Chapter 10, The Netherworld

Zhou Zishu stared at the palm print for a moment, then suddenly turned the body over and opened its jacket—only to find that in the same spot on the back of the corpse, there was indeed another palm print.

Wen Kexing vividly recounted: "Beneath the old locust tree lies an unnamed grave, and below it is the legendary road to the Yellow Springs. Every year on the night of the fifteenth day of the seventh month, wandering souls from the underworld crawl out from here to return to life for a brief moment. The road to the Yellow Springs is extremely cold; upon reaching its end, one arrives at the Ghost Gate. Beyond the Ghost Gate, one is no longer a living person, and along the way, there are flowers of the other shore, leading to the Naihe Bridge... Hey!" The road to the Yellow Springs is extremely cold; upon reaching its end, one arrives at the Ghost Gate. Beyond the Ghost Gate, one is no longer a living person, and along the way, there are flowers of the other shore, leading to the Naihe Bridge... Hey!"

Wen Kexing said: "When I was a child, I heard that it is not the hooting of an owl that is frightening, but rather the laughter of an owl. It is said that when this creature laughs, someone is destined to die. Are you afraid?"

The hanging ghost vanished beneath a large locust tree, where an owl stood on a branch, tilting its head as it gazed at the two uninvited guests

Brother Wen, this night owl is definitely not here to commit robbery for lust; typically, those who engage in such acts do not carry this much silver.

It seems that three individuals once appeared here, with Mu Yun Ge's footprints stopping at this point. The other two individuals appear to be unrelated, having gone in different directions. Among them, one seems to have followed Mu Yun Ge and later, like Zhou Zi Shu, squatted in front of the corpse to examine it.

Zhou Zishu felt that his last statement was very reasonable. He nodded, thought for a moment, and then asked: "Then why don't you follow the footprints of the first person? Those footprints are extremely light, and the skill level is probably the deepest among these three individuals. If the person secretly tailing Mu Yunge came from Zhao Family Village, then the one ahead must certainly be the joyfully mourning ghost, Sun Ding.

Wen Kexing paused for a moment, saying, "I am afraid of death, afraid of death... um... it is precisely because I fear death that I cannot stay alone in this place." He then followed suit.

Zhou Zishu crossed his arms over his chest, looking at him with a blank expression as he continued to tell ghost stories

Wen Kexing stared in astonishment as his figure disappeared into the eerie cave, and then he jumped down after him. He landed steadily and found it surprisingly soft. When he looked up, he saw Zhou Zishu looking at him with a half-smile, and he asked, "What, Brother Wen, are you also interested in seeing what the road to the Yellow Springs looks like?"

Suddenly, Zhou Zishu's ears twitched, and he shouted, "Who?!"

This time, Wen Kexing also fell silent, no longer mentioning his nonsensical talk about the "extreme cold on the road to the Yellow Springs"

Mu Yun's martial arts are not weak, and he would certainly not be like a weaned child with no power to retaliate. Zhou Zishu fell silent for a moment, thinking to himself, so that is the hypocritical master of the Broken Sword Manor, and the ghostly valley's joy of mourning, meeting at the tip of the willow after dusk

Wen Kexing said nonchalantly, "If you want to chase after the joyful ghost, you can do it yourself. I won't go. Although I am a good person who loves to meddle in others' affairs, I am also afraid of death."

Zhou Zishu glanced at him, said nothing, bent down, and carefully searched Mu Yunge's corpse, unexpectedly finding several banknotes and a pile of loose silver coins on him: "Hmm, sneaking out from Zhao's village in the middle of the night, and even bringing some money..." Zhou Zishu touched the money in his own pocket—he had brought some too

Zhou Zishu asked in confusion: "Why does a villager hold a bowl of red water?"

Zhou Zishu suddenly came to a halt.

Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing circled around the tree several times, yet they could not discern any clues. Zhou Zishu furrowed his brow and said, "Damn it..."

