"Ancestors above, your descendant—respectfully offers bristled meat and soft fur, clear wine and humble dishes, in sacrifice to Grand Ancestor, begging the forebears to bless the Chen family through this unprovoked calamity..."
Here it came again!
Mo Chuan lay in bed, about to sleep, his brow tightly furrowed and his eyes burning with anger.
This damned auditory hallucination had appeared again.
Who knew what evil he had run into lately?
Ever since a week ago, he had inexplicably begun hearing faint, murmuring hallucinations.
At first, he thought someone's television was simply too loud.
Later, he discovered they were his own auditory hallucinations.
He had gone to the hospital and had his brain examined, yet nothing had turned up.
With no other choice, he had even spent several nights in different hotels.
Yet the hallucinations persisted.
And they were becoming clearer and clearer!
Especially now—he could already make out every single word.
"Damn your immortal ancestors! Which bastard's making trouble? Get the hell out here!!!"
Even a clay Buddha had three measures of anger. Mo Chuan finally snapped and roared furiously!
"Mm—"
The instant his shout fell, his expression froze.
Right before him, an incense burner suddenly floated into view.
It seemed to be made of reddish bronze, with two handles and three legs, carved with dragon patterns and auspicious beasts. Three offering sticks protruded from it, their curling green smoke rising, then actually arcing through the air and rushing straight at his face.
The green smoke entered his nostrils, while a hazy mist spread before his eyes.
Within that smoke and haze, Mo Chuan actually saw a world overlapping his bedroom!
It was an ancient-style chamber, with carved beams and painted rafters. The shrine was vermilion red and covered in intricate carvings—deer, horses, and a table overflowing with offerings. The sight sent chills crawling down his spine.
What was worth mentioning was that the incense burner on the offering table was identical to the two-handled, three-legged burner floating in the air.
At that moment, an old man knelt before the offering table, presenting the feast in sacrifice as he muttered without end.
—That familiar voice was precisely the hallucination Mo Chuan had been hearing.
"Father, stop worshipping! Stop! Run, quickly! The Yellow Weasel Spirit is coming!"
A voice trembling so badly its tongue seemed to knot came from outside.
A young man in gray short clothes rushed into the ancestral hall, grabbed the old man, and tried to drag him out.
"Run? Where could we run? Without the few thin plots of land our family owns, we'll die wherever we go!"
As he spoke, grief welled up in the old man's heart. He smashed his forehead against the ground, tears and snot streaming down his face. "I've failed the ancestors! The Chen family's incense line will end with me..."
"Father! Then hand me over!"
Unable to bear it, the young man clenched his teeth and said fiercely.
Slap!
Unexpectedly, the old man swung a hand across his face.
"You unfilial brat, what nonsense are you talking about?! Kneel before the ancestors and admit your wrong! You, you—when the Yellow Weasel Spirit sought an investiture, you only had to go along with it. Why provoke it?"
Overcome with rage, the old man pressed the youth onto a cushion and berated him endlessly.
"Father! If I went along with it, I'd die!"
The young man cried out in grievance.
The old man's entire body stiffened. With a thump, he collapsed onto the floor, his eyes empty. In his fury, he had spoken nonsense!
How could he not know that his son had done nothing wrong?
The ancestors had said: when Yellow Weasel sought investiture, if it resembled a man, men would perish; if it resembled a god, gods would decline.
One must know that humans were the spirits of all things, and their words carried prophecies—prophetic sayings, talismanic prophecies, and mandates of fate. (The character for "prophecy" was pronounced like "chen.")
As the saying went: "One word may raise a nation; one word may ruin a nation." "Do not speak of people in broad daylight, for speaking of them brings harm; do not speak of ghosts in the dark of night, for speaking of them brings ghosts."
That was the power of prophetic words.
What Yellow Weasel sought was precisely this canonizing pronouncement.
Having watched the entire scene unfold, even Mo Chuan realized something by now.
So he had become the ancestor of this old man and young man?
That meant those so-called auditory hallucinations were the old man presenting offerings and begging his ancestor for protection?
