ATEG Chapter 74.1

The Underworld is where the deceased cycle through reincarnation.

Here, all is empty and void. The nine Yellow Springs flow ceaselessly in silence, guiding the souls of the departed back into the mortal world.

Within the Underworld there is no life force, nor is any needed; there are no dwellers, nor are any needed. The souls of the departed, drawn by karmic threads, enter the Yellow Springs and are guided into different cycles of reincarnation.

The power of the Yellow Springs exists only within the Yellow Springs; the power of the Underworld exists only within the Underworld. No one can obtain their power, nor does anyone dare covet it. This is where the rules of heaven and earth manifest—it operates naturally without need for interference, and those who interfere bear the consequences themselves.

Such a place is one no one wishes to visit. There is nothing here, nothing to be gained, and entering the realm of death with a living body comes at a price.

Just let it operate on its own—there is nothing worth paying attention to.

But later, karma became disordered.

When karma is disordered, reincarnation too becomes disordered. Those who should have been reborn as livestock might instead be born into human bodies; those who should have been born into wealth and nobility might mistakenly be born into poverty and lowliness.

Among those who could perceive this, none cared. Perhaps karma had become disordered because it was meant to be disordered, like the rising and falling of tides, the waxing and waning of the moon. The world had operated for so long—what could possibly go wrong?

Before this, no one had ever come to the Underworld; after this, to establish the Underworld Court, a deity traversed all nine springs of the Underworld.

No celestials were born within the Underworld, nor did the flowing of the nine springs require anyone’s guidance. So why interfere? Why take such a risk? How do you know that what you’re doing now isn’t a mistake?

Taiyin, Taiyin, you once counseled me thus, but did you ever consider—if the natural operation of heaven and earth’s rules is flawless, then why were celestials born at all?

……

The deity took a step forward, and his figure vanished above the Yellow Springs. When he reappeared on the earth, he was already within the Daqing Mountain range.

The profound depths faded from Li Chi’s eyes. While in the Underworld, he had felt as if he’d just emerged from a long dream. The Underworld had stirred his memories, but without requiring him to enter a dream—without the mists of karma, it could still conceal his state.

Apart from the nine Yellow Springs, there should be nothing else in the Underworld—it should be so, yet Li Chi vaguely sensed there was something else there.

Perhaps a place, perhaps an object, or perhaps something else entirely. It wasn’t naturally born of the Underworld, but rather something left behind during the deity’s past attempts to establish the Underworld Court. Unfortunately, he didn’t yet know how to find what the deity had left behind—that would have to wait.

But even so, having entered the Underworld, he had gained something.

In this world, the nine Yellow Springs are everywhere yet nowhere to be seen. They are infinitely vast yet infinitesimally minute, enveloping the entire world while also penetrating into every corner.

He could now borrow the power of the Yellow Springs while in the Underworld. In this world, there was nowhere he could not go.

Within the Underworld there is no distance; borrowing the path of the Underworld, crossing a single step in the mortal world takes but an instant, and crossing ten thousand li also takes but an instant.

The Underworld is not a space or a secret realm; if one must give it a name, it could be called a state of being. Therefore, those who have not reached this state cannot enter the Underworld.

Thus the Underworld has no so-called entrance. The pale-faced evil god had almost no understanding of the Underworld and Yellow Springs. He thought he had accidentally discovered a secret realm beneath the waterfall, but there was nothing beneath the waterfall at all.

The reason he entered the Underworld lay with the pale-faced evil god himself. When he piloted his boat to sink to the bottom of the waterfall, a special spiritual resonance emanated from his body, simulating the state when a living being naturally enters the Underworld realm after death, carrying the small boat and everyone on it into the Yellow Springs together.

But the pale-faced evil god was completely unaware of this. He was merely a chess piece, guided by another without his knowledge.

In that hidden karmic thread, Li Chi saw the Xuanqing Sect.

The Dream-Eating Tapir, the Locust King, the pale-faced evil god.

The same methods of obscuring heavenly secrets, similar techniques of devouring and controlling—but were all these truly the Xuanqing Sect’s doing?

