Chapter 21: The Underworld Envoy

Jiu’er knelt half-upright on the boat, the jingling of her bells coming to an abrupt halt. Beneath the vessel, the water wraiths scattered in terror, sending up a multitude of bubbles across the river's surface.

But just then, from the surrounding void, countless inky-black iron chains suddenly shot forth. Each chain was scarcely thicker than a thumb, yet radiated an aura of utter dread. The temperature around them plummeted, as though the biting cold would freeze a person in place.

The chains pierced into the river, then whipped upward with blinding speed, drawing forth a chorus of wailing cries. One after another, the water wraiths were seized by the neck with these chains and pulled out of the water. Witnessing this, Zhang Shouzheng drew a sharp breath.

The underworld wardens had finally appeared. These were soul-locking chains, used to snare departing spirits. Now, with his own soul injured and his life force dwindling, even with the Soul-Gathering Elixir's aid, he could not recover instantly. This left him exuding an aura akin to a dying man—an irresistible lure to the wardens, who would seize a soul at the first sign of death.

For, by all natural laws, the withering of the soul heralds the demise of the body. Though the person perishes, the ghost must swiftly reincarnate, or else be scattered to the winds.

There were twelve water wraiths in all, men and women, young and old. They seemed nearly indistinguishable from the living, save for a few eerie traits: their skin tinged a blue-green, their eyes blank and pupilless, and their long, tangled hair resembling river weeds.

The villagers aboard the fishing boat were oblivious to the supernatural events unfolding around them. They only heard a series of thunderous splashes, saw water erupting skyward, and huddled together in terror, shivering uncontrollably.

Jiu’er braced herself on the deck, gasping for breath, her complexion deathly pale—more so than before. Now her entire figure was enveloped in an odd, pungent scent. Zhang Shouzheng sniffed the air and realized it was the same corpse-odor that clung to Qian Hao. On Jiu’er’s fair neck, two pea-sized puncture wounds stood out vividly. As he pondered this, a soul-locking chain from above suddenly shot straight toward him.

Jiang Litian's face darkened. He reached up and seized the chain, but the instant he gripped it, a violent tremor overtook his body and he lost all control.

"Brazen mortal! How dare you impede the wardens of the netherworld in their soul-taking!"

A voice of tremendous authority thundered down. At some indeterminate moment, a colossal face had formed in the air, wrought of swirling black mist, lifelike and imposing.

"Soul-taking? Has my allotted lifespan truly ended? My soul is merely wounded and weakened for a time," Zhang Shouzheng mustered his courage and spoke loudly. With that, he drew a yellow talisman from his robes and slapped it onto the soul-locking chain. With a hiss, the talisman ignited, its flames racing up the chain toward the void above.

"Disciple of the Dao? Allow me to examine you."

As the voice faded, a hand of black mist materialized a foot above Zhang Shouzheng’s head, descending gently upon him. He did not resist, trusting that the warden would not act without cause. Instantly, a chill pervaded his scalp, but then a clarity and vigor seemed to fill his mind. Moments later, the hand withdrew.

"It was my oversight. Consider your soul restored as compensation. Until we meet again."

With those words, the black mist in the sky dispersed, and the snared water wraiths vanished as if they had never been. By this time, the fishing boat had reached the shore. Jiang Litian set Zhang Shouzheng down and stabilized the vessel.

Jiu’er remained kneeling at the bow, breath coming in great gulps. Noticing Zhang Shouzheng’s suspicious gaze, she immediately covered her neck with her hand and said,

"Senior brothers, I will investigate this matter thoroughly and give the Azure Dragon branch a full account. I must take my leave now."

With that, she rose, drew the oiled-paper umbrella from her back, and unfurled it with a snap. A thin layer of black mist flowed from beneath the umbrella, enveloping her in protection. With effortless grace, she tapped the deck and floated ashore, then sped away, a faint ghostly aura shrouding her form. She was gone before Zhang Shouzheng could react.

"That girl has some nerve—summoning ghosts again the moment the wardens depart. But she’s tainted with corpse-poison. If she doesn’t deal with it, the consequences will be dire," Jiang Litian remarked. After securing the boat, he hoisted Zhang Shouzheng onto his back and turned to the villagers:

"Stay away from Fen Shui Town for a few days. There are still many evil spirits lingering there. Now that the wardens have intervened, wait until the black mist over the town has fully dissipated before returning."

"Senior brother, Junior Sister Jiu’er is in worse shape than I am. I saw she was wounded at the neck—it must have been Qian Hao. Qian Hao has become a corpse-thrall, beyond your control. What now? He swore vengeance on us both," Zhang Shouzheng said, troubled. He had no quarrel with Qian Hao, yet was now marked by this corpse-thrall, all because of his connection to Jiang Litian.

Qian Hao had undoubtedly drunk Jiu’er’s blood. As a pure-yin descendant, her blood was a deadly temptation for corpse-thralls—perhaps enough for him to break free from corpse-scale powder’s control. Thinking of the bargain he had struck with that other man, who had only agreed to let him command the corpse-thrall, Zhang Shouzheng despaired. Now the thrall had escaped—how could he ever explain this? Jiang Litian, too, grew agitated at the thought.

"Are you afraid of him? Hold your tongue and rest your mind," Jiang Litian snapped.

Zhang Shouzheng, cowed by his senior’s tone, fell silent, staring at the familiar path ahead. The thought of his late master made his eyes sting with tears.

Night had fallen by the time they returned to the Azure Dragon Temple. Jiang Litian, as if coming home, set about boiling water and preparing medicinal herbs.

Zhang Shouzheng lay on the bed, still in a daze. The blood at his lips and on his neck had dried, leaving him looking pitiful and battered.

"Stay in bed and don’t move. We’re out of snakeweed in the temple; I’ll be back soon," Jiang Litian said at the door. Seeing Zhang Shouzheng unresponsive, he sighed softly and left.

Jiang Litian’s bond with Qingxu remained that of childhood, as he had left the sect early and had not seen his master in over a decade. Now that Qingxu was gone, the grief would pass in time. But for Zhang Shouzheng, recovery would not come so easily.

Exhausted in both body and spirit, Zhang Shouzheng soon drifted into sleep.

In his dreams, he saw his master again, still gentle and kindly. Yet the dream suddenly dissolved, and a towering figure loomed before him. Zhang Shouzheng could not make out the face, but sensed only evil. He could do nothing but flee.

But the figure pressed him to the ground, rendering him immobile.

Zhang Shouzheng struggled desperately, crying out for help, but though his mouth opened, no sound emerged. In that instant, a searing heat flared at his waist and he jolted awake.

A tall figure was pressing down on him, its presence unspeakably sinister. The lamp in the room had gone out at some point, and only by moonlight could he barely discern the shadow looming over him. As for its face, it remained an indistinct blur.