Chapter 321
Chapter 321
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 0
Chapter Title: Fire Mountains of the Underworld
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In the underworld, rumbling thunder rolled in. The blue-faced, fanged ghost god that Chen Shi had transformed into climbed up from atop Blackie Pot's head and looked around, only to see thick smoke billowing everywhere as a pitch-black colossal volcano spewed forth magma and demonic fire.
Flames illuminated his face, casting a dark red glow over his bluish visage.
A scorching heat wave blasted toward them. Even at a distance from the ground, it was hot enough to steam a person alive.
This volcano was simply enormous—far larger than Blackie Pot—nearly filling his entire field of vision. Amid the churning smoke, lightning flashed and crackled; it was yin thunder, not the thunder of the mortal world.
The thunder of the mortal world was called yang thunder: pure yang energy, supremely rigid and mighty, indestructible. A single bolt could shave away all yin qi.
But yin thunder was different.
It contained baleful yin energy. Striking the living caused flesh and bone to melt away; striking a cultivator damaged their dao foundation and shaved off their cultivation!
Those with low cultivation would have their souls severed and seized outright, dying untimely deaths!
Worst of all, yin thunder harmed one's aptitude and comprehension. Even a genius of unparalleled intellect would become blockheaded after a strike, with both comprehension and memory as poor as stubborn stone.
Chen Shi glanced at the boat granny beside him. The ghost god she had transformed into was also a yaksha: blue-faced and fanged, bald atop the head with red hair sprouting only near the neck, red whiskers sprouting from her cheeks and mouth. She stood a head taller than his own yaksha form and was even more robust.
The boat granny was a female yaksha, clad in a black bellyband that cupped her breasts, a pair of massive black shorts around her waist—ragged and tattered in a thousand places—and clutching a three-pronged fork from which dangled a torn cloth sack.
Chen Shi looked down at himself. His upper body was bare, a ragged red pair of shorts around his waist, no better than those of a refugee.
He touched his chin, feeling the wild red whiskers there, then probed his forehead—bald and smooth as could be.
"From now on, combing my hair means just the back of the head and the beard. No need to bind it up," he thought to himself.
The boat granny tugged at her bellyband, hoisting it up a bit, then pointed into the distance.
"Top Scholar Lord, the Immortal Capital lies to the north. A month or so of travel, and we should arrive."
Her human speech had turned to guttural ghost-talk, which Chen Shi had figured he wouldn't understand—yet somehow, he did.
Chen Shi peered in the direction she indicated, where one colossal volcano after another filled his view. He couldn't tell how many there were, all belching plumes of demonic qi and rivers of rolling magma that converged northward.
"This volcanic region corresponds to the Huangshi Mountains in the yang world—immensely vast. Even at Pot Lord's speed, it'd take more than twenty days to cross, after which we'd reach the Northern Border Ice Plains."
Said the boat granny, "Once on the Northern Border Ice Plains, the Immortal Capital is near. But the journey is fraught with peril. The yaksha ghosts we've become hold low status in the underworld—lesser ghost gods, easily conscripted for labor. Run into any powerhouses, and they might just catch and eat us."
She cast a wary glance around.
"Plenty of ghost gods in these volcanoes that feed on yakshas."
"No need for all that hassle."
Chen Shi chuckled.
"Let Blackie Pot cast a spell and take us straight to my Yuan Chen Palace. Saves a month's travel and keeps us out of danger. Blackie Pot, I've got a stove ready for you."
He leaped down from Blackie Pot's head to the bank of the magma river, retrieving a rural pottery stove from the little shrine, then looked at Blackie Pot expectantly.
Blackie Pot's body was majestic, while the stove was pathetically small. Blackie Pot couldn't help doubting if he could even fit inside.
The boat granny jumped down too.
"Go to your Yuan Chen Palace? You're a fugitive—it's probably guarded by ghost gods! Better go to Pot Lord's Yuan Chen Palace."
