Chapter 437: Night Entry into the Yin Capital

"Yin Changsheng?"

The old man slowly turned, his face icy, that jet-black ghost eye appearing profoundly chilling, "Are you mocking me? Who in Fengdu County doesn't know 'Yin Changsheng'!"

"Oh?"

Li Yan, slightly surprised, bowed and said, "This humble disciple has come from afar and truly did not know. I beg you, Elder, to enlighten me."

The old man frowned. "It's simple."

He pointed toward the high mountains of Jiangbei. "This sacred mountain is one of the Daoist Caverns of Bliss precisely because of 'Yin Changsheng.'"

"This mountain was originally called 'Pingdu Mountain.' During the Han Dynasty, the Daoist adept Yin Changsheng and Wang Fangping cultivated here, and legends say they ascended to immortality. Later, the people combined 'Yin' and 'Wang' in speech, mispronouncing it as 'Yin Wang.'"

"Moreover, this mountain is truly strange—cultivators struggle to stabilize their spirits; every midnight, illusions swarm. Over time, the name 'Ghost City' spread."

"During the Northern Song, Su Shi inscribed a poem: 'Pingdu, the ancient famed mountain.' Since then, it has been called 'Mingshan.'"

"In short, the origin of Fengdu's Ghost City lies in 'Yin Changsheng' and 'Wang Fangping.'"

"So that's how it is…"

Li Yan listened, lost in thought.

He hadn't expected Yin Changsheng to be so famous here.

And now there was Wang Fangping too.

Wang Fangping was also a figure in the Biographies of Immortals.

Ordinary people knew little of him, but in the Daoist sects, his name was renowned, with several anecdotes widely told.

First, Emperor Huan of Han repeatedly summoned him, but Wang Fangping ignored him. The emperor then sent men to drag him to the capital in a cart. Upon arrival, Wang Fangping inscribed four hundred prophetic characters on the palace gate. The emperor ordered them scraped away, but the ink had seeped into the wood—each scrape only made the characters clearer.

Second, when he traveled, envoys with sealed mouths cleared his path, five dragons pulled his carriage, banners and ceremonial flags followed, and mountain and river spirits came to pay homage wherever he passed—apparently some form of transcendental technique, immensely imposing.

There was also the tale of his connection with "Magu."

"Magu" was even more famous; many places, including Mount Qingcheng, have Magu's Cave. Li Bai once wrote in "Short Song": "Magu's temples hang low, half turned to frost."

And Yin Changsheng surpassed even that.

He transmitted his Dao to Bao Jing, whose father-in-law was Ge Xianweng; even the Daoist lineages of Shu were profoundly influenced by Yin Changsheng.

But what Li Yan wanted to ask was not this.

Judging by the old man's appearance, he likely didn't know Yin Changsheng's other identity: the Living Yin Officer.

And not just any Living Yin Officer—he was one who had ascended to godhood.

Thinking of this, Li Yan probed further: "Elder, what I wish to know is whether there are any relics or cultivation sites left by Yin Changsheng here."

"There are plenty."

The old man sneered. "On this sacred mountain, there are at least eight or ten caves claimed as Yin Changsheng's cultivation spots—any cave you find, you just say it's his."

"I advise you not to waste your time. For a thousand years, this mountain has been turned upside down. Think instead about how you'll survive tonight."

He added, puzzled: "By the way, you were so arrogant just now—why are you so humble now?"

Li Yan fell silent, glancing at the boy in the cabin, a flicker of pity in his eyes. "Using ghost qi to sustain life won't last long…"

That was why he had changed his attitude.

Only when he drew near did he realize the boy was already beyond cure—his soul should have scattered long ago, yet he used yin ghost qi to bind it together.

Hence, he never left the cabin, wrapped in cotton quilts, for he felt at every moment as if plunged into the netherworld, his body freezing to the bone.

He couldn't cultivate at all—only used summoning scrolls to suppress the ghost qi and prolong his life, effectively a living corpse.

The orthodox Daoist sects wouldn't even need an excuse to strike.

No wonder the old man was so hostile.

This boy was the weakest kind of Living Yin Officer; that agreement was the only guarantee keeping the grandfather and grandson alive.

"Don't meddle!"

At these words, the old man erupted in fury, gasping heavily, his voice trembling.

Li Yan fell silent, saying nothing more.

The old man likely practiced ghost arts, frequently inviting fierce spirits to possess him for battle.

More likely still, he did it to help his grandson complete his tasks.

After all, no skilled cultivator would bother guarding this burden…

Pitiful?

Of course pitiful!

But there was nothing to be done…

After a long silence, the old man gazed at the river. As the boat neared shore, he suddenly spoke: "I hail from Yinshan Sect. Once, like you, I relied on my arts to act without restraint—eventually, I paid the price."

"My son practiced ghost arts, greedy and reckless, and as a result, his child was born with a weak soul, bound by ghost qi."

"The organization of Living Yin Officers is called 'Huangquan!'"

"I mean you no harm—I only wish to avoid turmoil in Fengdu, to let my grandson linger a few more years on this Huangquan path…"

"Go. When you reach the Reception Hall, someone will guide you into the mountain."

