Chapter Nine: Setting the Board, Unrest in the North

All of this, though it sounds slow in the telling, transpired in the blink of an eye. From the moment the Lord of the Underworld raised his hand to gather the power of the Asura Realm, to the instant tens of thousands of armored soldiers were obliterated, not even a breath had passed.

“How is this possible…”

“Such power… How can it be you…”

The young man, witnessing this, felt boundless terror surge within his heart. His expression was no longer calm as before; his eyes overflowed with dread, and his voice trembled faintly.

“You have already reincarnated and begun your cultivation anew! I do not believe you could attain immortality in but a few short days!”

He paused briefly, bloodshot veins spreading across his eyes as his body shook uncontrollably. Swiftly, his hands formed complex seals.

A bead emanating an endless murderous aura appeared before him, radiating waves of dreadful power. The young man abruptly pointed at the Lord of the Underworld.

“Yellow Springs!”

Sensing the terrifying force, the Lord of the Underworld’s gaze flickered with a subtle, inscrutable glint. Without hesitation, he softly intoned a single word.

A thunderous explosion resounded, and the void itself began to tremble! As it collapsed, an illusory river surged into existence.

The sound of flowing water, as if capable of cleansing the souls of all beings, echoed through the air. The Lord of the Underworld formed a seal and gently pointed toward the youth.

The Yellow Springs, as if imbued with sentience, instantly transformed into a colossal, spectral finger the moment the Lord of the Underworld raised his hand.

Following his lead, it descended upon the young man with a world-shattering might.

“No!”

Sensing the annihilating force within the finger—power that seemed capable of destroying all creation—the young man’s eyes filled with unwillingness. He let out a desperate, soul-rending scream, his entire body radiating divine brilliance as he fought back with all his strength.

But it was futile; he could not resist in the slightest. The instant he touched the massive, ethereal finger, he was pinned mercilessly to the ground.

In that moment, wild winds erupted, the earth trembled, and the seas churned in turmoil!

The young man’s body shattered instantly, his soul annihilated, leaving no trace.

As the winds gradually died and the Yellow Springs receded, the ghastly rift in the heavens began to mend before the naked eye.

The Asura Realm faded away.

Peace returned to this place once more.

The only difference was the presence of tens of thousands of souls lingering in the void… and a bead saturated with blood-red light.

“Your grace is boundless, O Sovereign. Qingli kneels to thank you for your divine favor!”

Having witnessed the youth’s demise with her own eyes, two streams of clear tears slid down Qingli’s face. She bowed deeply to the Lord of the Underworld.

“The River of Forgetfulness can wash away all memories of past lives, but it can also awaken them.”

“If you survive three years of tempering in the Yellow Springs, I will grant you the power to command the Asura Realm.”

With a passing glance at the kneeling, weeping maiden in courtly robes, the Lord of the Underworld’s expression remained inscrutable. After these words, he waved his hand, and a phantom gateway appeared before all present.

“Beyond this gate lies the source of the Yellow Springs.”

With that, he spoke no more.

“I shall keep my promise, and once again, I thank you, O Sovereign.” Qingli did not hesitate; determination shone in her eyes. She bowed deeply once more, then rose and stepped through the illusory portal.

“Sovereign…” Mo Yuan watched the scene with a trace of hesitation, silent contemplation flickering in his eyes as he called out respectfully. He opened his mouth, but could not find words to say, as if unsure how to proceed.

“The power of the Yellow Springs is chaotic and turbulent, making obsessions hard to sever.”

“Thus, the River of Forgetfulness follows, and with Lady Meng’s aid, the Soup of Oblivion is administered, so that reincarnation may be complete.”

The Lord of the Underworld, perceiving Mo Yuan’s hesitation, slowly shook his head. His voice was gentle as he continued:

“As for all living beings—even the most gifted—without obsessions to accompany them, the path of cultivation is difficult and short-lived.”

“But if one’s obsession is worthy, I do not mind showing her a path to the heavens.”

“Just as I did for you, long ago…”

His words were slow, suffused with endless reminiscence. With this murmur, he took a step forward, his figure gradually fading from view.

Only a lingering voice remained, echoing forth:

“The fallen soldiers of the Han Yue Kingdom are to be brought to the River of Forgetfulness to restore their souls and be taught the path of soul cultivation.”

“For every year within the river, only a day passes outside. I grant you three days’ time.”

“Moreover, the millions of souls within the Blood Bead are to be returned to Han Yue Kingdom… The power of the River of Forgetfulness now blankets Tianyuan; souls and mortals may coexist in one realm, unimpeded…”

“As for the former sovereign, his cultivation is to be abolished, and he is to be cast down as a commoner…”

“In three days, I wish to see an army of tigers and wolves at your command.”

Gazing in the direction of the Lord of the Underworld’s departure, Mo Yuan slowly shook his head, dropped to one knee, placed his right fist to his chest, and bowed with the utmost reverence:

“I shall obey the divine command…”

…

Having finished instructing Mo Yuan, the Lord of the Underworld strode through the void toward the domain of the Three Hundred and Sixty-Eight Kingdoms of the Northern Realm.

The North required chaos.

Not long ago, the sovereigns who besieged the Valley of Immortality must pay for their sins with death.

Perhaps, this chaos had already begun…

And his arrival was but the spark…

Before long, the void trembled. Above the Kingdom of Azure Sky, a figure clad in black and gold-embroidered robes appeared, striding forth.

Beneath his feet lay a magnificent cluster of ice palaces.

Within the palace, several thousand people stood in silent formation, a heavy and oppressive atmosphere hanging over all.

“The three thousand six hundred seventy-two subjects of Azure Sky Kingdom pay homage to the Sovereign!”

Sensing the arrival of the Lord of the Underworld, thousands knelt in unison and spoke in reverent unison.

“Mo Changsheng, Grand Elder of Azure Sky Kingdom, presents the severed head of the former sovereign in exchange for the Sovereign’s mercy, to grant our people a chance at survival.”

Immediately after, the leading figure—an elder in green Daoist robes, whose bearing was both immortal and sorrowful—knelt despondently, holding a wooden box aloft. His aged voice echoed through the hall.

A sweep of divine sense revealed that the box indeed contained the head of the former king.

“This crime may be atoned for.”

The Lord of the Underworld’s face was cold and indifferent. He nodded, spoke these words, and with a light step vanished from sight.

Only after his departure did the elder leader exhale deeply and shed his mournful expression.

“Take away the corpses of those who died defending the late lord from the palace and see to their proper disposal.”

“Purge the officials’ families from the kingdom.”

“The new emperor must ascend without mishap.”

Gazing in the direction the Lord of the Underworld had left, a profound look flickered in Mo Changsheng’s eyes. He gave a brief command to two warriors behind him and departed.

“Yes, sir.”

The two warriors dared not delay; they bowed in unison and withdrew to carry out their orders.

The same scene played out across many lands.

Except for a handful of sovereigns who still harbored resentment and dared to resist—only to be mercilessly crushed—all others had either been executed by their own ministers, offered up their severed heads, or had their thrones usurped by traitors, their descendants claiming power through murder and deceit.

The Lord of the Underworld, however, paid these affairs no mind.

Unity leads to division, and division to unity.

Such is the way of the world.

The struggle for royal power in the cold northern realms was always brutal.

On the other hand, three days from now, Qingli—having endured three years within the Yellow Springs—would, barring any mishap, assume the mantle of Shura Lord of the Underworld.

Those tens of thousands of ghostly soldiers would be hers to command.

In such chaotic times, the north was the perfect ground for tempering an army.

And in the mortal world, only those beings who truly worshipped the Underworld were worthy of protection…