Chapter Sixty-Four: Transformation

In these seven hundred years, eight generations of Qin emperors have come and gone, and countless wardens have presided over the Prison Directorate, yet this handsome man still lives.

Neither the passage of time nor the countless accidents devised by Xie Miu'an could defeat him. Not even the brutal brawls among the demon prisoners in the dungeon, nor the repeated swinging of the Soul-Summoning Banner, could lure forth the soul of this striking man.

Twenty years ago, Xie Miu'an was already on the verge of giving up. He had tried to refine a divine beast soul, hoping not only that it might guide him into the underworld and make him a wild god, but also to test whether such a soul could harm this beautiful man.

Yet, even the most intricate calculations fell short by one crucial step.

This time would be his final effort. He used the lure of a priceless treasure on Sangyu Island to draw cultivators from the Twelve Provinces, then had the Sancang Sea ships transport them to Sangyu Island in the guise of wardens, prisoners, and other roles.

The price for these machinations was the Ninth-Grade Immortal Elixir, the Slayer’s Yuan Pill.

No one suspected Xie Miu'an, the ghostly jailer, not even Shen Zhongzhu, who had once noticed something amiss but could do nothing about it.

Seven centuries were more than enough for Xie Miu'an to accomplish much.

Matters of life and death are paramount.

And Xie Miu'an possessed powers that could influence life and death, abilities that allowed him to befriend several wardens. Some returned to obscurity in the Twelve Provinces, but should one rise to power, the rest would fall into place.

For instance, arranging for Li Xiaoyan, a cultivator, to become the deputy warden of this very Sangyu Island.

“So why are you telling us this now?” Su Yuanbai finally spoke, his gaze calm as he looked at the frail, refined man who had schemed for centuries to kill him. He felt nothing—not even the faintest anger.

“If I cannot kill you, then I shall join you.” Xie Miu'an sighed softly as he looked at Su Yuanbai.

Su Yuanbai merely gazed at him in silence.

“Master, this man is not to be trusted! What if he stabs you in the back?” Duan Lingqi urged anxiously. He had no desire for another rival vying for their lord’s favor—especially one as formidable as this.

“Black and White Impermanence have already returned to the Palace of Yama, and reported my deeds. My name has been added once more to the Book of Life and Death.” Xie Miu'an opened his hand, revealing a palm stained with fresh, vivid blood, streaked with darker threads.

“If your name is in the Book of Life and Death, why aren’t you dead yet?” Duan Lingqi muttered, glancing at the golden-eyed white tiger prowling nearby.

“Before, adding my name to the book was trivial—I was just an ordinary man. But now, even though my name is written, I do not die immediately.

I have been a ghost cultivator for over seven centuries; writing my name merely means the slow return of time’s decay upon me.

Life and death may be fated, but like other cultivators, I have defied fate. Yet, it seems even I cannot resist the Book of Life and Death forever.”

Wrinkles creased Xie Miu'an’s once youthful face. He coughed again, spattering blood, and then forced a smile.

“Your luck is quite remarkable,” Su Yuanbai remarked evenly as he turned to look at the great bronze doors behind him.

“Is my luck remarkable?” Duan Lingqi asked, puzzled, glancing at Su Yuanbai.

“I believe he means me,” Xie Miu'an replied with a weak chuckle, shaking his head. In these short exchanges, he had withered into a stooped old man with sparse white hair.

“I had wondered how Black and White Impermanence found him so quickly. Even with the Book of Life and Death, they should not have been sent directly by Yama’s side.

Now I realize—I overlooked one detail.” Su Yuanbai’s tone was calm.

“What detail?” Xie Miu'an’s voice was now a rasp from deep in his throat.

“What did the Yama King look like, when you saw him a thousand years ago?” Su Yuanbai turned to Duan Lingqi.

“I once saw a statue in a temple at Lingxiu County on Mount Dongxu. If memory serves, he wore a black gauze cap, a belt of horn, and a brocade robe. His face was black as lacquer, his expression fearsome, hair wild about the ears, beard flying about his cheeks.” Duan Lingqi recalled slowly after much thought.

“No, that’s not right... His face was pale, crowned and veiled... With sachets hanging to shield his ears, clad in a wide-sleeved robe with lotus-trimmed collar and boots. Both hands held a tablet at his chest, seated upright and dignified.” Xie Miu'an shook his head. Though breathless moments before, he suddenly felt a surge of vitality and spoke with newfound clarity.

“Was I mistaken?” Duan Lingqi scratched the icy scales at his chin. Aside from his feud with that little beast from Cloudhole Lake, his memories were foggy.

“You were not mistaken. It’s just that Yama is no longer the same.” Su Yuanbai turned, his dark eyes resting on Qu Hanchen, lying at Xi Chunxue’s feet.

Xi Chunxue looked down at Qu Hanchen. The complex, black, enigmatic patterns once more emerged on his body, shifting with a strange, living energy.

“You... succeeded?” Xi Chunxue drew a deep breath and looked up at Su Yuanbai.

“Yes, but it seems the Yama I once appointed is not fond of me,” Su Yuanbai replied tranquilly.

Xie Miu'an’s eyes widened in disbelief at these words. The Soul-Summoning Banner, sealing the arched doorway, suddenly unfurled, white paper veiling the entire corridor.

“Say that again?” Xie Miu'an demanded, incredulous.

Su Yuanbai merely gazed at Qu Hanchen in silence.

“It’s not a lie?” Xi Chunxue inhaled deeply, her voice trembling despite herself.

“Then, Master, can you truly make me the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea?!” Duan Lingqi suddenly grew wildly excited, turning to Su Yuanbai.

“I can,” Su Yuanbai replied, glancing at him.

“Please, Master, do it now!” Duan Lingqi pleaded, unable to contain himself.

“You truly wish to be the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea?” Su Yuanbai asked with a sudden, gentle smile.

“Yes!” Duan Lingqi’s mind was entirely lost in sudden, overwhelming joy and failed to notice the faint, teasing curve at Su Yuanbai’s lips.

“Very well.” Su Yuanbai placed his left hand lightly atop Duan Lingqi’s head. Instantly, golden, ancient script appeared, densely covering Su Yuanbai’s body, converging upon his left arm, and slowly channeling through his fingers into Duan Lingqi’s crown.

Xi Chunxue’s eyes narrowed in shock at the sight. She had thought these golden celestial seals were meant to subdue primeval demons, but now she saw they were the divine script she had glimpsed deep beneath the Jade Lotus Pool in the Palace of Endless Mountains!

“But wait! Master, why don’t I feel any different? Have I really become the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea?” As Su Yuanbai withdrew his hand, Duan Lingqi hurriedly felt the bump on his forehead, but found no dragon horns had grown as he had expected.