Down to the Underworld

Wen Ning opened the Heavenly Court Work Group's member list, found Meng Jiang's profile picture, and sent her a private message.

"Meng Jiang, can I ask you something? Can the Underworld look up a mortal's ancestors? A mortal named Zhou Hu has been having an abnormal run of bad luck this past month. It isn't the Misfortune Star's doing, so I suspect something's wrong on his grandfather's end."

Meng Jiang replied almost immediately.

"Wen Ning, give me some more details."

Wen Ning explained Zhou Hu's situation again.

After hearing him out, Meng Jiang replied.

"The timing coincides with his grandfather's death, and the bad luck isn't coming from the Heavenly Court. There's a strong chance an ancestor is restless. But to confirm it, your best bet is to ask the person himself—Zhou Hu's grandfather. He probably hasn't reincarnated yet and is still waiting for his assignment in the Underworld, so he'll be easy to find. You're with the Thunder Department, Wen Ning, so you have inspection privileges. I can get you a temporary pass. You just need to come down here."

Wen Ning stared at the message. Go down to hell? Then he glanced at the pitch-black night outside his window.

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Ghosts are active at night, so questioning them is more efficient."

Wen Ning thought it over, then agreed without further hesitation.

"All right."

The moment he sent the message, his body began to sink. Now that Wen Ning was an earth immortal, his soul no longer had to leave his body; he could enter the Underworld in the flesh.

And unlike last time, Wen Ning was no longer flustered. As time passed,

Wen Ning arrived at the Underworld's Ghost Gate.

A long line stretched out before the gate, filled with newly deceased souls. Some looked bewildered, some hung their heads and sobbed, and some were still bargaining with the Ghost Messengers beside them.

A bleak feeling hung in the air, though it was somewhat dispelled by occasional cries of "Can I cut in line?" and "I've got connections!"—habits carried over from the human world.

Meng Jiang was already waiting for him.

"Meng Jiang, why did you come down here yourself?"

Seeing Meng Jiang waiting for him, Wen Ning felt a little embarrassed. He was cutting into her time off.

"It's fine. I wanted to come down and have a look anyway."

Meng Jiang was still wearing her Thunder Department uniform.

She held a token in her hand and passed it straight to Wen Ning.

"A temporary pass, valid for twenty-four hours. Wen Ning, what's Zhou Hu's grandfather's name?"

Only then did Wen Ning realize he had never asked Zhou Hu his grandfather's name. He quickly took out his phone and sent Gong Kai a message.

To his surprise, there was even reception in the Underworld. Gong Kai replied instantly with a name: "Zhou Weiguo."

Meng Jiang nodded and led Wen Ning into the staff passage. The Ghost Messengers guarding the entrance stepped aside when they saw her token.

In the room at the end of the staff passage, a gray-robed Ghost Messenger was looking through files in front of a bookshelf. When he saw Meng Jiang approach, he set his work aside.

"Look up Zhou Weiguo. He arrived just over a month ago. He should be in the pending assignment area."

Meng Jiang spoke without ceremony. This was her territory, after all.

The gray-robed Ghost Messenger pulled a thick register from the shelf, moistened his finger with saliva, and turned a few pages before pointing to a line.

"Zhou Weiguo, eighty-seven years old. Died of natural causes, with great merit to his name. Currently in Section A of the pending assignment area. His turn for reincarnation hasn't come yet."

Hearing this, Meng Jiang turned to Wen Ning.

"He hasn't reincarnated yet."

Wen Ning breathed a sigh of relief when he heard that Zhou Weiguo had yet to reincarnate.

Meng Jiang then led Wen Ning to the reincarnation hall. Souls awaiting reincarnation sat on rows of benches. Some read Underworld newspapers, some played cards, and others drank tea and chatted. There was even a little shop in the corner selling snacks folded from spirit money and tea brewed with the Waters of Forgetfulness.

Wen Ning swept his gaze across the hall, finally settling on an old man seated by a window.

The old man was different from the other souls. Everyone else was chatting or playing cards in little groups.

He alone sat neatly on a bench, his back ramrod straight.

His hands rested on his knees. He wore an old but tidy Zhongshan suit, with an old military medal pinned to his chest.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Zhou Weiguo?"

Wen Ning walked up to him and asked instinctively.

The old man raised his head, looked him up and down, then nodded.

"That's me. Who are you? You don't look like you're here to reincarnate, and you don't look like a Ghost Messenger either."

Wen Ning explained who he was, then told the old man what had been happening to Zhou Hu in the human world.

As he listened to Zhou Hu's troubles, the curiosity and confusion on the old man's face gave way to heartache. Finally, he let out a deep sigh.

"That poor boy. How did he end up dealing with something like this?"

Zhou Weiguo shook his head and lightly struck his knee with one calloused hand.

"He was the one I worried about most when I died. My son died young, and my daughter-in-law remarried. That boy grew up with me. I taught him to be upright, to have a conscience, and to honor his ancestors. He took all of it to heart. He's a little soft, but he's honest. He's a good boy."

Wen Ning asked,

"Sir, did you have any regrets when you passed away?"

Zhou Weiguo fell silent. He lowered his head and looked at the aged hands resting on his knees.

A deep old scar ran from the web between his thumb and forefinger all the way to his wrist, left by a bayonet.

He stared at that scar for a long while before speaking.

"I joined the Eighth Route Army when I was sixteen. I fought more battles in my life than that boy has eaten meals. We drove out the Japanese, then drove out old Chiang. Once there was peace, I went back home to farm. Honestly, I don't have much to regret about my life."

The old man fondly stroked the military medal on his chest, memories of the past flashing through his eyes.

"My regimental commander gave me this medal for my service fighting the Japanese in Northwest Shanxi. I'd planned to hand it to the boy myself before I died, so he could keep it as a memento. But that day, when I was in the hospital, he was away on business and couldn't get back in time. I waited until my very last breath, but he never made it."

There was a trace of reluctance to let go in his voice.

"Afterward, who knows where that medal went? There were so many people coming and going at the hospital. It probably got lost while they were packing up my things."

Wen Ning continued,

"Sir, Zhou Hu's bad luck this past month has nothing to do with you, does it?"

Zhou Weiguo looked up at him in surprise, wondering why this young man would say such a thing. Then he shook his head.

"I have no quarrel with that boy. He's my own grandson. Why would I bring him bad luck? I, Zhou Weiguo, lived an honest, upright life. I never burdened anyone while I was alive, and I won't burden my own grandson now that I'm dead. If I find out what's hurting Hu, I'll kill the bastard."

His hand, covered in old scars, instinctively clenched into a fist.

"Back when I fought the Japanese, I saw every kind of monster there was."

Wen Ning stood up and bowed to Zhou Weiguo, his tone earnest.

"Sir, rest assured. I'll see your grandson's case through to the end."

Zhou Weiguo looked up at him and nodded.

"Then I'm counting on you."

Wen Ning was about to turn and leave when he suddenly stopped and looked back.

"Sir, one more question. During the war, did you ever capture anything unusual? A Japanese military sword or flag, for example?"

Zhou Weiguo thought carefully.

"Nothing like that, but I did once have something rather unusual."

"Something unusual? What was it?"

At last, Wen Ning had heard exactly what he was looking for.

(Looking at the stats is making me fall apart.)