Chapter Seventy: Incredible

Yet there was still some hesitation in my heart. No matter how you looked at it, the King of the Underworld had shown mercy to us both. Not only had he stopped Old Zhao’s lecherous behavior, he was even willing to let us go. Was it right for us to do this? Moreover, I wasn’t at all confident in my Thunder Palm.

“You two may leave. What you have seen is nothing but illusion. I hope that when you return to the mortal world, you will not speak of it.” The King of the Underworld gazed past us, barely sparing us a glance. But that gave me a chance.

“Da Chuan, now’s the time. The day his army of spectral soldiers is fully formed will be humanity’s last.” As I turned to look at Wei Qi, he forced these words through clenched teeth.

He was right! The King of the Underworld had no intention of harming us now, but he had said it himself—once he had trained his spectral soldiers, he would enslave mankind. We had already witnessed his ruthlessness; what would happen if he gained control over humanity? The opportunity was right in front of us—if we lost it now, the consequences would surely be dire.

My resolve hardened—I gritted my teeth. My right hand clenched tightly, strength surging through my legs. The energy shot from my heart straight to my palm. I spun around, and, from just five or six meters away, unleashed a blow toward the King of the Underworld.

Bang!

The power of the Thunder Palm swept up dust and smoke from the ground, rushing straight for him. The distance was so short that even if he reacted, it would be too late.

With that resounding crash, the King of the Underworld floated like a kite with its string snapped, landing with a thud more than ten meters away. Wei Qi’s body trembled; he snatched the Cloud Staff from the hands of a spectral soldier and charged at the King of the Underworld, swinging it wildly. Yet before he could even get close, he was sent flying back—slammed hard to the ground.

Damn it, my Thunder Palm had failed to cripple the King of the Underworld. Things were about to get messy. I hastily gathered my strength and struck again at him as he climbed up from the ground.

Boom!

The force of my palm turned into a beam of light, colliding with a ray sent by the King of the Underworld, generating a powerful shock wave. As it spread, Wei Qi and I were blown away like leaves in a mighty wind. In that chaotic moment, I glimpsed the King of the Underworld—standing firm, unmoved, his hair whipped about by the force of the energy. His gaze remained cold, yet there was a hint of sorrow within it.

The instant we were swept along by the shock wave, I suddenly lost consciousness, and knew nothing more.

I had no idea how much time had passed before I finally came to.

Beneath me was damp earth, fresh and fragrant. I was surrounded by flowers, grass, and trees. I moved my body—thank goodness, aside from exhaustion, nothing was amiss; I had all my limbs. I remembered Wei Qi and hurried to my feet. There he was, not far from me, snoring loudly in his sleep.

Hearing his thunderous snores, I finally relaxed. Pinching his nose, I woke him up. He opened his eyes and blurted, “Da Chuan, is this the underworld?”

“It doesn’t seem like it. It’s not the City of the Dead, anyway. Look at these flowers—they have color.” I glanced around. It was a summer morning, birds singing, flowers blooming, orange sunlight filtering through the trees, even the air was fragrant.

Wei Qi got up, smacking his lips. “Nephew, what’s going on? Was it all just a dream?”

I shook my head. This was no dream. This was reality. The two of us had returned from the City of the Dead—we had escaped that gray world. We were back.

“Da Chuan, was I wrong?” Wei Qi pursed his lips, plucked a foxtail grass, and stuck it in his mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have urged you to attack the King of the Underworld. He didn’t really seem malicious to us.” There was a trace of guilt on Wei Qi’s face.

It was true—the King of the Underworld was fierce, but he hadn’t tried to wipe us out. If he had wanted our lives, we wouldn’t be lying here on the ridge of Mount Fulaishan.

“Uncle Qi, let’s not overthink it. We’re back, and that’s what matters. Let’s treat it as a dream. Wang Ying is still waiting for me at home, and time is short. Let’s hurry back.” There were many mysteries about the City of the Dead, but now wasn’t the moment to dwell on them. Since we were back, I only wanted to return home quickly—Wang Ying was waiting.

