In a rough-hewn stone palace of the Nine Li tribe, Yang Jiao had brought Chen Xiang, his three companions, and the bird back. They sat on stone stools around a table as white as jade.
Yang Jiao asked, though he knew the answer, "Chen Xiang, what brought you here? This isn't a place for the living!"
Chen Xiang's handsome face flushed with excitement. He had never known his uncle was so powerful. Even Ao Chun had been no match for that old ghost, yet the ghost had not dared to act up in front of his uncle.
He said nothing, only glanced at Ao Chun and the others. Yang Jiao approved inwardly but gave nothing away. With a smile, he said, "Enjoy yourselves, my young friends. Chen Xiang and I have a few things to discuss!"
"Of course, of course!" they replied with awkward smiles.
In the rear hall, Chen Xiang told him everything: how he had left Liu Family Village, how he had come to the Netherworld, and even his trip to Mount Hua. He left nothing out.
The more Yang Jiao heard, the darker his expression grew. After a long while, he gave a cold laugh. "Hah. He can't bear to give up his position as Heavenly God of Justice!"
"The Heavenly God of Justice doesn't govern people or protect them. He governs gods and upholds the laws of heaven!"
As Yang Jiao spoke, he erased his words so they would leave no trace in history.
After all, a man spreading lies was bound to feel a little guilty—especially when he was slandering his own brother, whose cultivation was nearly equal to his.
Though Yang Jian had been named Heavenly God of Justice, he had never dealt with such matters. His temple was practically gathering dust.
Sure enough,