Chapter Seventy-Three: Hell

Xu Cheng remained silent, his mind occupied with what Chrysanthemum had spoken of—the hell. Ordinarily, in such circumstances, he would have simply sacrificed those two ghosts laden with sin. Yet, for them, this seemed unjust, for sacrifice meant utter annihilation of the soul, leaving not even a chance at rebirth. Punishment in hell, however, offered the possibility of returning to the cycle of reincarnation.

There was another crucial reason: Xu Cheng did not know how to consign them to hell. Was hell, like sacrifice and reincarnation, governed by a thread of heavenly principle?

As he pondered, Xu Cheng spoke, “Do any of you object?”

They all shook their heads, save for the ghost wreathed in flames, who, as the others awaited Xu Cheng’s verdict, suddenly rebelled. His fire surged skyward, seeking escape from Chrysanthemum’s grasp. But Chrysanthemum, after all, was a cultivator of the Primordial Spirit realm; the chains of the ghost warden held fast. The flames themselves were insignificant. Just as he prepared to annihilate the soul with a spell, Xu Cheng acted first, conjuring a chain of Netherfire that ignored the warden’s artifact chains, dragging the ghost into the Yellow Springs and sacrificing him.

A ray of golden merit emerged from the Yellow Springs.

Xu Cheng, who had previously not understood this golden light, played with it for a moment before realizing its value: it represented merit. With enough merit, one could even exchange it in the Yellow Springs for methods to cultivate immortal arts.

“Behave yourselves. Those who do not will face utter annihilation, losing even the chance to be reborn!”

Chrysanthemum uttered this cold warning; instantly, the remaining "people" fell silent with fear.

As Chrysanthemum rebuked them, Xu Cheng used the merit’s golden glow to sense the heavenly principle of hell. His mind was a blank void, unable to catch the faintest trace of hell’s aura. Yet, as the golden light gradually dissolved, the once vague vision of hell became clearer. By the time the light vanished completely, Xu Cheng at last “saw” hell’s entire form.

There were eighteen layers: the Mountain of Blades, the Sea of Fire, the Tongue-Pulling Hell, the Iron Tree Hell, the Mirror of Retribution Hell, the Steaming Basket Hell, the Copper Pillar Hell…

Each layer was filled with ghosts suffering punishment for their grave sins.

Xu Cheng’s prolonged silence created immense pressure for those below.

After comprehending the principle of hell, Xu Cheng pondered briefly, then declared, “Send Hong Juli to the Sea of Fire Hell for punishment!”

His Netherfire chains appeared suddenly, using a thread of hell’s principle to connect with the underworld, casting Hong Juli into the Sea of Fire Hell. Xu Cheng watched as the man tried to escape, only for several ghost wardens within hell to lash him back inside. Hong Juli wailed in agony, unable to endure.

Even without looking, Xu Cheng could almost hear the screams echoing from hell.

“Next, you three will enter reincarnation.”

He glanced at the trio.

“Sir, could you speak for us? Otherwise, we shall die with unresolved grievances, carrying hatred even into reincarnation!”

The girl named Daocha bowed, wishing Xu Cheng would immediately kill the Primordial Spirit cultivators.

“Very well. If you are reborn with lingering resentment, it will affect the cycle. Tonight, I intend to eliminate them. Do you know their exact whereabouts?”

Xu Cheng asked after a moment’s thought.

“We do. Their residence is not far, just behind the Guiyu Tower ahead!”

Han Lin answered.

“That is good. Tonight, I will avenge you.”

Seeing Xu Cheng promise, the dark aura emanating from the three weakened considerably.

With Yan Mengdie and Chrysanthemum watching over the trio, Xu Cheng left to locate the others’ position. He crossed paths with busy mortals and found the residence behind Guiyu Tower in Qinghe Town. He dared not use his Primordial Spirit to probe, but the residence was small. If the black dragon appeared, it could swallow the whole place without issue.

On his way back, he happened upon a funeral procession and instinctively stopped to watch. He noticed familiar black-red ghostly vapors rising from the coffin—could it be that the deceased would turn into a monster?

When a soul merges with a corpse, a monster is born—but certain conditions are required, such as resentment, and a series of reactions must follow for the transformation to succeed.

Xu Cheng blended into the funeral procession. If he rashly claimed the corpse would turn into a monster, he’d likely be cursed or even beaten by the mourners, though his skin was thick enough to withstand it.

His only purpose was to learn the burial site, so he could deal with the matter later that night if needed.

He followed the procession for five miles, finally reaching the burial ground. Seizing a moment when no one was watching, Xu Cheng left a discreet mark and glanced at the crying mourners before departing.

Transforming into a stream of black light, he returned to the old temple. To his surprise, the group was not cultivating but chatting with the ghosts. He discovered that these three were naturally kind, and even their chains had been undone.

Chrysanthemum had lost his earlier ghost judge’s intimidation, now appearing as an amiable scholar.

The scholar, who had once held his head in his hands, now placed it back upon his neck. Aside from the red line on his throat marking him as nonhuman, he exuded the air of a learned man.

He and Chrysanthemum were kindred spirits; Chrysanthemum himself had once been a scholar, journeying to the capital for the imperial examination, but encountered the Demon Lord Yun Sheng on the way. Seeing his innocence, Yun Sheng gave him two buns. Because of those buns, Yun Sheng casually demonstrated a few supernatural abilities, astonishing Chrysanthemum. Yun Sheng then offered to teach him cultivation, promising longevity and transcendence.

Having lost his mother to illness, Chrysanthemum longed for immortality to avoid the pain of birth, aging, sickness, and death, so he agreed to follow Yun Sheng in cultivation.

Such an experience was rare. Xu Cheng sat quietly aside, pretending to meditate, but in truth listening to their stories.

Lu Jing, originally the runner-up in the imperial exam, had come to this town as the new magistrate. His tenure had been brief; a heap of bad debts was pinned on him. Those who framed him were closely connected to the Primordial Spirit experts who had recently arrived in town. They added charges of bribery and frequenting brothels, sentencing him for multiple crimes and executing him. Unexpectedly, the one who framed him was the fourth-place candidate in the exam, who was then promoted to magistrate, leaving Lu Jing as a wandering ghost.

The good policies Lu Jing enacted as magistrate were all credited to his rival. Anyone would feel bitter over such injustice.

Yan Mengdie and Daocha had many tales to share. Both were cultivators investigating the local ghost disturbances, but were slain by several Primordial Spirit experts of the Great Xia Dynasty.

All because of Emperor Xia Hao’s decree: except for those of the Blackwater Sect, kill all who practice Daoist arts!

Speaking of monsters, Xu Cheng had already seen one on his way out earlier—a man who was about to transform. He had simply not acted yet.