Chapter 50: Innocence

Two lanterns hung before the vermilion gates of the dilapidated mansion. On the high stone steps, a few stray weeds swayed, having forced their way up through the cracks. The stone lions flanking the gate had long since lost the stone pearls once held in their mouths, those tokens vanished without a trace.

“You all need to draw closer together,” said the Rakshasa with crimson hair and emerald eyes, glancing back at the disordered group behind him.

Nearest to the Rakshasa stood Su Yuanbai, followed a step behind by Duan Lingqi. A few paces further back were Qu Hancheng and Xi Chunxue, while the most distant, Lin Lan, was no stranger to brushing past the gates of death.

“Move closer. Once these doors open, who knows how many lost souls and wandering ghosts desperate to return to the world of the living will be drawn here.” Lin Lan slowly advanced, passing by Qu Hancheng and Xi Chunxue as he spoke his warning.

“By rights, the Ghost Gate Pass is the one boundary all spirits must cross to reach the underworld. Only the twelve ghost cities of the provinces have the authority to establish one. So why is there another Ghost Gate Pass here?” Xi Chunxue asked, gazing at Lin Lan as he moved past.

This question had troubled her since the courtroom, but as she was still under investigation and looking for a way to extricate herself, she had kept her doubts to herself.

“By rights, to come and go through the Ghost Gate Pass, one must carry a yellow road pass, three feet long and two feet wide. Yet you haven’t asked about that, have you? And the eighteen Punishing Kings of Evil, who are meant to stand vigil on either side of the gate, are nowhere to be seen either.” Lin Lan looked back with a quiet laugh.

Xi Chunxue hesitated, her gaze fixed on Lin Lan’s faint smile. She could not mistake the tone—this Deputy Warden Lin was mocking her.

“How many years did you spend cultivating in the mountains?” Lin Lan’s smile faded, and his refined features were calm as he addressed the young woman.

“Twenty-six years,” Xi Chunxue replied.

“At your age, you must have entered the mountain to study the Way as a child?” Lin Lan asked, the trace of a smile returning.

“Yes,” Xi Chunxue nodded.

“According to the prison records transferred from Yunhai Prefecture, you were imprisoned for plotting against your elders and indulging violence.” Lin Lan’s tone remained gentle.

“I was wronged,” Xi Chunxue said, taking a deep breath. The mention of her alleged crimes nearly made her lose control, but with effort, she steadied herself.

“Of course you were. Judging by your innocent conduct alone, you hardly seem the sort to commit such deeds.” Lin Lan did not contradict her, but merely smiled.

“There are those with talent and good bones, and with a bit of insight, after decades of silent meditation in the mountains, the Way is not hard to attain. The difficulty is in those decades of solitude. The difficulty is the human heart. Who can truly see through the hearts of others?

Wuliang Mountain is a place of great fortune, and the Palace of Langhuan is a fine temple for cultivation—but people are another matter.” Lin Lan suddenly sighed.

“Wuliang Mountain needs no appraisal from you, nor is it the place of a Daoist from Chaoyuan Monastery to pass judgment on Langhuan Palace. And what does any of this have to do with my question? If you don’t wish to answer, then simply don’t, but spare me your evasions,” Xi Chunxue retorted coldly.

“How many years has it been since your Golden Mother, the Lady of Primordial Virtue, last manifested herself?” Lin Lan asked quietly, his gaze steady.

“What concern is that of yours?” Xi Chunxue had no desire to respond further to this refined man.

“In the fifty years since I left the mountain at my master’s command to wander the mortal world, I have seen all manner of demons and monsters. I have met the Night Patrol Gods, the City Gods of many towns, and even, on occasion, one or two of the Ten Kings of Hell.

But as for the Northern Emperor Tai, patron of Chaoyuan Monastery, from the day I entered the temple to this very moment, I have not seen him manifest,” Lin Lan said evenly.

“The Northern Emperor Tai is a supreme deity, the ancestor of all ghosts in the world, far above ordinary ghosts and gods who might be casually encountered. You know this as well as I do,” Xi Chunxue replied, her tone icy.

“But what if it is not a matter of cannot be seen, but that they are simply gone?” Lin Lan’s eyes opened wide now, their blue depths fixed calmly on Xi Chunxue.

“Impossible!” Xi Chunxue cried.

“Who could have foreseen that the Divine Emperor would rise from the wilds of Northern Youzhou—an insignificant state, last among ten nations—and go on to destroy nine kingdoms and unite the twelve provinces? And which cultivator could have imagined that this Divine Emperor, who neither practiced the Dao nor refined his energy nor consumed elixirs, would ascend the sacred tree as a mortal sovereign and open a path to the heavens, even releasing celestial energy into the mortal world?

Nothing is impossible—only unimagined.

Those cultivators who rose to prominence after the Divine Emperor’s time, who murdered for treasures, seized blessed lands, proclaimed themselves patriarchs, founded sects—did any gods or immortals descend to punish them? Occasionally, a righteous god from the Department of Thunder might send a so-called ‘calamity cloud’ to mete out retribution, but there were also cultivators of profound skill who entered the cloud, captured the Thunder Lord, and refined him into a puppet spirit.

And even so, there has been no sign of the Supreme Lord of Thunder, Jade Purity of Nine Heavens, in the Palace of Divine Firmament.” Lin Lan’s blue eyes regarded Xi Chunxue, whose face had turned ashen.

“It seems you’re well aware that the immortals and gods no longer reveal themselves,” Lin Lan said with a small shake of his head, noting the pallor on Xi Chunxue’s face, though she showed not a trace of fear or shock.

“Twelve provinces, twelve ghost cities—that is how it is supposed to be. But the world is no longer as it should be. At least this Ghost Gate Pass retains some appearance of ritual. Yet those who refine ghosts and practice the Way of Shadows care nothing for the ancient customs of gods and immortals. The sky above has long been riddled with holes,” Lin Lan said with a faint laugh, glancing up at the dim, ashen heavens overhead.

“It matters nothing to me. I only wish to focus on my cultivation,” Xi Chunxue replied, her breath heavy.

“And that is why I say you are naive,” Lin Lan said, shaking his head as he walked to stand behind Su Yuanbai and Duan Lingqi. The two of them already stood on the steps of the ruined mansion, while the Rakshasa waited at the vermilion gate, the skull of a ram glaring at Xi Chunxue and Qu Hancheng, who had yet to come up.

“Are you all right?” Qu Hancheng asked, turning to Xi Chunxue, who clung tightly to his sleeve. It was the first time he had seen her so pale and shaken.

“I’m fine. Let’s go,” Xi Chunxue replied, closing her eyes and then opening them again, her breath growing steadier, though her face remained colorless.

With Qu Hancheng and Xi Chunxue ascending the tall steps at last, the Rakshasa took the Ghost Gate token from Su Yuanbai and held it before the beast ring on the vermilion door.

Abruptly, the bestial visage on the door’s knocker yawned wide, the iron ring falling as its gaping maw revealed rows of jagged fangs, snapping open and shut.

“Your road pass!” came a sudden shout.

“Where is it!” echoed another.

The two lanterns hanging either side of the great doors blazed to life, turning toward the group on the steps. Within each flame, a pair of scarlet ghost eyes glared out.

A wind rose from nowhere, whipping up sand as grotesque fiends clawed their way from the earth. From the depths of the whirling dust, a towering shadow three fathoms high loomed, its aura terrifying. Cracks began to appear in the stone lions flanking the gate.

With a sharp crack, the stone lions shattered.