Chapter 104

Chapter 104

Everyone present was stunned. What? Reinstating the position of Yanjun?

So... their ancestor, even after death, was still restless, using their hard-earned wages to recruit troops and rebel to become king?

The sect leader of the Xuanmen was momentarily dazed. Their memories of the ancestor only existed in the records of the Xuanmen.

The ancestor was a very strong-willed disciple, with a heavy sense of career ambition. From a young age, he aspired to lead the weak Xuanmen to become a major sect at that time. He remained unmarried and childless, dedicating his life to his ideals, and was a role model for the entire Xuanmen.

But who would have thought the ancestor's ambition was so strong he'd keep going even after death!

The sect leader even doubted if the ancestor's promised judge was serious. After all, Yanjun could appoint four major judges.

But... something seemed off.

Everyone was left bewildered by this news.

"Then where is the ancestor's true body..." The sect leader felt a chill in his heart and dared not continue.

It was New Year's Eve, the ghost gates were wide open, and most ghosts and demons had come to the mortal world to celebrate. The underworld must be pretty empty.

Wu Heng interjected, "His true body should have already gone to the underworld."

The ancestor knew that if fierce ghosts caused chaos in the mortal world, it would be Yanjun's fault, and it was reasonable to request the reinstatement of Yanjun.

The ancestor must have known early on that he was an ancient witch doctor, naturally able to suppress evil spirits, so he deliberately used a doppelganger to tease his disciples and delay him from interfering.

This made it easy for his true body to go to the underworld and seize the throne.

"Wait, what about Yanjun? He wouldn't just sit back and let the ancestor take his spot." The sect leader and the elders couldn't figure it out.

Since ancient times, the world has been divided into heaven and earth, yin and yang. The underworld has existed since ancient times, and Yanjun was born from the world's yin energy, governing its laws.

Even if the ancestor had been immortal for a thousand years, he couldn't beat Yanjun, who's been around since ancient times.

Good grief, how ambitious was the ancestor? If they had that kind of drive, the Xuanmen would have been huge by now.

The elders remembered how they'd scold their disciples, saying the ancestor could have been a judge in the underworld, encouraging them to earn merit and follow his example. But their ancestor was making a big move in the underworld.

He didn't want to be a judge; he wanted to be the top dog.

He wanted to be the new Yanjun!

The sect leader turned pale, muttering, "It's over, this is a huge crime."

Chen Zhao muttered, "No wonder the ancestor took so much of our money—it was start-up capital."

If it worked out, it would benefit the disciples, so the ancestor took it guilt-free, treating it as their initial shares.

But it was done without their okay.

Most of the Xuanmen, if not all, were good people.

"We have to stop the ancestor," the sect leader said grimly, looking at the dark sky. "During the festival, the ghost gates are open. I'll set up an altar and pray to the heavens for permission to use the ghost gate and go to the underworld!"

The sect leader felt uneasy, wondering how he could stop the ancestor with his crazy ambition.

But if he couldn't stop him, he'd sacrifice himself for the Xuanmen's reputation.

After considering the options, the sect leader decided to perform the ritual. This was a secret method recorded in the sect's archives, allowing one to assume a heavenly identity to enter the underworld in emergencies. After all, in the realm of the underworld, only the most powerful or those with an unpredictable fate could enter as living beings.

"Those who want to come, follow me now," Wu Heng stood by the well, waving to the sect’s disciples.

Seeing the sect leader still hesitating, Chen Zhao quickly caught up, saying, "I’ll follow my master from the rear."

The sect members acted swiftly, tying their sleeves into knots, gritted their teeth, and followed Wu Heng, closing their eyes as they jumped into the well, leaving only a few Taoist priests still fighting fierce ghosts alongside the special police.

"This is a lot to take in. A power struggle down there? And it’s affecting the mortal world?"

"Everyone plays by their own rules. If a new leader takes over, who knows what kind of rules he’ll impose? To get what he wants, he might even unleash fierce ghosts on the mortal world. Things aren’t looking good."

"Why didn’t they stop Yanjun, that loser, before he became a problem? Hasn’t he been MIA for the past ten years?"

"The sect has gone all out to fix its reputation. Every family has its bad apples. Even top schools have had murderers. Can we really blame the schools?"

Shi Zongguang watched the choppy live stream, his heart racing.

"Yeah, every family’s got its troublemaker."

Right now, he was just like the sect, scrambling to fix this messed-up world. What he hated most was his own weakness, watching his only son hold onto a sliver of family love, trying to turn him into a decent person, only to end up with a monster.

He’d sent some people to pose as tourists hanging around Chengde Medical Hall, making sure Shi Xuan was still alive.

If he survived jumping into a well, what else could he be but a monster?

But he vanished just before the Spring Festival, maybe teaming up with those evil spirits.

