ATEG Chapter 127.1

“I have given you so much time.”

The profound voice echoed through the great hall built of black stone.

A figure draped in black robes stood at the center of the empty hall, the head and hands exposed beneath the robe resembling a corpse dried out over many years. He prostrated himself, trembling at the sound of that voice. “My lord…”

He was the Chief Underworld Ferryman of the Yellow Springs. Hundun wished to find the other half of the Underworld within the netherworld, but he could not go searching himself. Changyang had somehow laid arrangements within the netherworld that caused Hundun to feel profound terror each time he attempted to enter, and so he could only dispatch others to search in his stead. The Underworld Ferryman had been established for precisely this purpose.

But after one hundred and twenty thousand years had passed, they had still failed to find any trace of the other half of the Underworld, nor had they discovered what it was that caused Hundun’s heart to tremble with dread.

Previously, Hundun might still have had the patience to wait — if something like that could be easily resolved by these people, then he would not be Changyang. But since Changyang had not died, the other half of the Underworld could fall back into his hands at any moment, making it even harder for Hundun to obtain. Furthermore, the Underworld Ferryman had recently made no progress whatsoever within the netherworld and had instead been stymied by a Ghost King who had only recently come into being. Hundun was not a lenient master — if his demands could not be met, he did not mind replacing one subordinate with another.

The Chief Ferryman dared not argue in his own defense, but he was fortunate on this occasion.

“Bring her to me, and I will forgive your incompetence.” Hundun’s voice rang through the great hall.

“Yes.” The Chief Ferryman accepted the command and carefully withdrew from the hall.

The Ghost King was not without weakness. The Underworld Ferryman had been passed down for tens of thousands of years — dealing with a mere Ghost King ought not to be beyond them. It was only because of the unusual conditions within the netherworld that she had repeatedly managed to escape unharmed. The method she had somehow obtained for borrowing passage through the Yellow Springs was even more nimble and swift than the coffin-barges they had specially refined. The Chief Ferryman had already traced the Ghost King’s location in the mortal world — outside the netherworld’s unusual environment, he had originally been confident he could capture her. But… the Ghost King’s domain in the mortal world happened to lie within the Daqing Mountain Range. The celestial god who had anchored the spine of the earth was currently stationed at the mountain’s summit. If he dared make a move against the Ghost King within the Daqing Mountain Range, he would be walking into the tiger’s den.

But even for dealing with the Ghost King within the netherworld, he was not entirely without recourse — the cost would simply be somewhat greater. So be it; he would lay out irresistible bait. He had to — he must capture the Ghost King.

The great hall fell silent once more. Hundun was not angered; had he been, he would not have spared the Chief Ferryman. Now that Changyang had emerged, Hundun had never expected to achieve his ends by relying solely on these worthless tools. Changyang and Taiyin were his adversaries, and he had long since laid bait for them both.

Draw like to like, and strike the unaware. There are no perfect and flawless things in this world, and a wise person arranges his schemes around weaknesses and flaws.

The weakness of the Xuanqing Sect was plain to see. He had seized the Xuanqing Sect in order to use it as a means of finding the other half of the Underworld, and for this reason, he had to preserve certain elements identical to the original Xuanqing Sect in order to maintain that faint connection between the Xuanqing Sect and the Underworld.

Taking hold of mortal world power structures was no easy matter. It was not until seven hundred years ago that he truly began to gain dominance in the mortal world — assuming the form of the Yin King to rule over the various kingdoms, with every subsequent generation of the Yin Son of Heaven being his incarnation. Even so, only Yin and Ji truly belonged to him. Lu Kingdom had always venerated the Divine Court; Min territory was established in reliance upon the Flame Lord’s earthly sanctuary; the kingdoms of Sui and Liang likewise maintained the Divine Court’s presence.

Hundun’s designs on Liang territory were not a recent development, nor had his arrangements only begun twenty-three years ago — but it was only now, through the bloodline of the Xu clan, that he had finally taken hold of Liang. His decision to have Xu Huan occupy the title of leader of the Xuanqing Sect was a consideration born of two overlapping factors. This decision had posed no problem in the face of Taiyin and the Flame Lord — but the one he now faced was Changyang, the very founder of the Xuanqing Sect, the god who governed cause and effect.

The teacher’s example, followed by the student — that is what teaching is. If Changyang could make Xu Huan truly understand the authentic Xuanqing Sect, leveraging both his title as leader and the thread of genuine Xuanqing essence preserved within the sect, he could reverse cause and effect, transform the Xuanqing, and reduce Hundun’s countless years of effort to nothing. To overturn the countless visible and hidden figures and power structures beneath a sect through one man’s name and a faint thread of connection — this would ordinarily be an inconceivable method. But Changyang was the god who governed cause and effect; this was well within his power.

Hundun was aware of this vulnerability, yet he had chosen not to mend it. The most exquisite method lies not in the ambiguous, but in the similar — using likeness to deepen confusion. Those who play chess play to win; they are not afraid of having their objective seen through, only of having their strategy seen through.