No… the Xuanqing Sect was merely a layer of concealment, a means to an end. There was a more dangerous existence hidden behind the Xuanqing Sect, casting its gaze with cold, silent patience.

Li Chi lowered his eyes, and when he raised them again, his gaze had returned to its usual calm.

This was the uppermost section where the Jiuqu River wound through part of the Daqing Mountain range. His original purpose in coming had been to visit Huai River Divine Lord’s mansion, but he had paused midway upon seeing Chang Andu encounter the pale-faced evil god, then followed the current all the way to Liang Kingdom territory, long since deviating from his initial destination.

Using the power of the Yellow Springs, he could naturally arrive at Huai River Divine Lordi’s mansion in a single step, yet he had come here instead—naturally there was a reason.

Before he revealed his own strength, the pale-faced evil god had displayed exceptional caution. But that wasn’t because he was uncertain of Li Chi’s abilities.

Even the gods of the Divine Court who absorbed the power of incense offerings could be affected in their divine consciousness by mortal thoughts—how could the pale-faced evil god, who grew stronger through the power of vengeful spirits, remain unaffected? From the moment Li Chi boarded the boat, the pale-faced evil god had never concealed his malice; he didn’t even think Li Chi could pose any threat to him.

Yet he had never truly attacked, only probing a few times at night, and even those times had been extremely restrained. He didn’t want to clash with Li Chi on the surface of the Jiuqu River—there was another reason.

He was in fear of a certain existence and didn’t want his conflict with Li Chi to alert that entity.

……

The Daqing Mountain range stretched endlessly, with the Jiuqu River winding into a serpentine ribbon. The jade-green waters appeared and disappeared among the mountains like a dragon among clouds.

But beneath this free and tranquil jade ribbon, how many white bones had been swallowed?

Li Chi raised his hand and swept it through the air as if plucking at strings.

An illusion arose among the mountains.

……

The sounds of music and drums drifted erratically as a procession suddenly appeared among the mountains.

They played wedding music, but their faces were wooden.

The river waters nourished the land; the River God protected the shores.

Receive the god’s protection and enjoy favorable weather; provoke the god’s anger and suffer alternating floods and droughts.

In the villages along the Jiuqu River, the elderly recited this, and children sang it.

Everyone knew that only by pleasing the River God would their days be good. The rains would be abundant, the land would be nourished and fertile, and the harvests would be bountiful.

So people built a River God temple on the shore, where they lit incense and offered sacrifices.

River God, do not be angry—we make offerings and sacrifices for you. River God, please be pleased—we take a bride for you.

The wedding procession stretched along the road. The sedan chair carried a young woman dressed in wedding robes and two children no older than seven—one boy, one girl.

There were over ten villages along the Jiuqu River; this year it was Ding Family Village’s turn.

The River God’s messenger had already moved into the village when he came to deliver the notification, taking the new bride and the two children into a single room under strict guard.

In the past, this hadn’t been necessary—after notification, they would be allowed a few more days with their families. But a few years ago, during the River God sacrifice, someone had escaped.

Foolish, foolish! Who doesn’t cherish their own children?

But if the River God became angry, far more than three people would die!

“The River God’s wife goes to be the River God’s lady, and the golden boy and jade girl who accompany her go to enjoy blessings with the River God,” the River God’s messenger said, standing at the door.

The people’s gazes toward him were both resentful and fearful, both reverent and pleading. The River God’s messenger was long accustomed to this—every year he spoke the same words in different villages.

Whether people believed it or not made no difference. Though if they believed, they might feel a little better.

This new bride was very quiet, and the two children were somewhat dazed—she seemed to have calmed them, as they weren’t crying or making a fuss.

For this, he was willing to give them better treatment while instructing the guards to increase their vigilance.

He never met with the River God’s wife or the two children more than necessary, nor did he invest any emotion. It was unnecessary and would only add to his troubles.

The day of the River God sacrifice arrived quickly.