Mo Chuan's expression turned strange.
He had never married, nor had he left behind any offspring. Where had such a grown descendant come from?
If he remembered correctly, the old man called himself a member of the Chen family, while Mo Chuan's surname was Mo. They were as unrelated as two things separated by eight poles.
Or was everything before his eyes merely a terminally ill hallucination?
"Wuu—wuu—"
Suddenly, a series of whimpering barks interrupted Mo Chuan's absurd thoughts.
Along with the eerie murmuring came gusts of cold wind sweeping into the ancestral hall's shrine. They blew incense ash everywhere and made the candle flames sway, while shadows bared fangs and brandished claws. The sight was terrifying.
"Father! It's here! It's here!"
The young man went pale with fright. He turned toward the doorway, his eyes bulging and bloodshot.
"My son, don't be afraid, don't be afraid!"
The old man instinctively shielded the youth, though his legs shook like sieves. Clearly, he too had long since been scared out of his wits.
As they looked outside, a torrent of white smoke surged in.
In the blink of an eye, it filled the ancestral hall and swallowed the candlelight.
Within the shifting smoke, a colossal creature whose head brushed the doorframe beam slowly poked its head out of the dense fog.
It resembled a swollen jackal, with a pointed snout and fang-filled jaws. Its scarlet eyes were as large as bronze basins, and every hair of its mane stood straight toward the heavens. It was horrifying beyond measure!
"Hehehe... d-don't come closer... don't come closer!"
Seeing the monster flicker in and out of view amid the thick fog, the young man's teeth chattered in terror. His mind went blank, and the cloth around his crotch darkened as a rank stench rushed forth.
"G-Great Immortal Master! My son never meant to ruin your immortal business... Everything can be discussed, everything can be discussed... I only beg you to spare the Chen family. Our Chen family is willing to build you a temple and make offerings to you..."
Age had made the old man wise.
He clenched his teeth and pleaded in a trembling voice.
"I, Huang Buyu, have cultivated immortality for over sixty years. I crossed four lesser trials and two great tribulations, finally reaching the step of casting away falsehood and preserving truth! Yet you lowly humans ruined my immortal foundation and destroyed my cultivation... Do you think building a temple and making offerings can compensate for that?"
The enormous spirit beast roared in fury. Billowing smoke surrounded him like clouds following a dragon, making him all the more fearsome!
"Great Immortal Master, everything can be discussed, discussed..."
"There is nothing to discuss! I only want this boy's life to fill the gap in my cultivation!"
The old man watched this horrifying sight, his face filled with despair as he wailed mournfully, "Ancestors, save my son... save the Chen family!"
As his pleas rang out, the offering incense in the two-handled, three-legged burner atop the table burned hotter and cracked louder, its curling green smoke drilling straight into Mo Chuan's nose and mouth.
Mo Chuan instinctively inhaled it. Yet as he did, an ineffable sensation surged into his heart.
—Consume incense offerings, and relieve human calamities.
"Who is it?"
A fierce shout interrupted Mo Chuan's thoughts.
The enormous spirit beast at the ancestral hall entrance suddenly raised its head and looked toward the shrine tablets. Amid its savage expression was a trace of terror.
Crack—
Outside the ancestral hall, a lightning bolt like a coiling dragon shattered the darkness. It shone through the carved wooden window and illuminated the room.
Upon the vermilion-lacquered shrine, green incense smoke coiled like flame and dust. Within it, a majestic thing of indiscernible form flickered into view, vividly poised above.
Behind it lay the Jie Netherworld Realm, still as abyssal waters and towering as mountains.
A stream of supremely yin, foul aura rose like a blazing star and pierced straight through the nine heavens!
"You are... the Chen family's ancestor?"
The enormous spirit beast's voice wavered with uncertainty. His body also hesitated, unable to advance or retreat.
The Chen family's ancestor? Me?
Mo Chuan's heart stirred, and he lowered his head slightly to look at himself.
He found himself floating above a spirit tablet. His body was transparent and ethereal, while everything below his waist was faintly present and faintly absent, impossible to make out.