The busy emergency line picked up, and Shi Zongguang hesitated before saying firmly, "I need to report my son..."

-

Everything was still pitch black, with a cold, gray sky looming above.

On the path to the underworld, a few ghosts rushed by, muttering, "Hurry up, if we don’t get back to see our families, we’ll miss the New Year’s Eve cutoff."

At the underworld’s gate, some worn-out Underworld Officers slumped against the entrance, struggling to keep their eyes open.

The sect’s ancestor, now no different from any other ghost, calmly walked back through the gate.

Once inside the underworld, the ancestor flicked his sleeve, unleashing some fierce ghosts, and raced toward the River of Styx, his cloudy eyes shining with resolve.

Once he crossed the deepest part of the River of Styx, he’d reach the true underworld, the heart of power in the netherworld—a place countless ambitious ghosts dreamed of.

The Underworld Lord is dead—now’s his chance to take over!

It’s the natural order of things, so why not?

"Who dares to enter without permission..." the gatekeeper Underworld Officer barked.

Before he could finish, the fierce ghosts he controlled charged in, starting a chaotic fight, with ghostly howls all around.

This was the merit of following the dragon. His disciples were not as wise as these fierce ghosts.

The ancestor looked at the towering dark hall without the previous urgency, a confident smile appearing on his pale face. He straightened his attire and walked step by step into the hall, towards the pinnacle of power in the underworld.

The hall was eerily quiet, no ghostly lanterns burning, everything dim.

Yanjun was indeed dead.

The ancestor's eyes burned as he stared at the high throne, the position he had always desired.

If it hadn’t been for Yanjun’s tribulation, how could he have found such a perfect opportunity?

Just as the aged hand was about to touch the ultimate throne, a burst of yin energy suddenly erupted. This sinister energy was unlike any ordinary ghosts or even fierce ghosts, exceptionally cold and domineering.

The Patriarch sensed danger and was about to retreat when he saw a tall figure begin to materialize under the swirling yin energy.

A young man, dressed in a dark robe that faintly shimmered, the twelve tassels on his forehead tilted slightly as he leaned. His elbow rested on an armrest crafted from the bones of an ancient beast, gazing at him with indifference.

When the Patriarch saw the man, the smile on his face instantly faltered, and he quickly stepped back a few paces. "You… what are you doing in the underworld?"

Shi Xuan drew a black stone seal from his sleeve. "Why shouldn’t I be here?"

"No, this can’t be happening!" The Patriarch shook his head repeatedly; his plan couldn’t be wrong.

Yanjun’s tribulation had left the underworld without a leader, yet it still operated smoothly, as long as there was no chaos.

He aspired to become the new ruler of the underworld; this was his only chance.

Legends claimed that the water at the end of the Nuo River linked heaven and earth, not only connecting the underworld but also tying it to ancient times. So, he brought Wu Heng from there as a baby, letting the Nan Nuo Village’s Lai Mazi take him back to save his grandson.

That witch doctor had a natural resistance to evil spirits. He had Shi Zongguang remove Wu Heng’s ancient amulet, which not only restricted Yanjun’s physical development in the mortal world but also turned the witch doctor into a child with mental deficiencies and an incomplete soul. Naturally, the little fool wouldn’t hinder the growth of evil spirits in the mortal world.

For more than a decade, he siphoned off his disciples’ wages as startup capital, burned an endless supply of hell money, and secretly amassed a vast army of fierce ghosts.

He aimed to unleash the fierce ghosts to wreak havoc in the mortal world; he wanted the underworld to choose a new ruler.

Everything was in his plan. Once the witch doctor’s spirit was restored, the young Yanjun, whose growth had been stunted, would likely be killed by him.

Yanjun’s tribulation, if his body died in the mortal world, would mean the tribulation failed, and he would vanish from existence.

He wanted Yanjun, having failed and neglected his duties, to step down; what was wrong with that?

But why had something gone awry?

Why had Shi Xuan returned to the underworld early?

No, no one knew the identity of Yanjun’s tribulation. Just like Shi Xuan, full of deathly aura, a few words in a dream could make his father firmly believe he was an evil spirit causing chaos in the world.

Such an overwhelming ghostly aura would only mark Shi Xuan as a formidable fierce ghost.

Many sects of the Xuanmen regarded those with heavy ghostly aura as fierce ghosts causing harm, to be eliminated early.

No one could know his true identity. Shi Xuan himself didn’t know, and he couldn’t tell others. Even if Wu Heng was an ancient witch doctor, he couldn’t discern Yanjun’s origin.

The Patriarch couldn’t figure out where things had gone wrong.

"Want to know?" Wu Heng’s smiling voice echoed from outside the hall.

Soon, Wu Heng entered the hall with the Xuanmen disciples, who were tiptoeing and glancing around nervously.