Changyang — I have already found your piece. You have no choice but to enter this game.

****

The Xuanqing Sect was a towering tree with deep roots and flourishing branches. Feiying had long held this understanding — but only after truly coming into contact with the Xuanqing Sect’s shadowed side did he realize, day by day with ever greater depth, how vast this great tree truly was. It blotted out the sky and covered the sun.

He wished to obtain the sweet fruit from such a great tree, but at present he was at best a small insect that had sucked a few drops of sap. This was not something that could be rushed; he had originally soothed his parched, yearning heart with this thought. But now he could no longer afford to wait — Fu Daren was dead. At the time, he had been gravely wounded by Marquis Wu, and Feiying had caught him and fed him medicine, but Marquis Wu had struck a hidden malefic force into his body, and that had claimed his life.

The great calamity was in motion, and Fu Daren — whose cultivation far surpassed his own — had been lost so easily. For a minor figure like himself, how resilient could his fate be in the midst of such a calamity?

He wanted to grow stronger — faster — to survive the great calamity and continue walking his path. He could no longer follow the original, slow and steady approach; he had to actively create opportunities for himself. And right now, one such opportunity had presented itself.

The Xuanqing Sect had seized the entirety of Liang Kingdom’s northern border region, and there were still a fair number of ordinary Liang civilians in those areas. The Puppet Master Envoy Daren needed someone to manage these affairs, and Feiying — who had relevant prior experience — was pulled out for the role. This gave him a chance encounter with the Puppet Master Envoy, but if all he could do was handle these mundane tasks, that was all he would ever receive. So after pacifying the ordinary people with some time-worn methods, he had directed most of his energy elsewhere — and today, he had finally earned his reward.

“…Wu Keji is a reincarnated individual, but what his previous life was, this subordinate has not yet been able to determine.” Feiying stood before the Puppet Master Envoy, who wore a carved wooden strange-face mask, and spoke with respectful deference.

In this battle, the Xuanqing Sect had emerged victorious — but Xu Kang, along with a portion of the Xingfeng Temple’s people, had escaped. Their trail extended into the Daqing Mountain Range and vanished; the Xuanqing Sect’s people had only pursued as far as the mountain’s edge before stopping. Feiying sensed that the Puppet Master Envoy did not seem particularly concerned about Xu Kang’s fate, and was instead more interested in Marquis Wu’s deeds.

“There may be those among the ghosts and spirits who served under him who know something — I have uncovered a small lead.” Feiying continued.

He studied the Puppet Master Envoy above him with careful attention. The carved wooden strange-face mask concealed the Envoy’s entire face; the wide black robes blocked every inch of skin — apart from mystery and strangeness, he could discern nothing at all.

“Come find me once you have found the trail.” The Puppet Master Envoy’s voice was neither clearly male nor female — beyond an uncanny feeling that set one’s spine on edge, nothing else could be determined. A silk thread shot out from within the black robes and, before Feiying could even react, connected to his forehead.

The wariness that had just risen in Feiying’s eyes gave way to a daze, which then transformed instantly into wild, rapturous joy. That silk thread had shown him a new path! The way forward he had long since severed had finally found hope of extending onward! He followed the thread’s guidance in a state of intoxicated obsession, pouring every ounce of himself into feeling it, understanding it, committing it to memory — but all too soon, the guidance vanished. Feiying opened his eyes, unable to suppress the urgency and loss surging within him, and looked at the Puppet Master Envoy with desperate eagerness. “That was—”

“Come find me once you have found the trail.” The Puppet Master Envoy said. The uncanny voice poured over Feiying like ice water, extinguishing the fever of his emotions.

“Yes. I will.” Feiying said with firm resolve. “The next time I come to see you, I will bring you to find them.”

He withdrew from the room with careful deference, yet within him, desire was churning in a wild ferment. Not enough — not enough! He wanted greater power, a longer road ahead, a higher station!

He wanted the Puppet Master Envoy’s position and power!

If the one who wore that strange mask, who sat high above all others, who commanded the fates of everyone, who possessed the ability to effortlessly traverse a path that was for him as impassable as a deep gorge — if that person were him, if he were the one sitting there… Feiying forcibly suppressed the turmoil in his mind. For certain advanced cultivators, sensing another person’s thoughts was not particularly difficult. He had to control himself — he could not let the Puppet Master Envoy take a dislike to him.

Feiying hurried toward the location where he had discovered the lead. His divine consciousness had quieted, but the craving at the bottom of his heart burned fiercer than ever. He had to — he had to find those ghosts and spirits who had once served under Marquis Wu!

****

At the foot of the Daqing Mountains, Feiying led the Puppet Master Envoy toward a long-abandoned village.

“It was here that this subordinate discovered the trail. There is a desolate village nearby — fearing I would be detected, I did not draw any closer.” Feiying said.

“You did well.” The Puppet Master Envoy replied.