The bean-sized candle flame beside him cast a long shadow from the spirit tablet, yet there was no sign of his shadow.
I, I've... become a ghost?
Mo Chuan's heart pounded wildly. He had no idea whether this was a hallucination or some bizarre transmigration.
"No wonder the Chen family neither hid nor fled. So they relied on their ancestor's protection! What a pity, what a pity. Your form has scattered and vanished; you are already a dead ghost turned into a Jie. Ghosts fear them when they see them, but I am no ghost."
Huang Buyu said coldly. (Jie was pronounced like "jian.")
Yet despite his words, he stared fixedly at Mo Chuan, motionless as a mountain.
Jie? What did that mean?
Mo Chuan's heart suddenly rose to his throat.
Still, judging from the Yellow Weasel Spirit's words, he vaguely guessed part of the meaning.
Had this spirit beast misunderstood something?
It was clearly testing him now. The moment it discovered he was merely putting on a fierce front while weak within, it would surely strike with lethal force!
What should he do?
If this was all merely a hallucination, then so be it;
But if this truly was bizarre transmigration, he could not afford the slightest carelessness!
"You have some discernment, at least. You know that a dead ghost becomes a Jie."
Mo Chuan did not directly answer the Yellow Weasel Spirit's words, instead shifting the subject without betraying anything.
"Do you take me for some beast from a desolate grave, illiterate and blind to the written word?"
The spirit beast sneered, then recited with some pride:
"The Collected Rhymes of the Five Tones once recorded: When humans die, they become ghosts, and humans fear them upon seeing them. When ghosts die, they become Jie, and ghosts fear them upon seeing them. Jie lose their forms; only by consuming incense offerings can they take shape anew and become ghosts again."
Damn!
Ghosts could die a second time?
So I was a rank lower than ghosts?
Mo Chuan felt bitter. In this state, how was he supposed to "relieve human calamities"?
"Then do you know where I come from?"
Mo Chuan's heart was uneasy, yet he had no choice but to keep changing the subject. While fishing for information, he searched for clues to break the deadlock.
"Hmph, you consume the Chen family's incense, so naturally you are a Chen family ancestor..."
As Huang Buyu spoke, his expression suddenly changed dramatically. Even his beastly face could not conceal his shock. "You, you come from... the Netherworld Underworld?"
He had been cautious for sixty years. Since he dared come to claim the Chen family boy's life as promised, he naturally had conducted a thorough investigation.
Or rather, when he had decided to seek investiture and cast away falsehood to preserve truth, he had already investigated Chen Village.
The Chen family had never possessed the protection of departed spirits.
He had watched the Chen family for so long and had never seen any outsider Jie!
This man had appeared from nowhere, and that terrifying phenomenon he had never witnessed before could only be explained by one thing: the Netherworld Underworld.
As for whether some wandering ghost had possessed the shrine?
That was even less possible!
Humans had prophetic words, and incense offerings had their proper channels.
Whoever received offerings of incense, that incense belonged to them. Others could not steal it in the slightest!
Otherwise, would not all the Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries beneath heaven have long become comfortable nests for demons and monsters?
"You are indeed widely learned."
Mo Chuan replied.
Since he had already been taken for a Chen family ancestor, he naturally came from the Netherworld Underworld. He might as well admit it.
"May I ask, sir, what does the Netherworld Underworld look like?"
Huang Buyu asked. Although he had already guessed the truth in his heart, his naturally cautious nature still made him ask.
It was both a means of verification and a way to leave himself a retreat.
As a spirit beast born of heaven and earth, the immortal path was vast, and the road blocked and difficult.
Even after casting away falsehood and preserving truth, condensing a human form, and forging an immortal foundation, he had merely reached the Human race's starting line.
He had endured too many tribulations. Instead of gaining sharpness, he had gained caution.
If he could learn in advance what the Netherworld Underworld was like, then when his own efforts failed one day, he could prepare early.
"What do you think the underworld is like?"
Mo Chuan asked, countless thoughts tumbling and bursting through his mind.