Wu Heng had thought it would take some effort to enter the ghost gate, but the leading ghost general saw him and immediately welcomed him in, not even questioning the Xuanmen disciples he brought.

If it hadn’t been for the urgency, the ghost general would have prepared a sedan chair for Wu Heng.

Wu Heng’s gaze never fell on the Patriarch; he kept looking at the person on the throne, a smile unconsciously forming on his lips.

Indeed, he wasn’t wrong.

Wu Heng strode past the Patriarch, making his way towards Shi Xuan on the throne. "Long time no see, Lord Yanjun."

Since our parting in the underworld in ancient times, thousands of years have passed.

Shi Xuan reached out with his cold hand, and Wu Heng didn’t hesitate to take it. As Shi Xuan stood up, he suddenly pulled Wu Heng, sending him tumbling onto the throne of white bones.

Yanjun stood nearby, gently pressing Wu Heng’s shoulder, making him sit on the throne.

The Xuanmen disciples, who had been glaring at the ancestor for ruining their reputation, were stunned. "??"

Wait, how did he just sit down like that? What exactly is their relationship?

Wu Heng’s unease quickly vanished. He sat upright on the throne, gazing down at the Xuanmen ancestor below. Suddenly, he picked up the stone seal on the table and slammed it down in the air.

Indeed, the seal no longer bore no characters but the ancient seal script of the Yanjun.

The Xuanmen ancestor narrowed his eyes at their clasped hands and suddenly took two steps back, exclaiming in disbelief, "You... you showed the Yanjun’s stone seal to this witch doctor?!"

The witch doctor must have secretly seen the seal, which led him to deduce Shi Xuan’s true identity and personally send him back to the underworld early, leaving him completely defeated!

This stone seal is with Yanjun from birth, and it is because of this seal that the evil spirits of the mortal world cannot devour him, and Shi Xuan cannot kill him. It’s a life-saving treasure that must remain hidden.

Shi Xuan said, "No, I gave it directly to him."

The Xuanmen ancestor: "…………"

?

He gave it to Wu Heng?!

The Xuanmen ancestor stared at Shi Xuan’s calm face like he was looking at a lunatic, unable to imagine that Yanjun could be such a lovesick fool.

At that moment, the Xuanmen ancestor wanted to curse, on the brink of losing it.

He could lose, he could be crushed by Yanjun’s legions of ghost generals beneath the Flaming Ghost Mountain, but he could not accept being defeated in such a manner. After all his scheming, he never imagined Yanjun would be such a lovesick fool as to give away such a crucial seal.

"Ancestor, please, stop this," the Xuanmen leader knelt down with a group of disciples before the seemingly deranged ancestor, truly at a loss for words.

The Xuanmen ancestor’s eyes burned with malice. He shouted furiously, "Why? Why can he be Yanjun?"

"Emperors take turns—next year it’s my turn! Why can’t I? You spineless bunch of disciples!"

In the mortal world, he was a driven leader, turning the Xuanmen into a powerhouse of its time. Yet after death, why was he stuck as a minor judge based on merit?

He wanted the top spot, to make all ghosts and demons kneel before him, to stand at the peak and look down on everyone.

Wu Heng nodded and said, "Good point—ambition is key to achieving greatness."

Daring to break free from shackles, daring to challenge authority, that’s commendable.

Wu Heng glanced at Shi Xuan, his voice suddenly turning cold and stern, "But you shouldn’t involve innocent people. How many mortals have lost their lives because of your desires? Lost their organs? Did they owe you? Or were they sacrifices for your 'career'?"

"If you want to stage a coup or seize the throne, that’s fine, as long as you don’t harm the innocent and directly pull Yanjun down from his position, then you would be the first in history, and that would be his incompetence. The position of Yanjun is for the capable, if he can’t do it, he should step down."

If this were just a coup in the underworld, Wu Heng would admire the ancestor’s courage; he is a capable person.

No one is inherently superior, which is why there has always been the thought in China since ancient times, "Are kings and nobles born to be so?"

But involving so many innocent people, causing so many ordinary people to lose their lives? This is a great sin, how could the heavens allow it?

Were Zhou Fenghua, Tang Liang, and all those teachers and students meant to die from the living corpse gu?

Was it Zheng Feiran, the excellent painter, who had his eyes gouged out for this?

Or the recently buried dead, forced to endure the humiliation of decapitation?

What did they do wrong to suffer for one person’s greed?

Wu Heng smirked as he looked at the Ancestor of the Profound Gate’s icy expression, saying, "But after all your scheming to exploit the situation, it seems Yanjun still has what it takes to keep his position."

Shi Xuan sat motionless, and the Ancestor of the Profound Gate knew fighting was pointless. Once the Yanjun returned to his position, the accumulated ghostly power from ancient times was something he simply couldn’t withstand.