Zhou Zishu said lightly: "No one would go to such great lengths to strike a dead man; he was pierced through by a single palm strike. In the past fifty years, I have only known one person capable of such a technique..."

Wen Kexing's eyes instantly brightened, and he unexpectedly rushed out ahead of him, not forgetting to lower his voice and say: "This is truly a real event!"

There seems to be a wind in the underground chamber, yet it is unclear where this wind originates from. It comes from all directions, but it is growing increasingly cold and gloomy.

Zhou Zishu was silently taken aback by his frankness, and followed Wen Kexing all the way, during which he naturally noticed that there were no footprints beneath Wen Kexing's feet

Wen Kexing probably felt that the atmosphere was quite intense, so he ignored him and continued with great interest: "I heard that there was a village where one year a villager was holding a bowl of red water, and it was knocked over by an owl. As a result, that year, twenty people died in the village."

Then he heard a strange laughter, and he looked up at Wen Kexing with a chill running down his spine. Wen Kexing pointed to the owl in the tree, and the laughter was actually coming from the beak of this ghostly bird

Wen Kexing said solemnly: "Someone has killed the master of Duanjian Villa. I am a good person who enjoys accumulating virtue and doing good deeds, so I have decided to take a look into it, since I have nothing else to do anyway"

The person who committed the robbery does not seem to have brought a change of clothes either. Wen Kexing used his foot to pull out a small bundle from a nearby thicket, which was also wrapped in black cloth, containing some change of clothes and other travel necessities.

A drop of blood fell, and Wen Kexing took a step back to avoid being splattered with the dead man's blood. Then he slightly raised his hand and pushed Yu Tianjie, completely severing his head from his neck—the head still clinging to that string, while the body fell with a thud. Wen Kexing felt around on him and remarked, "It's still warm, just died."

Wen Kexing nodded seriously and said: "This way, when I tell others next time, I can also solemnly fill in the three words 'it is a true story'"

Suddenly, a dark shadow surged up from behind the tree, soaring out like a large bat, and after a few rises and falls, it vanished without a trace. Zhou Zishu did not hesitate and leaped to follow.

Zhou Zishu carefully discerned for a moment and hesitantly said, "... the sound of water?"

Zhou Zishu squatted on the ground, his old habit of probing into matters resurfacing, feeling as if a kitten were scratching inside his heart. He was very eager to follow the footprints and take a look, but reason told him that this would undoubtedly lead to trouble. He was no longer the omniscient and omnipotent leader of the skylight, and there was no need to create discomfort for himself.

A story that was initially thought to be one of deep affection and sentiment, only to reveal that someone, in a fit of anger and humiliation, turned it into a bloody tale with unexpected twists and turns

Then, the figure of that hanging ghost flickered in the ghostly fire and unexpectedly vanished into thin air

Zhou Zishu, who once presided over the Eight Trigrams of the Imperial Court, immediately decided to yield to the desires within his heart and resolved to follow and see for himself—after all, he was going to die anyway; what was there to fear for someone who was about to die? He could do as he pleased.

Zhou Zishu thought in surprise: "I am not a demon-revealing mirror..."

Zhou Zishu glanced at him and continued the internal struggle between heaven and man

Zhou Zishu looked up at him

Wen Kexing hurried over to take a look, circling around the cave entrance several times, exclaiming in wonder: "I have heard that the place where the realms of the living and the dead communicate is where the yin energy of the human world converges, and there must be a half-dead old locust tree nearby— the locust tree is a thing of utmost yin, a ghost tree. Have you heard of it?"

Zhou Zishu felt somewhat puzzled, wondering if this could really be the notorious ghost Xue Fang. He certainly did not believe that he was no match for Xue Fang, but if this truly was one of the Ten Evil Ghosts of Qingzhuling, would it really flee for its life upon encountering such an insignificant nobody like him

Wen Kexing sighed and asked, "Was he pressed like a pancake, or was he pierced through?"

