Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Curse of Yin and Yang

Thinking about it, it seemed impossible. My second uncle was a walker between worlds; though not revered, he had a good reputation in the trade. How could he appear in the City of the Dead? Anyone who could mingle with Old Rascal Zhao was unlikely to be decent—neither human nor ghost among them would be good.

The two of them walked toward us, whispering furtively. Especially Old Rascal Zhao, bowing and scraping like a eunuch before the emperor. I’d never seen him act this way before; it seemed the Underworld King was his superior.

As they drew near, I saw clearly: this man wasn’t my second uncle. He bore some resemblance, but it was not him.

“Wu Ji, are these the two you spoke of?” The Underworld King scrutinized me, sneering coldly as he spoke.

“Yes, yes, it’s them. They’ve just crossed over from the world of the living—their skins haven’t shed yet! Look, they’re still breathing, still warm.” Old Rascal Zhao bowed his head, standing half a man shorter than the Underworld King.

“When have you ever seen me eat people? I want the world, but not to devour its people—I want to enslave them. Remember this: train the ghost soldiers, but do not harm the living. Let them go.” His face grew colder as he finished, turning to walk away.

“Underworld King, Underworld King! Brother, since coming to the City of the Dead, I haven’t tasted a fresh human heart in ages. Why not grant me one… I’ll train more and stronger ghost soldiers for you, I swear!” Seeing the Underworld King about to leave, Old Rascal Zhao hurried after him, grinning and pleading.

The Underworld King stopped, slowly raising his head. “Wu Ji, are you threatening me?”

Old Rascal Zhao’s face twisted into bitter misery. “Underworld King, I wouldn’t dare! I just wanted a human heart, that’s all—it’s been so long. Fine, I won’t eat it; I’ll send them away right now. Please, have a safe journey.”

His helpless expression made it clear: the Underworld King was indeed his superior.

I began to understand—the beast was training ghost soldiers not for himself, but for this Underworld King. Who was he? Human or ghost? Why did he need such an army? Everything was a mystery.

The Underworld King drifted away, vanishing into the foggy night. His pace was slow, almost languid, but he disappeared suddenly in the mist—a sign he was no ordinary man.

Once the Underworld King was out of sight, Old Rascal Zhao became furious, slamming his belongings to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. “Damn it, being Underworld King makes you so special? Wait till I finish training the ghost army—then I’ll overthrow you!”

“Boss, what about these two living people?” A ghost soldier came over, whispering to Old Rascal Zhao.

“What else? Let them go, make them leave immediately. Didn’t you hear the Underworld King’s orders?” Old Rascal Zhao was livid, clearly powerless against his superior.

The ghost soldier whispered something into Old Rascal Zhao’s ear, and the two burst out in sly laughter. Their devious smiles suggested another scheme was brewing. Sure enough, Old Rascal Zhao no longer mentioned releasing us, and instead escorted us to a grand hall.

“Hmph, I don’t believe the Underworld King can follow me here. I’ll handle this myself—no need for him! Tear out their hearts for me; I only want the hearts. The rest, divide among yourselves.” Old Rascal Zhao addressed the ghost soldier beside him.

“Old Rascal Zhao, you’re not playing by the rules! Why give up being a decent man to become a ghost here—what’s the point? Let us go, and we’ll return to the world of the living together,” Wei Qi, bound with his arms behind him, shouted.

Old Rascal Zhao sneered. “You think I don’t want to? But I can’t. I’ve been cursed by the Underworld King’s Life-and-Death Spell; for the rest of my existence, I must obey him and train ghost soldiers. Otherwise, I won’t even remain a ghost, ha ha ha…” His laughter was tinged with desolation.

Life-and-Death Spell. I’d heard of it from my mother, who said it was a curse from the underworld—not chanted, but enacted, like water. Once consumed, it was as hard to remove as a deadly poison. No wonder Old Rascal Zhao had changed; with his yin-yang eyes, he could have thrived in the shadow world.

“There are plenty of capable people among the living, Old Rascal Zhao. Let us go, we’ll help you find an antidote.” Wei Qi was undaunted, even at this crossroads, showing no panic.