The River God’s messenger held a bright red wedding robe. Someone beside him opened the iron lock on the door, then knocked, as if they were visiting an important guest rather than a prisoner locked in a room.

After a moment, footsteps sounded from inside, and someone opened the door.

The River God’s messenger kept his eyes lowered. After seeing the hem of a coarse cloth skirt standing inside the threshold, he said with respectful manner, “The auspicious day has arrived. Please, River God’s wife, change your clothes.”

But this respectfulness was merely appearance; beneath it lay barely concealed compulsion.

Standing outside the door, besides the River God’s messenger, were several sturdy women.

After the young woman in the room received the wedding robe, they entered the room one by one. These women had come to help the River God’s wife with washing and dressing—whether to serve or compel, comfort or supervise… whatever you called their task made no difference; it was all the same. The only thing perhaps worth mentioning was that they all came from other villages along the shore.

None of them knew this River God’s wife, and all understood the necessity of the River God sacrifice.

After the room’s door closed, the River God’s messenger raised his head again.

He was willing to show respect to the River God’s wife and the golden boy and jade girl, but he was unwilling to look at their faces.

It wasn’t necessary. He wouldn’t remember them. Because there were too many—every year, there would be more.

The expressions on those faces—he didn’t need to look to know.

Because they were always crying, or cursing. Some would kneel before him, clutch his legs, and wail in supplication; others would struggle desperately trying to escape… People at their last chance to survive always seemed especially frantic.

But no matter what they did, in the end they would all be dragged inside, dressed in the clothes, painted with rouge, and placed in the wedding sedan.

But not this time. This River God’s wife seemed to have already accepted her fate.

She didn’t even seem very frightened—even her breathing remained steady. Those sturdy women had walked into the room on their own, not needing to support a young woman whose limbs had gone soft with terror.

Too quiet. The River God’s messenger stood at the door thinking.

He hadn’t heard crying or pleading, hadn’t heard the sound of stools being kicked over.

Before long, the door opened once more.

The River God’s messenger lowered his head again. He saw feet in embroidered shoes step over the threshold, the bright red hem of the wedding robe brushing past his side.

She had walked out of the room on her own, not needing to be forcibly carried out or tied up and stuffed into the sedan chair.

After the River God’s wife and the golden boy and jade girl had all entered the sedan chair, the River God’s messenger stood before it and called out in a long voice, “Raise the sedan——”

He shouldn’t think so much. No matter what peculiarities this River God’s wife’s character had, or whether she might be mute or simple-minded—it didn’t matter.

The long procession began to move. A woman reeking of medicine with a sallow complexion suddenly rushed from the village toward the sedan chair. She was pulled back by a man and fell to the ground, one thin arm desperately reaching toward the sedan chair as she cried heart-rendingly, “My daughter——!”

A childish voice came from inside the sedan. “Sister, don’t cry.”

The River God’s messenger kept his eyes lowered, leading the procession forward.

He shouldn’t think so much.

No matter what kind of people they were, no matter what kind of lives they might have lived, no matter their family circumstances, no matter whether they loved someone deeply or were deeply loved by someone.

The River God didn’t care. As long as they were young, vital young women and young boys and girls, the River God didn’t care whether his wife and golden boy and jade girl cried or smiled, nor did he care whose children they were.

The wedding music played. Several strong men lifted the sedan chair and carried it steadily to the riverside.

This was both a wedding procession and a sacrificial procession.

The sound of the river grew from distant to near. The procession stopped amid the music. The sedan chair was set on the ground with a muffled thud.

Inside the sedan it remained quiet; only when it landed and shook slightly did a small child’s startled gasp escape.

They had arrived. On the riverbank stood a wooden platform that had been constructed, serving as both altar and dock. A strangely shaped boat rested on the water’s surface, moored to a wooden post with rope.

It was a very peculiar boat—not the common spindle shape but a truncated cone. Around the cone’s perimeter was a railing, with a slightly raised wooden platform in the center. In the circular depression between the platform and railing lay fresh melons and fruits and a stewed pig’s head…

The River God’s messenger lit candles before the boat and led the others in kowtowing toward the river water.