Immortal of the Nine Realms

Biluo City, in a quiet room in a teahouse.

Lin Bao raised his teacup high and said to the Old Flood Dragon. “I was ignorant in the past and offended you, Fellow Daoist. Now I use tea in place of wine and beg your forgiveness.”

With that, Lin Bao drained the cup in one gulp.

Then he poured himself another cup, offering it in turn to Yu Tingzhai, Huang Wuji, the Dangyin Mountain Lord, and Li Wuwang.

After finishing his round of toasts, Lin Bao looked at Fang Chen and sighed. “Lord, at last I’ve found my place. If you had said earlier that you would grant me the position of a Ghost God, why trouble all these fellow Daoists to journey here? I would have gladly come on my own!”

The crowd all sneered coldly. No one believed his words, because even they had been doubtful of this path before truly walking it.

Almost no one chose to become a Ghost God willingly. Only those without options and a dwindling lifespan would see this as a straw to clutch at in desperation.

“Alright, cut the crap. Since the lord has granted you a decree, you and I are colleagues now. Whatever the lord asks, you answer,” said the old flood dragon flatly. “Everyone here is your senior. From now on, ask more, watch more, speak less.”

“Of course, of course,” replied Lin Bao with a fawning smile, nodding.

His eyes were bright with enthusiasm, as if he had already sworn brotherhood with everyone in the room.

“Why didn’t your senior brother come this time?” Fang Chen asked casually.

Lin Bao’s face was still smiling, but his heart tightened. By then, he understood who the man was.

He was Monarch Yan, who vanished from the Greater Underworld for countless years. His current methods might fall far short of the legend, but his seals were unique secret arts!

Since he had been given a decree and was walking the path of a Ghost God, he was bound to Monarch Yan by unseen threads, like a heavenly oath, like a signature on an immortal contract.

Invisible shackles had formed.

“Lord, do you know my senior brother’s true identity?” Lin Bao asked cautiously.

“Heavenly Saint Sect’s Wang Chongsong,” Fang Chen revealed casually.

Lin Bao froze, then dared not conceal anything else. He said, “Truly, the lord knows all. Very few in this world know my senior brother’s true identity.” ℴ

He explained, “Long ago, my senior brother accidentally obtained the Taiyi Immortal Path, which drew the eyes of powerful figures from the Upper Three Realms. They sent people to suppress him.

“He was defeated, his cultivation was abolished, and the Taiyi Immortal Path was seized from him. If not for someone from the Enlightenment God Palace pleading for him, he would have become a wandering soul, never able to cultivate in the Nine Mortal Realms again.”

“He had learned about the Taiyi Immortal Path from an immortal soul here in the Floating Pagoda Realm. That immortal soul had once been an Immortal Monarch in the ancient Immortal Realm, the equivalent of a seventh-transformation Ancient Immortal or above.”

Fang Chen nodded lightly, without interrupting.

Lin Bao continued, “Ever since that crushing defeat, it was as if my senior brother was struck by some forbidden art. Since then, he’s never been able to enter the Underworld ever again.”

Fang Chen frowned. “He can’t enter the Underworld anymore?”

Any cultivator could enter the Underworld with a Soul Guiding Lantern and the proper crossing technique. He had never heard of anyone being barred from entry.

After all, death should naturally lead one there, unless very special circumstances intervened.

“At first, none of us believed it either, but after years of observation, it truly seemed he couldn’t.

“A junior once suggested that perhaps Senior Brother Wang’s soul was damaged, leaving it incomplete, so he could not enter...”

Lin Bao spoke in a low voice. “There are wandering souls in the world, drifting for years. Some suffer damage to their souls, unable to enter the Yellow Springs Road, never reaching the Underworld.”

Fang Chen mused, “If he cannot enter the Underworld, then where is he now? You went to seek him this time to resolve the Great Enigma Technique. Did he teach it to you?”

Lin Bao sucked in a cold breath. How does he know about that?

He felt a chill he hadn’t known since becoming a Loose Immortal.

Lin Bao replied quickly. “Yes, yes. This time in the Floating Pagoda Realm, I accidentally caught an immortal soul. He used to be an Immortal Monarch. I wanted to extract information from him, but because his mind was obscured by the Great Enigma Art, I couldn’t. That is why I sought Senior Brother Wang.

“Although Senior Brother Want cannot enter the Underworld, he made an immortal contract with me, promising that once the Great Enigma Art was broken, we will split the profits evenly.”

“As for how to break it, he did not teach me. He only told me to go to Biluo City’s City Lord and obtain from him a stalk of Soul Restoring Grass. That herb can temporarily break the Great Enigma Art.”

He paused, then gave a bitter smile. “If this succeeds, I must follow the immortal contract. If not, I will suffer the contract’s backlash, and that isn’t something a fourth-transformation immortal like me can take. Of course... if the lord refuses to uphold the contract, I can understand...”

“Since I gave you a decree, it means you are useful to me. I will not push you to your death. Where are the immortal souls you’ve gathered?” Fang Chen asked.

“Here.”

Lin Bao immediately drew from his sleeve a miniature structure. Inside, everyone could see countless immortal souls with blank gazes, as though they had already been interrogated many times.

Fang Chen waved his hand. “Go seek Biluo City’s City Lord for the Soul Restoring Grass.”

“Yes.”

Lin Bao nodded and rose to leave.

“Lord, we’ll wait outside,” said Yu Tingzhai, standing up.

He then walked out.

Li Wuwang and the others could tell that the true target of their mission was those immortal souls.

Sensibly, they all left the room.

The next instant, Fang Chen’s figure turned into a wisp of blue smoke and entered the miniature structure.

“Another one has come.”

Nearby immortal souls all turned their gazes on Fang Chen. One mocked, “How were you captured, Fellow Daoist?”

Before Fang Chen could answer, one of them gasped. “He’s not an immortal soul.”

Not an immortal soul?

Shock spread through the crowd of souls. Their eyes grew wary, and they kept a safe distance from Fang Chen, speaking no more.

Fang Chen had no time to bother with them. In a corner, he found Pitu.

The figure looked nearly identical to the corpse he had once seen in a coffin.

Fang Chen let out a breath of relief, stepped before him, and bowed.

“Senior Brother.”

Pitu wore a plain gray robe, white-soled cloth shoes, trousers to the knee. He looked like a farmer eking out a living in the fields. He gazed at Fang Chen with puzzled eyes.

“Who are you calling ‘Senior Brother’? Me?”

“You don’t recognize me, Senior Brother?” Fang Chen asked, a little startled.

Realization struck Pitu, and his expression shifted. “If you call me Senior Brother, then I must have known you before. But the Great Enigma Art has gnawed at my memory until almost nothing remains. Did I leave behind some means before my death, to guide you here to find me?”