Vengeful spirits are led away, souls claimed by the envoy of impermanence... White Impermanence.”

So the Ghost Warden’s Token contained such attire—did his Underworld Token hold similar secrets? Until now, he had only paid attention to the token’s information and not to any hidden chamber within. Sinking his mind into the token’s space, he indeed found a set of clothes for himself.

His outfit was a suit of black combat attire, a bamboo hat, a black cloak, and a long blade. Fully armed, he not only looked formidable; his entire presence transformed, exuding an air of grim authority.

“Lord Envoy, what shall we do next?” Cen Ningyue, freshly appointed, was eager to prove herself.

“By the way, are there any powerful spirits nearby?” Xu Cheng, now equipped for battle, brimmed with confidence—even a cultivator at the Golden Core stage might not prevail against him.

“Powerful ones?” Cen Ningyue thought for a moment. “Come with me!”

She set off in a determined direction, leading Xu Cheng and Lord Chrysanthemum along a rural path. The journey passed in silence. Chrysanthemum rubbed his hands together, seeming eager to show his skill should a formidable ghost appear.

“It’s just up ahead, in that funeral parlor!” Cresting a hill, Cen Ningyue pointed to a house below.

“Who dares disturb my rest?” Before Xu Cheng could act, their foe burst forth. The creature was neither man nor beast—a monstrous sight, likely the result of devouring livestock and their souls alive.

Its head bore ram’s horns, the face that of a horse, hands like a chicken’s claws, legs those of a dog, and its torso resembled that of a wild boar—grotesque indeed.

“I’ll eat you all!” With bloodshot eyes, it charged at Xu Cheng and his companions.

“Ink-Stained Stars!” Lord Chrysanthemum struck first, his itch for action plain. Xu Cheng pulled Cen Ningyue aside to watch as Lord Chrysanthemum displayed his art. The calligrapher’s brush flicked through the air, sending a flurry of ink dots hurtling toward the beast.

Each ink dot weighed more than a hundred pounds, yet the monster fended them off with its brute body alone. Its flesh was astoundingly tough.

But Lord Chrysanthemum’s attack was but a probe, not his full strength.

“Grass-Style Sword Script!” Seizing the moment while the ink dots hindered the beast, Lord Chrysanthemum’s brush danced even faster. Each stroke became a razor-sharp sword mark, surging in waves toward their foe.

The monster had intended to withstand the assault, but the swift and keen ink-blade cuts opened deep gashes across its body.

“Aaargh!” The creature howled in pain; indeed, the Grass-Style Sword Script was formidable.

At last, Lord Chrysanthemum swept his brush in a long, final stroke, unleashing a mighty sword mark straight for the monster’s head.

If that thing died, Xu Cheng would lose the Underworld’s reward!

Reacting swiftly, he conjured a wall of earth with his Minor Earth Creation Art, blocking the blow, then cast the Underworld Flame Chains, ensnaring the creature and dragging it into the Gate of the Underworld.

“Sacrifice!” Xu Cheng uttered the word, and to his delight, the offering yielded another black pill.

“Envoy, that beast should have fallen to my blade. How did it become yours?” Lord Chrysanthemum complained.

“What does it matter who lands the final blow?” Xu Cheng chuckled, then turned to Cen Ningyue. “Let’s keep searching for those spirits and send them into the Underworld!”

“Yes, Lord Envoy!” Cen Ningyue beamed with joy.

While the three of them hunted monsters, Qiong the Old Devil found himself in grave danger, confronted by none other than the Martial Emperor of Great Xia, Xia Hao, and Marquis Wu Wenhou, Qu Wenbei.

Upon learning that his True Immortal Scroll had been repurposed by the man before him, Xia Hao’s fury boiled over.

He had thought the scroll would be safe with Lü Tai—how could his carefully laid plans fall apart?

Qing Shu, knowing he could not help, had already gone in search of Yun Sheng.

“You must die.” The words escaped Xia Hao’s clenched teeth.

“Haha! I’ve already offered the True Immortal Scroll in sacrifice! How does that make you feel?” Qiong the Old Devil sneered.

“Let’s see if you can keep laughing.” The Martial Emperor’s body began to change, taking on a draconic form.

Qu Wenbei underwent a similar transformation.

One became a golden dragon, the other a silver.

With thunderous roars, the two dragons let loose their rage. Qiong the Old Devil glanced over his shoulder, a sly smile barely flickering across his face.

“You think only you possess immortal arts? Underworld Hou Tu Immortal Art!”

As he chanted, his porcelain-like body shattered, revealing white bones, and a torrent of black energy surged around him.

The immortal art activated, and Qiong’s body regenerated, though now wholly male again, his skin an ashen blue-gray, like a corpse.

“An Underworld dweller!” Xia Hao and Qu Wenbei exchanged a glance, resolving themselves.

The two dragons, each over a hundred yards long, suddenly shrank, assuming half-human, half-dragon forms—their most powerful state.

The golden half-dragon Xia Hao wielded a blade nearly two meters long, its body silver-black and flecked with crimson light—surely the Dragon Sparrow Blade. Marquis Wu’s silver spear had been broken in their last encounter; lacking a suitable weapon, he would have to fight barehanded.

“Kill!” The two roared, draconic phantoms swirling behind them, and launched a joint assault—one golden beam, one silver—at Qiong the Old Devil.

The old fiend leapt high, slamming his palms downward. Two colossal black hands materialized, pressing down upon Xia Hao and Qu Wenbei.

Xia Hao’s long blade tore through the spectral hand and, undeterred, struck at Qiong in midair.

Qu Wenbei, fighting to break free with his own dragon claws, found the going much harder.