The owl and Zhou Zishu locked eyes for a moment, and suddenly spread its wings and flew away

Zhou Zishu smiled gently, and suddenly reached out to grasp the tombstone beneath the locust tree. With a slight exertion, the tombstone surprisingly moved. He then forcefully pried the tombstone aside, and with a creaking sound, a gaping hole opened up in the ground, dark and unfathomable, its depth unknown.

It is unknown how long they have walked, but they have finally traversed this narrow path. Both individuals are covered in a considerable amount of dust. Ahead, the view suddenly opens up—revealing a vast underground cavern, through which a small river flows, its origins and destination unknown.

A person who leaves no trace in the snow expresses his fear of the mourning ghost and his fear of death

Zhou Zishu instinctively followed him and asked in surprise, "Are you meddling in other people's affairs?"

Wen Kexing also stopped beside him, the blue light of the ghost fire reflecting on his handsome face, making his somewhat irreverent expression appear eerie. In the distance, the howl of an unknown animal could be heard, and suddenly a mouse emerged from the ground, unafraid of people, staring blankly at the two of them. It was uncertain whether it had fed on corpses, as its small eyes were surprisingly red.

The ghostly hand of the joyfully mourning demon, Sun Ding.

He was suspended from the tree by a silken thread-like silver strand, his head severed halfway, still barely attached to his neck, fluttering in the gentle breeze, on the verge of falling.

Wen Kexing choked and turned his head away to cough

Before the two men lay an extremely narrow path, exceedingly cramped, where the two men could not walk side by side, but had to bow their shoulders and tuck in their necks, managing to pass only one in front of the other. Zhou Zishu was forced to keep his head slightly lowered, feeling quite uncomfortable, and furrowed his brow, wondering if the path he was traversing to the underworld was not the proper one, but rather one specifically dug for women and children.

Zhou Zishu shook his head and smiled. Suddenly, Wen Kexing made a "shh" sound, furrowed his brows, listened for a moment, and then quietly asked, "Did you... hear that? What sound is it?"

This Taihu Lake is destined to be lively

Wen Kexing saw him squatting on the ground in a very unrefined manner, as if he were deeply contemplating life and unable to rise. After observing him for a while, he finally couldn't help but speak up: "Aren't you going to chase after them?"

Several rises and falls emerged from the woods, and behind the forest lay a vast graveyard. Eerie ghostly lights floated about, as if the hanged ghost had finally arrived in its own territory, its form appearing even more spectral. Whether it was Zhou Zishu's illusion or not, he seemed to hear, in the dead of night within the graveyard, someone laughing softly as if saying "giggling." The laughter was intermittent, sometimes distant and sometimes near, truly sending chills down one's spine.

The ground in the forest is moist and soft, marked with a jumble of footprints, yet there are no signs of a struggle. Aside from the fatal blow he received, Mu Yun Ge bears no other wounds, and his renowned broken sword is still with him; this weapon has not even had the chance to be drawn from its sheath.

The two individuals, skilled and bold, navigated through the forest and then found their quarry by the riverbank—Hua Shan Yu Tianjie

Wen Kexing thought for a moment, then suddenly strode out following the footprints of the second person, saying: "Then I will pursue."

"Spider silk." Zhou Zishu looked up at Yu Tianjie, their eyes meeting for a moment, then he continued, "The spider silk of the hanged ghost."

Zhou Zishu has already jumped down

Zhou Zishu began to examine the tombstone beneath the large locust tree, which surprisingly had not a single word inscribed on it. He casually remarked, "Two people have already died."

Zhou Zishu held a pine cone in his hand, flicked it with his finger, aiming directly at the back of the black-clad man's heart. However, having already exhausted much of his strength during the latter half of the night and after chasing for such a long time, it seemed that his force was somewhat lacking. Although he hit the target, the man merely lunged forward without falling down as Zhou had anticipated, not looking back, and continued to run even faster.

Wen Kexing deliberately lowered his voice and said: "This is a true story"