Wei Qi brushed the dust off his pants, looking baffled. As we walked down the mountain path, he kept talking to himself. He must have been bewildered by everything he’d experienced. As for me, my mind was occupied with Wang Ying; I had no time to process any of it.

When we reached Dinglin Temple, Wei Qi stopped and looked at the Cloud Staff in his hand. “Da Chuan, shouldn’t we go inside and talk to the little monk? Have him burn some paper for his master, say we failed the mission and didn’t bring back the Young Minister.”

Although I was eager to get home, I thought of Master Xingyun—indeed, we owed him an explanation. He had given me the Thunder Palm and his strength at the cost of three years of his life. Even though we hadn’t captured the Young Minister, we owed him news.

We entered Dinglin Temple and were stunned by the sight of the old monk coming toward us. How could this be? What was going on? Were we dreaming again?

Approaching us was Master Xingyun, clad in a red robe, smiling with a healthy glow. He certainly didn’t look like a dead man.

Wei Qi pinched his own cheek hard. He must have thought the same as I did—was it all a dream?

“Da Chuan, Wei Qi, you’ve finally returned. Tell me, how did it go?” Master Xingyun looked at us with a grin.

“Master, we failed the mission. We didn’t capture the Young Minister, and something went wrong—we entered a strange world, the Underworld, where there was the King of the Underworld and spectral soldiers,” Wei Qi replied, still pursing his lips.

“Oh? Is that so? Tell me more—what exactly did you encounter?” Master Xingyun smiled, motioning for us to sit beside him.

Wei Qi and I recounted our experiences in the City of the Dead, and Master Xingyun listened with sighs and exclamations. At last he asked, “Did you manage to subdue the King of the Underworld?”

“No, I don’t think so. We were blown away by the shock wave. I saw the King of the Underworld standing there, unmoved, and my Thunder Palm didn’t cripple him.” I answered honestly.

A hint of disappointment crossed Master Xingyun’s face. “Very well, you two must be exhausted. Go home and rest. I’ll visit you when I have time.” With that, he put his palms together and walked inside.

Wei Qi still wanted to speak to Master Xingyun, but I had no such inclination. I dragged him out of Dinglin Temple—Wang Ying was waiting for me at home.

“Da Chuan, didn’t Master Xingyun pass away? How is he alive again? We forgot to ask him,” Wei Qi said, turning to me.

I was puzzled too, but Wang Ying now occupied my whole heart, so I didn’t want to think about anything else. I had no time to ponder it.

“Da Chuan, I feel there’s something strange going on. Didn’t you notice? Master Xingyun never asked about the Young Minister—not once. It was all us talking. He seemed much more interested in the City of the Dead. Isn’t that odd?” Wei Qi shook my shoulder with one hand.

“Uncle Qi, focus on driving. Once Wang Ying leaves, I’ll analyze everything with you, alright? No, wait! We need to hurry back to find Master Xingyun, and I still need to track down the descendants of the Zhuge family! I’m so busy I’ve forgotten the most important thing.”

Wei Qi hurriedly drove back to Dinglin Temple, but Master Xingyun was nowhere to be found. Only the mute little monk remained, who told us Master Xingyun had gone traveling, leaving just ten minutes earlier, and no one knew where he’d gone. When I explained my purpose, the little monk said all my requests were answered in the silk pouch.

Speaking of the silk pouch, I realized I had lost it somewhere—most likely in the Underworld.

Dispirited, I returned home. Wang Ying was waiting at the door. When she saw me, she hugged me tightly. “You rascal, I thought you’d left me for good!”

I stroked her back. “Silly girl, we’re married—who else would I want but you?”

Wang Ying broke into laughter through her tears, kissing my cheek. “Da Chuan, I’ve made up my mind. In the few days I have left, I want to go home and see Grandpa and Grandma. Will you go with me?”

I sighed softly. “Wife, is this your decision?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll go with you.” I had made up my mind—whatever Wang Ying wished to do, I would always accompany her.