“No way! Stop dreaming. Tonight, you two are my feast. Start digging out their hearts; don’t let them whine.” Old Rascal Zhao flicked his hand, full of disdain and arrogance—a complete reversal from how he acted before the Underworld King.

The ghost soldier approached, brandishing a sharp knife.

“Old Rascal Zhao, why defy the Underworld King? He told you to let us go!” The tip of the knife pressed against Wei Qi’s belly, and I couldn’t help but cry out.

“The Underworld King is nothing! Here, I make the rules. I’ll dig out your heart myself.” Enraged by my words, Old Rascal Zhao snatched the knife from the ghost soldier, pushed Wei Qi aside, and strode toward me.

“Seventh Uncle, didn’t you say I had no calamities lately? Didn’t you say the blessed are protected?” Seeing Old Rascal Zhao’s murderous intent, I panicked.

“Old Rascal Zhao, he’s just a child—if you have guts, take me instead!” Wei Qi yelled.

“You’re fat and ugly; your heart surely tastes bad. I’ll start with him.” Old Rascal Zhao sneered, tearing open my clothes in a flash. He raised the sharp blade, aiming straight for my chest.

I had hoped for a miracle, but none came. I closed my eyes, resigned to death. In that instant, I felt a strange calm—Wang Ying, perhaps we’ll meet in the underworld.

Crack!

As I waited for death with closed eyes, a sudden snap echoed. I opened my eyes to see Old Rascal Zhao collapsed on the ground, his arm with the knife severed. Gray blood soaked the floor. He bled, unlike the others—a sign he was still human.

A miracle had occurred after all. The Underworld King stood before us, though I had no idea when he’d arrived.

“Underworld King, why… why do this to me?” Old Rascal Zhao lay on the ground, terrified, sweat streaming down his face.

“The one thing I hate most in life is disobedience. What did I tell you? I said let them go—didn’t you hear? Seems you don’t need those ears anymore.” With a flick of his finger, a cold flash sliced off Old Rascal Zhao’s ear, which fell neatly to the ground.

A chill swept over me. This Underworld King was ruthless—such cruelty toward his own subordinate. Old Rascal Zhao was despicable, even vicious, but he was still the Underworld King’s man. To punish him so harshly revealed the King’s viciousness. Yet I couldn’t understand why such a cruel figure would let us go.

Old Rascal Zhao rolled over and struggled to his feet. With his remaining hand, he clawed at the ground like the roots of an ancient tree, grabbing a handful of earth and lunging at the Underworld King.

His momentum was fierce; wherever his hand touched, the soil swirled like a whirlwind toward the Underworld King. I watched, heart pounding—Old Rascal Zhao had it coming. With such power, why serve the Underworld King? Even cursed, he shouldn’t have fallen so low.

The Underworld King stood motionless, lips curled in a cold smile. As Old Rascal Zhao, dust and earth swirling around him, attacked, the King’s hand flickered, sending a bright beam straight at him.

Boom!

A dull explosion.

Everything vanished instantly. Old Rascal Zhao was blown to pieces, his flesh and blood raining down.

I was stunned.

Not by the combat, but by the Underworld King’s ruthless efficiency—even Old Rascal Zhao’s crimes did not warrant such an end. Now, nothing remained.

“Release them now.” The Underworld King’s cold gaze swept over Wei Qi and me, lingering briefly on my face, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

The ghost soldier beside us trembled as he untied our ropes. Wei Qi flexed his wrists and looked at me, his eyes speaking volumes. I understood his meaning.

He glanced at my hand, the one with the Thunder Palm charm, and nodded faintly. In that moment, I realized Wei Qi wanted me to attack the Underworld King.

Strictly speaking, tonight the Underworld King had helped us; though he was harsh, he never intended us harm. But Old Rascal Zhao was human—such punishment was excessive. Moreover, the training of ghost soldiers surely had some sinister purpose, and we needed to stop it. If I attacked the Underworld King now, while he was unprepared, perhaps there was a chance.