Xiangguo Temple (5)

As he spoke, he walked forward. With every step, the fellow disciples beside him, including his master, became transparent one by one, dissipating like smoke and clouds. It wasn't just the people; even the nearby houses and buildings seemed to be burning, turning into black smoke and scattering in all directions. Finally, everything vanished into nothingness. The sky was a chaotic, blood-like crimson, and the air was filled with the heavy stench of sulfur. This was a scent Tan Yangzi was familiar with—the scent belonging to Hell.

Tan Yu stood in place, his originally handsome face gradually twisting. Countless blisters rose under his skin as if he were being deep-fried in oil. Suddenly, the human body was burst open by some black substance, and branch-like limbs extended out in all directions, writhing in front of him like a giant centipede. From amidst those densely packed limbs and legs, countless eyes trembled as they stared at him. He heard a voice speak in his mind, "Admit it, you really enjoyed the feeling of killing Tan Zhen, which is why you didn't hesitate to strike from the very beginning. You hate him for taking away everything that belonged to you, taking away Master's love for you, taking away Tan Yu's kindness towards you. You hate him, wishing you could kill him with your own hands. You are no different from this monk named Guan Yi! You are no different from us either!"

As Tan Yangzi listened, the corners of his lips curled up slightly into a cold smile. At this very moment, his fifteen-year-old body rapidly grew taller. His shoulders broadened, his chest became sturdy and thick, his waist became lean and powerful, and resolute, deep angles were carved into his facial features. His black hair also turned snow-white, and his wide-sleeved green robes fluttered endlessly within the chilling aura permeating his surroundings. He said coldly, "Jealousy is the most normal of emotions, and it is also the poison that most easily corrodes the human heart, but it is not impossible to overcome." He gripped the sword hilt with both hands, stomped forcefully on the ground, and leaped into the air like an azure rainbow. "When you possess thousands of years of memories and have witnessed the partings and deaths of countless people, you will realize just how ridiculous this little bit of jealousy truly is."

As his voice fell, the sword's edge cleaved through the countless thorn-like arms lunging at him, stabbing straight into the main body covered with eyes. The Thorn-Heart Ghost let out a twisted and mournful howl. Suddenly, the illusion dissipated. Tan Yangzi opened his eyes and found himself still standing outside Guan Yi's meditation room. Beside him, Yan Fei had also opened his eyes. And at this moment, it was exactly the time when Yin and Yang alternated, causing all ghosts and monsters to reveal their true forms. In front of them, there was no ancient scholar tree at all; instead, there were several towering Thorn-Heart Ghosts whose bodies were covered in densely packed arms. The largest among them was still howling, seemingly heavily injured.

At the root of the largest Thorn-Heart Ghost, a human figure was melded together with the monster's black body. Upon closer inspection, one would realize that it was Master Guan Yi. However, his eyes were currently blank and his mouth hung slightly open; it was unknown whether he was dead or alive.

The other two slightly smaller Thorn-Heart Ghosts roared in anger. Their roars sounded shrill and twisted, like wild beasts, yet somewhat resembling the screams of children. Their densely packed arms, like dead branches, swept over in an overwhelming assault. More than half of them were actually aimed at Yan Fei. Tan Yangzi pulled Yan Fei behind him with a swift motion. A swing of his bronze longsword chopped off over a dozen monstrous hands. However, an overwhelming barrage of hand shadows attacked him from behind once again. He protected Yan Fei in his embrace once more, his longsword moving gracefully like shooting stars and flowing water. Pale yellow pus and blood emitting a putrid stench splattered everywhere, but he skillfully dodged it all. He even used his wide sleeves to block a drop or two for Yan Fei, protecting the red-clothed youth flawlessly.

Yan Fei, on the other hand, showed no sign of fear, allowing his master to push and pull him around. The two of them almost looked as if they were performing a graceful dance. He gazed at Tan Yangzi's sharply defined profile, looking into his cold eyes brimming with a murderous aura, and watched his breathtakingly elegant swordplay and his white hair swirling like white silk. Unknowingly, he became somewhat entranced by the sight.

'Master is so handsome even when hacking people...'

"Yan Fei! Why are you spacing out!" Tan Yangzi's sharp shout pulled him back to reality from the abyss of his infatuation. Right, he still had to help catch these three giant caterpillars in front of them.

"Now!" Tan Yangzi spun into the air, chanting a spell. Azure light erupted from the blade of his sword, and runic talismans faintly flashed behind him. Carrying a thunderous momentum, his sword thrust straight towards the largest Thorn-Heart Ghost. All the tentacles of the Thorn-Heart Ghosts on both sides rushed to swarm him, causing the impenetrable barrier that was originally protecting Guan Yi to dissipate.