Shi Xuan stood to the side, raising his gaze to look at the fierce ghosts. His cold eyes radiated infinite intimidation, and the already injured fierce ghosts collapsed to the ground in panic.

Stripped of their pride, they trembled in fear, kowtowing desperately: "Yanjun, forgive us, spare our lives!"

Shi Xuan didn’t even glance up, his voice cold: "Arrest them."

"Yes!" came a voice from outside, bursting with suppressed joy, rushing in faster than the ghost generals.

Lai Yin Chai lashed out with his soul hooks, snagging several trembling fierce ghosts in an instant.

Hahaha, Wu Heng was thoughtful, stationing him right outside the hall so he could rush in the moment Shi called.

After all, a yin emissary of his rank wasn’t allowed in Yanjun’s grand hall!

Lai Yin Chai held the soul hooks in his hand, with a bent bamboo pole on his back, at the end of which hung a heavy paper lantern.

The lantern seemed packed with ghosts and demons, straining under their weight.

"Hey, want to see a new invention?" Yang Xing, who’d been lying low, suddenly whispered to Lai Yin Chai.

Lai Yin Chai’s ears perked up; he’d learned not to underestimate scholars.

These scholars, especially researchers, might look harmless, but they could create things that would terrify even ghosts.

Lai Yin Chai stepped closer as Yang Xing pulled out a paper net from his pocket, saying, "This works better with the soul hooks."

Lai Yin Chai swung the paper net, and it morphed into a fishing net attached to the soul hooks. With a flick, it snared dozens of fierce ghosts—even the motionless, grim-faced Ancestor of the Profound Gate.

Lai Yin Chai was stunned; this was a game-changer.

Shi Xuan’s voice was icy: "Order the Profound Gate to take their Ancestor back to the mortal world and endure forty-nine days of scorching sun."

As Shi Xuan spoke, flowing, intricate ancient characters materialized in the air, forming a Yanjun decree.

Shi Xuan took the stone seal from Wu Heng and stamped it on the decree’s lower left corner—the Seal of Yanjun.

The Profound Gate members saw the decree and knew their Ancestor was doomed. Forty-nine days under the scorching sun would destroy his soul. Returning him to the mortal world was also to answer to the living.

For all the innocent lives lost because of him, this punishment was just.

The head of the Profound Gate bowed and said, "Yes."

The head sighed, looking at the Ancestor with closed eyes: "Ancestor, you brought the Profound Gate to its peak. Let your disciples escort you one last time."

They had to return to the mortal world quickly—fierce ghosts still roamed, and the New Year was just two hours away.

Shi Xuan extended a hand to Wu Heng: "Let’s go back together."

Wu Heng tightly held Shi Xuan's hand, unable to stop himself from staring at him. The flowing black robe, resembling brocade, accentuated his tall and noble figure, radiating an air of nobility.

Wu Heng looked at the hand he was holding tightly, a smile playing on his lips.

"My lord, should we arrange a sedan chair?" a ghost general approached and asked.

Wu Heng wondered; why were the ghost generals of the underworld so enthusiastic about carrying him in and out in sedan chairs?

Shi Xuan coughed lightly and declined, telling the ghost general to have the Xuanmen members leave, while he led Wu Heng directly out of the grand hall.

-

People everywhere kept checking the time; it was 11 PM on New Year's Eve.

Since dawn, it was the first time in their lives they had gone an entire day without seeing sunlight, from morning till now, everything had been plunged into darkness.

Many feared that light would attract fierce ghosts, too frightened to turn on their lights.

Numerous cities were plunged into darkness and silence, lacking any New Year's cheer. Many families didn't even have their reunion dinner, constantly on guard against the fierce ghosts that could appear at any moment.

Shi Zongguang looked grim. He glanced at the live broadcast and noticed that Wu Heng hadn't appeared yet.

Although he'd long wanted to take a swing at that useless butler, Wu Su, he had also paid attention to Wu Heng, a skilled witch doctor who still hadn't returned.

And all of this was because of his son.

Shi Zongguang looked at the police officers who had arrived and confessed, "My son, Shi Xuan, is actually..."

Shi Zongguang suddenly caught sight of the live broadcast and his voice trailed off.

Wu Heng returned from afar, and beside him was a figure shrouded in yin energy. While netizens might not recognize it, as his biological father, he could instantly recognize Shi Xuan's figure.

What had happened to him? He looked ghostly, barely human.

Before Shi Zongguang could react, he heard the fierce ghosts in the broadcast, who were locked in combat with the SWAT team and Taoist priests, cry out in terror, "Lord Yanjun?"

Shi Zongguang shot up from his seat, his eyes glued to the grainy live broadcast.

The busy police officers noticed Shi Zongguang's sudden change in expression and silence, urging him, "What exactly are you trying to report about your son?"

Shi Zongguang's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. What had those fierce ghosts called Shi Xuan?