Chapter 82: Despair and Helplessness

“Honey, this thing is really fun. Can I have it?” Wang Ying held the bloodstone figurine of the Roaring Skyhound, unable to put it down.

“Giving it to you isn’t a problem, but I’m worried that if it comes back to life at full strength, it could be dangerous.” I knew just how formidable this Roaring Skyhound could be—if it weren’t for the power of my Thunder Palm, both that foul Daoist and I would’ve been done for.

“It’s alright. It’s just a little toy. Besides, I’ll be leaving in a day. With my soul, I can control it.” Wang Ying stroked the bloodstone Roaring Skyhound, and I could tell she liked it very much. If she liked it, I’d give it to her; after all, I was always by her side.

The next morning, before I’d even gotten out of bed, Wei Qi came calling for me.

“Uncle Qi, what’s going on? Didn’t we agree that since Wang Ying is leaving soon, you’d let me be?” I said with a wry smile when I saw him.

“Da Chuan, this is really important!” Wei Qi’s face was drawn and troubled.

“Go on, tell me.”

“Master Xingyun just sent a message. He wants us to come to Dinglin Temple. Said there’s something important to discuss.”

I thought for a moment and decided to make time to go to Dinglin Temple. Master Xingyun was a mystery—why had he given me the Thunder Palm? Was it really just because I was a once-in-a-millennium talent? And why, before he sent me to capture Shaoxiang, did he say he was dead? Yet, when we returned, he was alive again. That day, the novice monk said he’d gone on a pilgrimage, but now he was back?

I needed to see him. I needed to find the descendants of the Zhuge Jin family. I needed to find the recipe for Blood Linglong, so Wang Ying could stay by my side forever.

After briefly explaining things to Wang Ying, I left with Wei Qi in his little Prince car and headed to Dinglin Temple at Fulaishan. When we entered Master Xingyun’s meditation chamber, we found that many people had already arrived—walkers between worlds, spirit guides, yin-yang masters, even Wei Qi’s master, Duan Sandao, and the renowned master of the underworld, Li Danian. The rest were all highly respected figures. Only Wei Qi and I were the youngest.

After we entered, a novice monk brought over two meditation cushions for us, and we sat down. A high-level meeting of the underworld’s practitioners began.

The meeting was chaired by Master Xingyun, and his words shocked me. He said that the Underworld, in order to control humanity, had begun training vast numbers of ghost soldiers in another dimension. Once they reached sufficient numbers, they would attack and enslave humans, turning mankind into their prey. He also said that the Underworld had already sent assassins to kill those who walk between worlds, aiming to eliminate them within a year to prevent anyone from thwarting their plans. Only those who walk between worlds could stop them.

After he finished, Master Xingyun pointed to Wei Qi and me. “These two young men, under my instructions, went to the Underworld and even faced the King of Hell. Fortunately, they returned alive. This shows the Underworld is not as terrifying as people imagine.”

His words made me suspicious. I remembered he’d sent us to catch Shaoxiang, saying Shaoxiang had killed three people, and he never once mentioned the King of the Underworld. Our so-called journey to the Underworld had been an accident.

But with so many seniors gathered, I couldn’t say anything to contradict him.

After Master Xingyun finished, everyone began discussing how to defend ourselves against the Underworld. My thoughts kept drifting to Wang Ying, and I was eager for things to end so I could go home. But the result of the discussion was that Wei Qi and I were to lead everyone into the Underworld immediately, capture the King of Hell, defeat his ghost soldiers, and restore peace to the world.

I wasn’t exactly willing, but this was justice—I couldn’t refuse. So, without delay, Wei Qi and I set off with the other veterans of the underworld’s practitioners. Before leaving, I approached Master Xingyun and told him about my desire to find the descendants of Zhuge Jin. He smiled and said that Blood Linglong and the Zhuge Jin lineage were real, and all the information was in the brocade pouch he had once given me. Unfortunately, I had lost that pouch in the Underworld.

This only strengthened my resolve to return to the Underworld once more.

We found the tomb entrance halfway up the mountain. A group of more than a dozen of us, all except Master Xingyun, went down into the ancient tomb through the tunnel. Regrettably, after searching for hours, we still couldn’t find the portal to the Underworld City. By the time we climbed out of the tomb, it was already noon.