Chen Shi shook his head.
"Blackie Pot's Yuan Chen Palace has even more ghost gods."
The boat granny turned to Blackie Pot, her eyes sparkling.
She hadn't expected Pot Lord to be a big score too.
"Heaven have mercy," she thought. "After me and my boy borrowed corpses to return to life, we've racked up merit after merit! When Little Yan King heads back, it'll be three promotions for sure!"
Blackie Pot muttered incantations from his mouth, and his massive frame began to shrink, bit by bit.
It looked taxing, though—like he wasn't practiced at the spell yet.
Chen Shi and the boat granny waited quietly beside him.
A distant rumble sounded as a colossal ghost god burrowed from a volcanic crater, rising from the magma. It dwarfed Blackie Pot by many times over.
It strode forth on clouds of fire, whistling away as flames roiled across the sky.
Farther off loomed another bizarre ghost god: enormous upper body, lower half fused with the volcano itself, sporting three arms—two at the sides and one sprouting from the navel. It used a mountaintop as a basin to scoop magma from the volcano, hurling it outward in splashes everywhere, all the while scooping and cackling sinisterly with endless hehes.
The magma it flung formed a long river of fire-red flow. Crowds of red-skinned, fanged little ghosts arrived at the riverbank, scooping the magma with iron pots and basins before tossing it back into their gullets.
They drank it like fiery liquor, staggering drunk left and right before clanging their pots and basins against one another's heads with metallic clangs.
Some drunken little ghosts were set upon by a pack of six-legged, sneaky fiends—heads vaguely doglike but crudely formed—who bit them fast, slung them over their backs, and trotted them up the volcano.
These fiends offered the drunken little ghosts as sacrifices to the three-armed ghost god, begging for its blessings.
Even farther away, Chen Shi spotted a monstrous flower spanning hundreds of li, its petals blooming in all directions as it spewed demonic qi outward.
The qi even corroded the barrier between yin and yang realms, revealing glimpses of the yang world. Nearby, ghost gods waited in the wings, poised to charge into the yang world the moment the barrier crumbled.
Chen Shi scanned about and saw thick tentacles emerging from another volcanic maw, sweeping wildly across the ground.
The tentacles oozed slime; any little ghost touched by it couldn't break free and was dragged into the crater. Chewing sounds and gleeful hehehe laughs echoed from within.
"Crossing this vast volcanic expanse... we might not make it out alive," Chen Shi thought.
The ghost gods here seemed far more formidable than those elsewhere. Even a yin constable like the boat granny would face nine deaths and one life to pass through!
Blackie Pot had shrunk to his limit—still four or five zhang long, far too big for the stove.
But he couldn't compress further.
Chen Shi produced some salt. Blackie Pot reared up on his hind legs beside the stove, chanting a spell under his breath, murmuring who-knew-what incantation.
He seized the salt and sprinkled it into the stove, upon which greenish oily flames ignited beneath it.
Chen Shi and the boat granny hopped onto Blackie Pot's back. Chen Shi wrapped an arm around the boat granny's burly waist; she clutched Blackie Pot's neck. Blackie Pot plunged headlong into the stove's mouth. The instant his huge frame touched the opening, it shrank rapidly—like a whale gulping a rainbow—sucked straight into the stove!
A few red-skinned little ghosts spotted their vanishing act and boldly scampered over, peeking into the stove. Beneath it, flames roared as a black hound dashed madly through the fire, bearing two riders!
The little ghosts, ever mischievous, picked up stones and hurled them under the stove.
Suddenly, the three-pronged fork shot from the flames, impaling one little ghost. The rest scattered in panic, not daring to approach.
The fork shook off the corpse and retracted into the fire.
Chen Shi reeled in the three-pronged fork. With one hand, he clamped tight around the boat granny's iron-forged barbarian waist, fingers digging into abs harder than steel, lest dashing Blackie Pot fling him off.
