Chapter Forty-Nine: Speculation

The Heavenly Emperor does not show himself, and the divine offices are difficult to change.

Su Yuanbai’s pitch-black eyes contracted slightly. When he heard Duan Lingqi mention this phrase, his heart suddenly thudded violently for reasons he could not fathom.

Yet the Divine Sovereign Duan Lingqi spoke of seemed to have the power to alter divine offices.

But when Su Yuanbai heard the mention of the Divine Sovereign, he felt nothing at all. There was not the slightest jolt in his heart, not even a flicker of response in his eyes.

Had he reacted equally to both, or not at all, he might not have been so troubled. But now, faced with such a stark contrast, and recalling the scenes he had witnessed in that painting, Su Yuanbai could not help but speculate.

Especially when he had journeyed from the plain of red spider lilies to the shadowed hills of the Underworld. In the haze of his memories, he vaguely remembered scenes of receiving worship.

That was why, following the blurred outlines of his recollection, he had reached out to touch Qu Hancheng’s brow.

He ought to possess the power of investiture as well.

Was it the Heavenly Emperor to whom he was connected? Or was it the Divine Sovereign who climbed the Sacred Tree and touched the heavens? If both were tied to him, why then had he been imprisoned in the dungeon?

Moreover, why had he lost all memory of his past?

“To presume upon Heaven’s will, to show no reverence for gods or ghosts, to forsake the law… could it be that this is what it speaks of?” Su Yuanbai murmured to himself.

Strangely, the memories into which he had slipped were not extinguished with the burning of the painting. Instead, they remained one of the clearest fragments in his otherwise clouded mind.

So too was the suffering he had endured in the eighteen levels of hell.

“What did you say?” Duan Lingqi, hearing Su Yuanbai’s mutterings, hurriedly stepped forward, concern evident in his voice.

“It’s nothing,” Su Yuanbai replied calmly.

If those ethereal words from the painting were not mere nonsense, then his three souls should be incomplete, and his seven spirits withered and near extinction. Yet Su Yuanbai felt no lack in himself.

Was it Heaven’s pity that had left him with a sliver of life?

He let out a self-deprecating laugh, shook his head, and looked ahead to where the Rakshasa had halted before a dilapidated mansion.

Duan Lingqi, hearing Su Yuanbai’s inexplicable laugh, could not help but feel a surge of panic. Had his lord truly been possessed by someone else?

Duan Lingqi had entered Canghai from Yunhaizhou, following the waterways indicated by his lord within the prison cell, to return once more to Sanyu Island. Upon sneaking back into the dungeon, he heard news that his lord had died.

At first, he thought the wardens were merely spinning tales. But when he saw them bring in a coroner, he realized it might not be a fabrication after all.

Yet, it didn’t quite add up. Who could possibly possess someone of his lord’s power? And if it had truly happened, where had his lord’s soul gone?

While Duan Lingqi’s thoughts ran wild, Xi Chunxue and Qu Hancheng, trailing behind, were pondering the same question as they watched Su Yuanbai from afar.

“You’re saying his temperament changed after he died?” Xi Chunxue turned to Qu Hancheng and asked.

“In the past, he barely spoke to us, only exchanging a few words with the warden or deputy warden, or else conversing with some inmates during time in the yard. I can’t even be certain if he was truly dead then, but the prison’s coroner said he was. And ever since he woke, he’s been asking very strange questions,” Qu Hancheng replied, his gaze lingering on Su Yuanbai’s back, unsure.

“What kind of strange questions?” Xi Chunxue asked.

“Who he is,” Qu Hancheng said.

“This phenomenon does occur in some who have been possessed, but often such people act with great caution, never so openly. He must have lost his memory for some unknown reason,” Xi Chunxue shook her head.

Just now, she and Qu Hancheng had been discussing Su Yuanbai. Her curiosity about his origins had led her to probe further.

Possession was simply impossible.

The Biluo Dungeon’s position within the Prison of Bi Zhen was already unique, and furthermore, the Prison of Bi Zhen was not an underworld prison for ghosts, and did not bind souls. The towering Temple of the Prison God stood watch.

Moreover, Sanyu Island was far from the twelve provinces.

What master could possibly project their spirit or soul across the sea, infiltrate the dungeon, and possess that handsome man’s body?

Such a master would also have to be versed in divination, to foresee the exact moment of death.

But most critically, the handsome man’s soul would have to have already been taken by the underworld’s messengers, or else utterly destroyed.

Had Xi Chunxue not witnessed that man’s extraordinary powers in the underworld, she might have believed Qu Hancheng’s theory of possession.

But since she had seen it, she knew that for the messengers to claim his soul, or for it to be scattered, was impossible. To achieve such a thing would require an immortal or deity beyond the cycle of life and death.

“Our daily meals are all the same, drawn from the communal pot, so it’s not as if someone could have drugged him. Then how did he suddenly lose his memory?” Qu Hancheng asked in confusion.

In his mind, that handsome man was a figure of unparalleled mastery—how could one like him simply forget?

“It was certainly not your doing. The backlash from cultivation, or a deviation in practice, could lead to such a result. But do not trouble yourself with his origins; they are no longer for us to guess,” Xi Chunxue said, her gaze deep as she watched Su Yuanbai approach the vermilion doors of the ruined mansion.

Qu Hancheng nodded silently. Suddenly, he turned to look behind him. There was nothing—no ghost, no shadow—yet he could not escape the feeling that something was watching him.

“What is it?” Xi Chunxue, catching his odd behavior out of the corner of her eye, asked.

She kept Qu Hancheng within her sight, wary of the two Netherworld monsters that sometimes affected his left eye, so she could assist in time if needed.

Even if she could not help, she could find a way to seek aid from the handsome man.

“I feel as though someone is watching me,” Qu Hancheng said uncertainly.

“All the ghosts here were cleared by that Yaksha who passed through earlier; there’s nothing left to spy on us,” Xi Chunxue replied, glancing back as well. Behind them stretched a flat expanse, and in the distance, ten miles off, loomed the black walls of Northshade City and the soul-calling banners on its ramparts.

At some point, they had already left the city and reached the outskirts.

On the barren ground outside the city stood a single dilapidated mansion, its signboard half-fallen, the characters upon it long since faded and illegible.

“Perhaps I’m just overthinking it,” Qu Hancheng said, shaking his head. He had experienced so many unexpected events of late, it was natural for his mind to be unsettled and prone to wild imaginings.

But he failed to notice that, at some point, intricate black markings had appeared on his back—complex, writhing patterns that gradually formed the shape of an eye.