"People say the Netherworld Underworld is dark, gloomy, and terrifying, filled everywhere with wandering ghosts and jagged bones, too dreadful to behold."
"But where I live, people bustle in throngs. Prosperity blooms like flowers, and life is utterly carefree."
Mo Chuan spoke words that would not cease until they shocked the world. Since this spirit beast had asked that question, it was either seeking confirmation or humbly asking despite not knowing.
No matter how he answered, there was a fifty-percent chance he would guess wrong.
Since that was the case, he might as well gamble!
"What? Th-this is impossible?!" Huang Buyu was utterly stunned.
"Oh? Why is it impossible?" Mo Chuan asked, secretly releasing a breath of relief. He had guessed right.
"I heard that the Netherworld Underworld is a prison and execution ground where the Ghost Emperor and the Kings of Hell interrogate and punish sinners. How could it possibly bloom with prosperity and be so carefree?"
"The so-called Netherworld Underworld is nothing more than a self-consoling tale fabricated by people whose grievances cannot be aired and whose appeals have nowhere to go. You are a great demon—do you also believe such rumors passed from mouth to mouth?"
Mo Chuan paused, then continued:
"Besides, if the Ghost Emperor and Kings of Hell possessed the power to judge, why would they not cut the problem off at its root? Why insist on doing the useless work of mending the pen after the sheep are gone?"
Huang Buyu stared, tongue-tied. "Sir... you are not deceiving me?"
Mo Chuan smiled. "If I were deceiving you, wouldn't that be exactly what you wanted?"
Huang Buyu froze, only coming back to his senses after a long while. A tumult of emotions surged through his heart. "You've made a laughingstock of me, sir!"
His questioning about the Netherworld Underworld was, at its root, an act of cowardice.
After sixty years of cultivation, while he had never taken a life, he had often drained the vital essence of others. If the Netherworld Underworld truly existed, his fate after death would be too dreadful to contemplate.
At this moment, he had also intended to kill the Chen family boy, draining the pond dry to catch every fish and replenish his cultivation.
If the Chen family ancestor had meant to stop him, why had he said, "Prosperous times bloom like flowers"?
According to folk tales, wouldn't it have been wonderful simply to frighten him a little?
Looking at it this way, the Chen family ancestor's words were not only frank—they were likely born of absolute confidence!
That was true. Someone who could cross over from the Netherworld Underworld on nothing more than a wisp of incense offering could hardly be mediocre. Still, to be safe, he needed to test him.
With that thought, Huang Buyu's mind stirred. The billowing thick smoke in the ancestral hall vanished in an instant.
His horrifying, savage form abruptly deflated like a punctured pig bladder, transforming into a weasel half the height of a man.
Dressed in wide robes with flowing sleeves, he took out a stack of transparent objects from his robes and presented them. "Today, I have been fortunate enough to receive your guidance despite past grievances. Huang is ashamed to accept it. This painted skin was made from the flesh of someone who died a violent death, steeped in yin Baleful Intent. It may serve as transportation for you, sir."
As his words fell, the painted skin flew toward the shrine.
"You've put thought into it. Mo will keep it, then," Mo Chuan said with a smile.
"Mo... Mo?" Huang Buyu stared in astonishment. Wasn't he the Chen family ancestor? Why was his surname Mo?
Seeing this, Mo Chuan remained utterly unruffled and offered no explanation.
"Pull back from the brink; no virtue is greater. I hope you will conduct yourself well!"
After saying that, his body suddenly became transparent, vanishing before Huang Buyu and the Chen father and son.
At the same time, a wisp of incense ash fell from the offering incense in the twin-eared, three-legged censer with a soft pat, and the last ember quietly went out.
The blue smoke shrouding it also lost its source at that moment and gradually dispersed into nothing.
Huang Buyu stared blankly at the scene. When he finally came back to himself, his legs had gone weak, and he nearly collapsed to the ground.
The yin Baleful Intent of the painted skin could do nothing to him, and he could come and go freely through the Netherworld Underworld.
Wh-what kind of mighty power was that?
So everything the elder had said just now had been a test?!
Before you continue