Flames blazed fiercely as they raced through a sea of fire. Boundless volcanoes streaked past on either side, along with towering ghost gods, magic trees that scraped the heavens, and magi gods enthroned atop clustered peaks with their palatial sects—all reduced to fleeting glimpses.
Chen Shi glanced back amid the flames and was astonished to see the stove mouth right behind them.
"This is an escape art!"
He marveled. It was swifter than even his Minor Thousand Heavens traversal!
In short order, the scenes around the stove's flames shifted from volcanic forests to icy plains—but the fire sea still raged, utterly impervious to any chill.
Abruptly, blinding light glared from ahead. Chen Shi and the boat granny reflexively raised their hands to shield their eyes, tears streaming from the glare.
Blackie Pot hurriedly covered his eyes with his ears and kept sprinting through the fire.
Then came a fierce sense of weightlessness. The ground vanished beneath the two people and one dog; they plummeted at a slant before crashing down, tumbling end over end. Chen Shi's head smacked a pillar, leaving him dizzy and seeing stars until they finally came to a halt.
The boat granny's head was buried in a flower bed, legs kicking outside. Blackie Pot landed butt-first and slid straight into a grand palace.
Chen Shi shook his head, taking a good while to regain his senses.
The nightmarish vistas around them had vanished, replaced by soft divine light filling his eyes. Before him stood a pointy-eared, indigo-skinned little ghost with a massive head thrust right up to his face, peering at him with concern.
"You're awake?"
The little ghost beamed with joy at his recovery.
Chen Shi jolted in fright and scrambled up. The little ghost was a juvenile yaksha, clad only in tattered shorts with a towel draped over one shoulder and a small gray round cap on his head—equally ragged, his two pointy ears poking through holes in it.
"Who are you?"
Chen Shi blurted in surprise.
"Lord, have you forgotten?"
The round-capped little ghost said.
"I'm your household servant. Lord, I've worked here three years without a single coin in wages. About that pay..."
Chen Shi shook his head, ignoring him as he took in their surroundings.
The pillar he'd crashed into was a pillar of semi-translucent jade, utterly flawless.
He looked down; the floor was paved in white jade bricks, each pure and lustrously warm.
The palace was built entirely of jade: ruby-red walls, glazed tiles, golden brackets, silver fake mountains. The gardens brimmed with immortal flora amid birdsong and fragrances; dragons swam idly in the ponds.
Chen Shi stood stunned.
"This... is my Yuan Chen Palace?"
The round-capped little ghost doffed his hat, gazing at him expectantly, awaiting his three years' wages.
The boat granny yanked her head free from the flower bed and brushed dirt from her whiskers.
"How do you prove you've worked here three years?"
The round-capped little ghost pondered, but could produce no evidence. He dropped to his knees with a thud, clutching his little hat in abject despair, sobbing snot and tears.
The boat granny sidled up to Chen Shi and whispered,
"Ignore trash like this. They're little yakshas—underworld menials, a dime a dozen, rarely living to adulthood. Don't pay him yet. Let him work a couple more years; he'll drop dead on his own, saving you money."
Chen Shi hesitated.
"That hardly seems right. He's a little yaksha I hired; I ought to pay his wages at least. But what currency does the underworld use?"
"Paper money."
The boat granny said,
"Paper money infused with incense-and-fire qi. That's hard currency down here. Little ghosts absorb the incense from it to live longer and grow stronger. But they're native to the underworld, never lived in the yang world, so no relatives there to burn paper for them. To earn a living, they slave away for the Immortal Capital's ghosts. Masters toss them scraps of paper money just to keep them from starving."
Chen Shi said,
"I see. So how do I check how much paper money I've got?"
"Every Yuan Chen Palace has a Money Tree. It bears the paper money your kin and friends burn for you. Only those with incense-and-fire qi can hang; ones without fall right off."
Chen Shi immediately headed toward the Yuan Chen Palace's courtyard.