Everyone returned to Dinglin Temple to continue strategizing against the ghost soldiers of the Underworld, but I took a cab straight back to Wei Family Vegetable Garden Village.

“Honey, I’m home!” I called out as soon as I stepped through the door, but to my surprise, there was no reply from Wang Ying. Could she have gone out?

I walked into the room—and was stunned. Wang Ying lay silently on the bed, motionless, as if she were asleep. I rushed over and touched her, but my heart trembled—her body was already cold.

“Honey, you said there was still half a day left… Why did you leave so suddenly? Why didn’t you wait for me?” Looking at Wang Ying lying there so quietly, a wave of sorrow swept over me. It seemed I still couldn’t escape reality.

“Honey, come back. Even if you’re a ghost, I’ll still love you.” At this point, I had no choice but to accept the reality of Wang Ying’s union of spirit and body. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad—at least she was still by my side.

I called out several times, but Wang Ying’s soul did not answer. A sense of fear crept in. What was going on? It shouldn’t be possible! In theory, the moment she left, her soul and body should have separated. With the strong yang energy outside, where could she have gone? Possessing her body was the safest choice.

I called out around the room for a long time, but Wang Ying still didn’t respond. In a hurry, I pulled the soul urn from my pocket and broke the seal. “Wan’er, can you help me?”

“Boss, I heard everything. Don’t worry, I’ll go out with Qingtin and the others to help find her. We’re ghosts—we’ll be able to see her.” As Shangguan Wan’er spoke, her body floated away. In this weather, with the heavy yang energy, it was really hard for them to help.

After a while, Shangguan Wan’er and the other two little ghosts returned, panting, bringing back news I could hardly bear: Wang Ying’s spirit was nowhere to be found nearby.

This news crushed me. Where had Wang Ying’s soul gone? Was she lost? Or had she vanished completely? Either possibility was unacceptable.

How could this happen? I’d only stepped out for a while, and when I returned, she was gone, leaving only a cold corpse and no soul behind. Had she left alone to spare me further trouble? Impossible. We’d already agreed: I would love her even beyond life and death, and she couldn’t bear to leave me either.

I called Wei Qi, who drove back quickly, his face slick with sweat. After hearing what had happened, he told me not to worry—maybe Wang Ying’s soul had gone wandering and lost her way, and that we could try calling her spirit at night.

I knew about spirit-calling. Last time, she’d been left at the village entrance and was almost detained by the village chief’s nasty ghost, but luckily we’d rescued her. Now, with Wei Qi’s reassurance, I felt a sliver of hope. Whatever the outcome, as long as she could come back, it would be enough. My greatest fear was that she’d vanished without a trace.

At last, night fell. I threaded a needle through the clothes Wang Ying had worn, prepared yellow talismans and incense, and went out to call her spirit, circling the village several times, scouring the little path again and again, but still found nothing.

My spirits sank to their lowest. I’d imagined a thousand possible outcomes, but never this one. How could things end like this? Seeing Wang Ying’s body lying on the bed, my heart shattered.

Shangguan Wan’er, Xuan Li, and Qingtin, the three little ghosts, flew out again and again to search, but each time returned with nothing.

By ten o’clock that night, I was on the brink of despair.

I despaired. Wei Qi despaired. Shangguan Wan’er, Xuan Li, and Qingtin despaired alongside me. They all stayed with me in the small room, watching Wang Ying’s already icy body.

“Uncle Qi, go home and get some rest. It’s late,” I said softly, nudging Wei Qi. He stood up, wanting to say something, but in the end kept silent.

Wei Qi left. Shangguan Wan’er and the others insisted on staying with me, but I told them to return to the soul urn—I wanted to be alone. As Wan’er approached the urn, her lips moved as if to speak, but she, too, said nothing.

All was silent. Overhead, a dim yellow lamp glowed; on the bed lay Wang Ying’s almost frozen body; on the sofa sat me, nearly broken by despair. It was a scene of utter misery.

In all my years, I had never felt such hopelessness and helplessness—not even when I left home alone for the first time.

Wang Ying, where have you gone? Have you heard me calling you? Staring up at the hazy light, I cried out to her in my heart!