Taking this opportunity, Yan Fei took a large stride forward. The oiled paper umbrella in his hand snapped open with a whoosh, revealing the gorgeously desolate, curled Manjusaka painted on it. The Soul-Guiding Bell tied to the umbrella handle let out bursts of phantom-like, distant chimes. He approached Master Guan Yi, who had almost entirely melded into the monstrous bug's black body, and covered the two of them with the umbrella's canopy, which was twice the size of an ordinary oiled paper umbrella. With his other hand, he untied the Soul-Crossing Bell from the handle and rhythmically shook it beside Guan Yi's ear, while muttering an incantation under his breath. When he opened his eyes again, his originally black pupils were filled with a blood-red hue, and the same red color surfaced in Guan Yi's eyes.

In mid-air, azure flames ignited all over Tan Yangzi's body. His sword strike was named Funeral of Impermanence, a highly ruthless move. If it successfully pierced the ghost's vital point, it could even instantly slay it. However, Tan Yangzi did not intend to kill these three Thorn-Heart Ghosts. After all, their destined lifespans in Hell had not yet ended. Even if they died, they would simply reincarnate into the Hell Realm again to continue suffering their punishment, and he himself would likely be disciplined by his superiors. A professional Green Impermanence always struck with measured restraint, and as a senior Green Impermanence who had walked alone for three hundred years without a Red Impermanence partner, it was even more impossible for him to make such an amateur mistake.

The Hellfire on his body and sword roared fiercely. Wherever it passed, the thorns attempting to intercept him turned to carbon ash and scattered in all directions. The azure light reflected against his cold, stern face, making him look as gloomy and phantom-like as an Asura. The sword's edge hacked through the thicket of thorns and pierced straight into the huge, tough body of the Thorn-Heart Ghost. A terrifying roar shook the entirety of Bianliang.

However, the ghost's mournful wail could only be heard by a select few humans born with highly sensitive hearing. To ordinary people, they merely felt that tonight's wind was blowing exceptionally fiercely, faintly resembling the wailing of ghosts and howling of wolves.

However, the moment the sword's edge pierced into the Thorn-Heart Ghost's body, Tan Yangzi sensed that something was wrong. But before he could react, an extremely cold aura crept up along the Karma-Severing Sword. A burst of intense pain flared in his hand, a pain akin to being sliced open by a knife. Tan Yangzi cried out in pain and tried to let go, but was shocked to discover that his hand was firmly glued to the bronze sword by the freezing aura. Several cyan-blue threads crept up his fingers and slowly climbed up his arm.

The spot where the Thorn-Heart Ghost had been stabbed ignited with a blinding indigo light, faintly condensing into the shape of an azure lotus.

Utpala Flower!

Tan Yangzi's heart skipped a beat. No wonder the illusion the Thorn-Heart Ghost created earlier was so powerful, and how it had grown so large in such a short period of time. As it turned out, it possessed a magical artifact that could only be found in Lihen Heaven. But how could one of the Seven Treasures, which belonged exclusively to the Heavenly Realm, fall into the hands of a ghost from the Hell Realm? And how was it even possible for a ghost to use it?

However, the situation was looking quite grim right now. Ghosts feared the magical artifacts of immortals above all else. Even though he was an Underworld Emissary, which made him somewhat different from ordinary ghosts, he was completely helpless against a magical artifact like the Utpala Flower, considered a rare sacred relic even within Lihen Heaven. A long-lost sense of panic gripped his heart, and unbearable memories from the distant past resurfaced in his mind once again.

Within a blinding flash of holy light, that red-clothed figure had instantly turned into scattered ash and dust...

He forcefully pried at his own fingers, having no time to care about the agonizing pain of tearing skin and flesh. However, the surrounding thorns had completely enveloped him by now. Several agile arms had already wrapped around his waist like lithe snakes, while others coiled tightly around his legs. Even his left wrist was heavily bound and pulled to the side. He was suspended in the air, immobilized by the thorny arms. His right hand remained glued to the sword's hilt, and those cyan-blue patterns had rapidly spread to his shoulder and were now climbing up his neck. His entire right arm had completely lost all sensation.

He heard the Thorn-Heart Ghost's voice sneer in his mind, "You're just a fierce ghost from Hell like me, so what are you showing off for! Hmph! You running dogs of the Heavenly Court are actually afraid of the Heavenly Court's own items. What a joke!"

Enduring the pain, Tan Yangzi asked coldly, "Where did you get the Utpala Flower?" And why was this ghost completely immune to a magical artifact from the Heavenly Court?

