Chapter Thirty-Nine: Reflection

The massive crimson bronze doors were thrown wide open. Behind the judge of ghosts, two rows of armored ghost soldiers entered the prison first, their axes and blades gleaming with a cold, dark light.

"I was considering how to punish you, but now, not only have you escaped from the ghost prison, you've wounded the ghost soldiers. That's more than enough to send you three wild spirits straight to the Sixteen Heart-Piercing Infernal Chambers to suffer eternal torment."

The judge of ghosts stepped slowly through the crimson bronze doors, hands clasped behind his back. A faintly amused smile played on his pitch-black face as he gazed at Duan Lingqi and his companions, trapped and immobilized under the black net.

Seeing this, Duan Lingqi immediately tried to retreat the way they had come, but the crimson wooden door beneath his feet refused to yield even a fraction, and instead he ended up dropping Xi Chunxue and Qu Hancheng from his back.

It was clear that the wooden door he'd rammed before was not nearly as sturdy as this one.

With every attempt to break through, strands of black netting slowly surfaced beneath Duan Lingqi's dragon form; each collision was entirely absorbed by this net, whose origins and grade were unknown, but whose power was undeniable.

"Still resisting? Take them to the Hall of Ghosts. I want to interrogate these three wild spirits thoroughly," the judge commanded coldly.

"No," Xi Chunxue said, pressing down on Qu Hancheng's restless hand, shaking her head as she saw his left eye begin to open in agitation.

"This damned black net won't give at all!" Duan Lingqi twisted and turned within its mesh, but no matter what he tried, he couldn't tear it apart, only exhausting himself further.

"Even if we could break free of this unknown net, with all these ghost officials and soldiers outside, I fear the monster in your eye would be difficult to control. If things escalate, not only will we fail to escape, but you'll pay a price you shouldn't have to," Xi Chunxue said gravely, watching Qu Hancheng's trembling left eye.

"So what should we do?" Qu Hancheng sighed, his right eye following the judge as he walked away.

"Wait," Xi Chunxue replied.

"Wait again?" Qu Hancheng asked.

Xi Chunxue nodded, her gaze deep as she watched the approaching Ox-Head and Horse-Face, followed by the Rakshasa and Yasha. She lowered her head to look at the tightly shut crimson wooden door beneath them.

As she expected, nothing was as simple as it seemed.

Throughout their escape, they'd encountered little resistance, which had already struck her as odd. Despite Duan Lingqi's swift movements and reckless determination, aided by her own speed spell, they'd managed to evade the Ox-Head, Horse-Face, Rakshasa, and Yasha guarding the prison.

But elsewhere, there were only weak ghost soldiers; none of the more formidable ghost officials like Ox-Head and Horse-Face appeared, which was unusual. These beings weren't rare—they were native to the underworld, among its millions of denizens.

Moreover, when they broke through several iron doors and reached the area where evil ghosts were punished, the ghost soldiers were not alarmed by their appearance. It was only when they toppled instruments of torture and released the evil ghosts that the soldiers intervened.

Most peculiar was the ghost official controlled by Qu Hancheng: its vacant eyes weren't like those he'd previously manipulated, but rather like something under someone else's control.

This was strange indeed.

"Are you sure you were controlling that ghost soldier just now?" Xi Chunxue whispered in Qu Hancheng's ear.

Ox-Head and Horse-Face had already picked up one end of the black net, lifting it—and the captives—together, with the Rakshasa and Yasha following behind.

These two weren't the same as those guarding the prison corridor. The blue-faced Ox-Head wielded a bronze trident and his twisted horns exuded a dense, visible aura of ghostly energy. Horse-Face, holding a green blade, seemed ordinary at first glance, but the aura around him was even more intense than Ox-Head's, forming a faint gray armor on his body.

The Rakshasa and Yasha in the rear were likely still the ones from the prison, as the Yasha carried no weapon and whispered privately with the red-haired, green-eyed Rakshasa.

"I think so..." Qu Hancheng replied hesitantly, his brow furrowed.

He wasn't foolish; Xi Chunxue's reminder made him realize that the ghost soldier he'd thought he'd controlled wasn't actually under his power. Yet, he could still sense a connection, clearly feeling the ghostly emotions swirling around it.

"Otherwise?" Qu Hancheng asked with his closed left eye.

Unable to make sense of it, he decided not to dwell. Since the handsome man’s gift wasn’t reliable, he still had one thing left.

"No," Xi Chunxue shook her head, closing her eyes.

Now she needed to rest, even though she couldn't absorb spiritual energy here. It was crucial to preserve her own vitality, especially since those two breaths of white mist earlier had truly damaged her core.

Was it worth it?

She wasn't sure. She only knew this: she'd rather have others owe her than owe anyone herself, for she wished to act with a clear conscience.

Thankfully, when Master Mingxu, acting on the orders of the Palace Mistress of Langhuan Palace, sent her to prison, he hadn't stripped her of her cultivation or taken her magical treasures—he had only separated her from her spirit pet and imprisoned them apart, allowing her to use her Dao arts for self-care.

Wait.

Suddenly, she understood why Master Mingxu had warned her never to attempt escape but to find a way to clear her name. If she broke out, she would be unable to defend herself against the charges of harming her master and letting her spirit pet attack others—and might even accrue worse crimes.

Xi Chunxue opened her eyes slightly, her gaze deep as she looked at the ghost shops lining both sides of the street.

Normally, Master Mingxu should strip away her twenty-six years of cultivation from the mountain, and if things were grave, use Dao arts to erase her memories of training. But he hadn't, likely because of orders from Langhuan Palace, which had not imposed such a penalty.

Yet the palace had ordered Master Mingxu to confiscate all her magical treasures. He hadn’t, not even the Mountain Grain Book Pavilion that symbolized her master’s lineage.

Could it be that Master Mingxu knew she was innocent? Why, then, did he not speak out for her before the palace mistress at Mount Wuliang?

Her master favored the teachings of Huang Lao, never quarreled or dueled, and had no known enemies. So who was responsible for his death?

Qi'er grew up on Yuhua Mountain, one of the seven peaks of Mount Wuliang, nourished by alchemical pills and never consuming blood or essence. Who untied Qi’er's spirit leash and sent it down the mountain to attack people?

Only now did Xi Chunxue let go of her obsession with quickly clearing her name in prison, beginning to truly consider the reasons behind all this.

She sighed softly, looking up at the gray sky above. Once she returned to the world of the living, she would need to seek out Master Mingxu herself—only then might she learn even a fragment of the truth.

It seems the world of the living may not be better than the underworld after all.