They were already quite close, but the surroundings remained utterly desolate. The spiritual essence was chaotic in the manner typical of the great calmaity, and there was not even a single ward or alert formation in sight — as though this were simply an uninhabited stretch of wasteland. If this place truly served as someone’s hiding spot, then those hidden here were being far too complacent. Had Feiying not previously discovered certain faint signs in the vicinity, he would almost have doubted his own judgment.

Yet the Puppet Master Envoy raised no questions toward Feiying. They were already very close to the desolate village — there was no point in deliberating further.

The two stopped before the ruined village — it was little more than a stretch of tangled snow on a hillside, with dead branches and withered vines jutting out here and there. The place had been abandoned for so long that half the village had sunk into the earth, and whatever surface traces remained had long since been swallowed up by wildly growing vegetation. Without a cultivator’s keen divine consciousness, one would never perceive that a village had once stood amid the expanse of chaotic snow.

A faint unease stirred in Feiying’s heart. The place truly did not look like somewhere that concealed anything. He had not approached before and was thus unclear on what the situation here actually was; he only knew that a village had once stood here — had it not, he would never have come to investigate the area in the first place. Those ghosts and spirits who had fled had for years received the offerings of worshippers, yet some had never truly freed themselves from the affliction of malevolent resentful energy. Now that the Xuanqing Sect had forcibly severed the faith within Marquis Wu’s former domain, they would inevitably be suffering. If they could find an old shrine or spirit statue that had once received offerings to take refuge in, it would alleviate some of the torment of the malevolent resentful energy. Though this village was already desolate, ghosts and spirits had no need for the material things upon which mortals depended for survival — so long as the shrines or spirit statues that had once been worshipped within such a village still existed, that would suffice.

But how could a group of people in hiding leave their refuge without a single ward or alert formation? Feiying couldn’t even find any concealment formations here — no concealment, and yet no trace of ghostly or divine presence either. Had his deduction been wrong? Had those ghosts and spirits only stopped here briefly before moving on? Would this affect how the Puppet Master Envoy viewed him — leading the Envoy to see him as incompetent? He had to think of a way to handle this…

The Puppet Master Envoy suddenly gave a cold laugh. Feiying’s heart tightened — then he heard the Envoy say, “They’ve hidden themselves quite deeply.”

This was directed at the ghosts and spirits concealed within the desolate village. The tension in Feiying’s chest eased; he put on an expression of stunned surprise tinged with chagrin, and asked deferentially, “This subordinate nearly thought he had come to the wrong place. How did you see through it, Daren?”

The Puppet Master Envoy said, “Their formation work is exceptionally skillful — secret arts from within Diancang Mountain. It is only natural that you could not discern it.”

Feiying’s confusion was resolved, yet an even greater bitterness surged irrepressibly within him. Diancang Mountain — yet another lineage that had once refused him. By that single difference alone, despite all the hardship and torment he had endured over so many years, he could not even see through the modest residual benefits enjoyed by a few ghosts and spirits fleeing in disarray.

Feiying forced down the jealousy in his heart — he knew this was not the moment to indulge his emotions. These ghosts and spirits possessed formation arts derived from Diancang Mountain; it seemed Marquis Wu was indeed connected to Diancang Mountain. More than that — the Puppet Master Envoy’s interest in Diancang Mountain seemed a touch excessive. Marquis Wu was already dead; a few minor ghosts and spirits hardly required the Puppet Master Envoy to personally remain here and oversee matters. But if the Envoy had a particular interest in these beings, then the matter was different — and beyond their connection to Diancang Mountain, what else about these ghosts and spirits was worth noting?

Feiying was still turning this over in his mind when he noticed the Puppet Master Envoy had already walked into the desolate village, and he hurried to follow.

The Puppet Master Envoy strolled at a leisurely pace across the layered snow, hands beneath the black robes guiding and lifting in turn. The spiritual essence within the dead and silent village began to stir in scattered ripples; hidden formations barely revealed their traces before they were broken apart one by one. The craving within Feiying boiled up with ever greater ferocity — he wanted power, he wanted this kind of power!

The concealed aura within the desolate village was exposed. Ghosts and spirits — no, wait. Something was wrong. The aura of these ghosts and spirits was too rigid and too faint; it did not resemble the aura that would arise from ghosts and spirits sheltering here. It was more as though they had already departed, and their residual aura had been triggered by someone else…

The broken formation suddenly erupted outward, its fragments arranging themselves on all sides into binding seal patterns that locked the desolate village’s space shut in an instant. This was a chain formation — this was a trap!

Never before had Feiying experienced so acute a sensation of his own sluggishness. His divine consciousness had only just registered what was happening when a burst of sword light erupted and split across his field of vision. Feiying’s eyes went wide with horror. He strained desperately to dodge, but the sword light was too fast and he was too slow. His divine consciousness was filled with the image of that sword light like a thunderbolt cracking through the sky, yet his spiritual power and his body simply could not keep pace. He felt as though he bore the crushing weight of a towering mountain, his spiritual power and his flesh alike sheathed in a thick layer of ice.