The Yuan Chen Palace resembled a temple, with front and rear halls flanked by side halls. In the rear hall's courtyard, he indeed found his Money Tree.
The tree gleamed with golden radiance, its branches laden with sheets of golden-yellow paper money swirling with incense-and-fire qi. On some bills, the incense had condensed into actual golden ingots dangling from the limbs!
"That's your Money Tree. You've got quite the fortune."
The boat granny marveled.
"Dying young has its perks. Over these past ten-plus years, Chen Tang must've burned heaps for you. Plenty of ghosts get no paper or incense from kin after death."
Chen Shi asked,
"What happens to ghosts with no paper or incense burned for them?"
The boat granny tilted her head toward the sky.
Chen Shi looked up to see crisscrossing streets stretching across the heavens, lined with countless magnificent Yuan Chen Palaces.
Those palaces were opulent beyond measure, yet many flickered dimly, growing ethereal and faint.
Some were even crumbling away, dissolving into nothingness bit by bit.
Even the streets linking those Yuan Chen Palaces were turning transparent, fading from existence!
"Those Yuan Chen Palaces belong to ghosts forgotten by the living world. Without incense, they gradually perish. Man dies to ghost; ghost dies to sprite; sprite dies to wisp; wisp dies to nothing. Nothingness is the void."
The boat granny said,
"The Yuan Chen Palace disintegrates and collapses through this process, ultimately vanishing alongside them. Oil spent, lamp guttered—plunged into utter darkness."
Chen Shi gazed upward. The Immortal Capital's celestial avenues stretched endlessly, its Yuan Chen Palaces beyond counting. Every instant, someone was forgotten; palaces collapsed into nothingness.
The little yakshas working those palaces would then pack their meager belongings on poles, slinking dejectedly from their masters to trudge the sky streets in search of new employers.
Chen Shi saw vast hordes of little yakshas thronging the celestial ways, knocking door-to-door for work.
Palaces already employing yakshas would bar the gates against newcomers.
"So even the underworld knows no freedom," Chen Shi murmured.
He plucked a few sheets of paper money and handed them to the teary-eyed little yaksha.
The little yaksha wept with gratitude, kowtowing vigorously several times before scampering off joyfully to work.
"Why pay him? Wait a few years till he keels over—saved money!"
The boat granny grumbled.
Chen Shi laughed.
"He works, I pay—that's only natural. Why go against it? We're big yakshas now, kin to him at least. Lady, how do we find my mother's Yuan Chen Palace?"
Just then, the little yaksha came dashing back in a panic, tugging Chen Shi and the boat granny toward a rear hall.
Blackie Pot bounded over as the little yaksha cried,
"Get inside! Quick! Dusk is falling—the monsters are coming out!"
Blackie Pot hurried into the grand hall. The little yaksha strained to shut the doors, then pressed his face tensely to a crack to peer outside.
Chen Shi sidled up and peeked through the gap as well.
Outside, the sky abruptly darkened as a blood moon hung in the air,阴风 gusting ominously.
Noises emanated from the front hall and flanking side halls. Chen Shi peered intently, then spotted a massive eyeball bulging from the front hall—nearly as large as the hall itself—rolling about.
The eyeball squeezed outward, emerging from the doors, followed by another eyeball, then a nose, mouth, forehead. As the full face forced its way out, Chen Shi got a clear look.
It was his own face.
Except the crown of the head bulged high and sharp, screaming ill intent with a sly, wicked air.
Behind the head writhed an insectile body with numerous legs and feet—fat and immense, clad in bony plates like armor.
The boat granny leaned in; being taller, she peered over Chen Shi's head.
Blackie Pot crowded in too, even taller, eyes jammed to the crack.
"Top Scholar Lord, that's your Three Corpses God!"
The boat granny exclaimed in surprise.
"The one across is the Lower Corpse God, named Peng Qiao—master of lust. Lord, your Peng Qiao... he's terrifyingly strong!"
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