"Hahahaha, where I got it from isn't important. You're about to die soon anyway. You Green Impermanences forged your Eighth Consciousness into Karma-Severing Swords to please those immortals in exchange for an endless lifespan. But after death, you have no way to reincarnate; you will only end up scattering into ash and dissipating like smoke. How about it? Are you scared now?"

The arms wrapped around his waist constricted tighter and tighter, making it difficult to breathe. Tan Yangzi tried his hardest to maintain a calm expression. Right now, Yan Fei was inside Guan Yi's dream trying to persuade him to wake up, and this Thorn-Heart Ghost didn't seem to have noticed yet. He needed to buy more time for Yan Fei. Thus, he spoke in a steady, composed voice, "Even if I die, other Green and Red Impermanences will come to catch you. If you kill me, the next time they see you, they will have the authority to slay you on the spot. Just to indulge in a few days of pleasure in the human world, you are racking up even more sinful karma. After death, you will only reincarnate back into the Hell Realm. Is it worth it?"

"You were once a ghost in Hell too, and you've seen the stark difference between the human world and Hell. Don't you know whether it's worth it?" The monster sneered hoarsely, its laughter tinged with madness and desolation. "I have been alive for five hundred years! I lived in that kind of place for five hundred years! Why?! What gives those immortals and humans the right to live in such a wonderful world, while we are forced to stay in a place where even drinking water burns our throats to rot!"

Tan Yangzi actually understood its feelings. He understood the feelings of all those fierce ghosts who resorted to any means necessary to escape Hell, even at the cost of creating more evil karma and prolonging their suffering in Hell. A long, long time ago, he too had sold his own Eighth Consciousness just for the chance to leave that place and find a brief moment of respite in the human world. This might sound foolish, but anyone who has never been to Hell could never fathom just how terrifying it is inside.

Many mythological stories always claimed that if you failed to do good deeds while alive, imps would throw you into a boiling oil cauldron, push you up a mountain of blades, rip your tongue out alive, or tie you to a red-hot iron pillar to be roasted after you descended into Hell. But in reality, there weren't that many imps dedicated solely to torturing you in Hell. The living beings there, just like humans, were born after entering reincarnation. It was just that humans were born from wombs, while ghosts in the Hell Realm were hatched from eggs. The only difference was that the parents who birthed them did not raise them. They would typically just lay their eggs in a place called the Blood Pool and leave them to hatch on their own.

Hell was incredibly vast and heavily populated by ghosts, but its resources were extremely scarce. Their water was like sulfuric acid, burning through throats and stomachs. Their land was barren; it could only sprout thorns as sharp as knives, never yielding any edible crops. Even grass was considered an exceptionally rare treasure that could be sold for a hefty price. The only edible things were maggots and filth dug from the soil, or the corpses resulting from ghosts mutually slaughtering and devouring each other. The climate was either so scorching hot that bodies would carbonize and burn, or so freezing cold that fingers would snap off. Not a single minute or second there was ever comfortable.

In such a brutal environment, the only relationship between ghosts was eating and being eaten. Even if there were ghost nations, it was simply a system where powerful ghosts offered asylum to weaker ones, and in return, the weaker ghosts had to hunt ghosts from other nations for the powerful ghosts to feast upon. Some Ghost Valley Kingdoms even had specific holidays. During these festivals, anyone who was frail, physically disabled, elderly, or young could be hunted indiscriminately and cooked into grand feasts for the ghosts across various towns to share; this was known as the Taotie Festival. Luxurious concepts like familial love, friendship, or romance did not exist here. A friend who called you brother one second might bite your throat out the next. Crimes like robbery, theft, fraud, and rape were commonplace. Every single day was spent living in hunger, slaughter, agony, and terror. There was no one you could trust. In this bleak, sunless existence, one could only walk entirely alone; it was impossible to find a companion.

Worst of all, the beings within the Hell Realm possessed extremely long lifespans. Many ghosts bearing the heaviest sins lived almost as long as immortals. Every minute and every second of their drawn-out lives was sheer torment. They racked up more evil karma just to survive, but what was the point of surviving? Just to experience more pain? However, suicide was not an option either, because suicide itself was a sin—the sin of attempting to escape punishment. Dying simply meant taking a trip down the Yellow Springs Road, only to ultimately be sent back to the Hell Realm, burdened with an even longer lifespan than before.

It was a terrifying place from which there was no escape. Once you entered, there was no end in sight.

At the time, his sentence in Hell had been less than five hundred years, but after merely a hundred years, he could not bear it any longer. He traded his eternal Eighth Consciousness for the right to travel between Hell and the human world. But at the same time, he knew that from then on, he would never be able to truly leave Hell again.

Drinking poison to quench one's thirst was simply the only choice left in the face of absolute despair.