Li Yan nodded silently. As the boat drew close, he leapt ashore, turned, and bowed. "Elder, rest assured—no matter what happens tonight, I'll depart as soon as possible."

Saying this, he turned and climbed the mountain into the thick mist and rain…

…………

Outside Fengdu City, by the riverside dock.

It was deep night; the dock lay pitch-black. Even the oil lamps in a few boats could barely pierce the storm-lashed darkness.

Splash!

The river churned, crashing against the dock.

Plop!

On the green stone steps, a pair of footprints suddenly appeared.

Then, the footprints reappeared—now outside Fengdu City.

Outside Fengdu stood an ancient bronze sculpture, its form bizarre: a colossal ghost head.

As the footprints drew near, faint white smoke emerged from the bronze ghost's mouth, accompanied by the faint clinking of chains.

The footprints retreated swiftly, pacing restlessly along the riverbank.

One small boat on the dock was dark outside, but inside, an oil lamp glowed dimly, like a dying ember. Two figures sat cross-legged before a table.

"Did you find out?"

"At Wangxiang Inn, just as Master Lu said—once we leaked the news, they were stopped."

"What about Qingniu Temple?"

"We've sent word. We used the Western Traveling Beggar Gang in the city—they take money and know nothing; they won't reveal our identities."

"I still don't get why Master Lu went to all this trouble. We spent so much money—we have plenty of skilled cultivators."

"You ignorant fool, this is called killing three birds with one stone!"

Before the words were fully spoken, the wet footprints appeared suddenly outside the cabin, spreading coldness—the wooden planks rapidly rotted…

…………

Wind and rain swirled; the mountain gate loomed dark and gloomy.

The archway towered high, inscribed with the four characters "Famed Mountain Under Heaven"—older than its later versions, the stone weathered and pitted.

As Li Yan approached the archway, he sensed something wrong.

His body grew inexplicably cold—not just the summoning scroll in his bosom, but the mountain's vital energy itself felt peculiar.

"Stop."

From behind the towering archway, a figure suddenly emerged, wearing a Nuo mask and a black robe, his face hidden.

From his silhouette alone, he appeared to be a middle-aged man.

His voice carried undeniable authority: "You've entered this place—don't regret it. The 'Huangquan Gathering' has not yet begun; only we remain here to guard Fengdu. Originally, with Wu Qu's recommendation and your status, you could have entered directly—but you broke a taboo. You must walk the Huangquan path."

"But rest assured—if you pass Mingshan, your violation of the agreement will be forgiven. Though only we remain here, we'll testify for you."

"If the Wushan hermits cause trouble, we'll act directly—after all, the orthodox Daoist sects have long resented them…"

That's probably the real reason.

Li Yan thought to himself.

Pick the softest melon to squeeze.

Wushan had many hermits—even the orthodox sects had suffered losses—but their greatest nemesis was the Living Yin Officers.

Never mind anything else; just ten living yin officials casting the vital energy command could sweep the entire Wushan Mountain clean, but they feared making too much noise.

It seems the Living Yin Officers' "Huangquan" organization has lain dormant too long, and someone wants to use this incident to make a statement.

In an instant, Li Yan understood the full reason.

Of course, he wouldn't say it aloud—his expression remained calm.

!.

The black-robed man, seeing his demeanor, seemed slightly surprised, then spoke: "Don't think this test is simple—if it were easy to pass, would it be a trial?"

"Especially for Living Yin Officers—few who attempt it succeed."

"Remember, once inside the mountain, go first to the Reception Hall—but before that, visit the Dongyue Temple… By the way, what sect's method do you cultivate?"

"The Luo Feng Jing."

"The Luo Feng Jing?!"

The black-robed man had asked casually, but Li Yan's answer stunned him: "How did you come to cultivate the Luo Feng Jing? Who guided you? This is sheer madness!"

Li Yan frowned slightly. "I had no guide. Is there something wrong with cultivating the Luo Feng Jing?"

"Of course there's a problem!"

The black-robed man said gravely: "The Luo Feng Scripture is an ancient method, but the mortal world has changed—ancient methods aren't necessarily better than modern ones."

"Our Six Paths Scripture divides into the Three Good Paths and the Three Evil Paths: the Deva Path, the Human Path, the Asura Path, and the Animal, Hell, and Hungry Ghost Paths. Each cultivator specializes in one path, making their power stronger against corresponding enemies."

"More importantly, the Luo Feng Scripture is extremely difficult to cultivate—even in ancient times, few succeeded. How much less so now?"

"Don't be fooled by the fact that the Six Paths concept originated in the Buddhist sect—Yin Si completed it, and we Living Yin Officials practice both Buddhist and Daoist methods. Even if someone taught it to you, a Living Yin Official cultivating the Luo Feng Scripture is the worst possible choice!"

There's such a thing?

Li Yan was startled.

He hadn't realized he, like Lu San, was cultivating a method out of step with the age.

But thinking of all he'd gained on this path, he shook his head: "Ancient or modern, a method is a method—if it works, that's enough."

"Enough."

The black-robed man seemed unwilling to argue further. "Since you cultivate the Luo Feng Scripture, go to the western side of the Reception Hall, to the Fengdu Hall, and pay your respects. Then enter the Reception Hall."

"All those on the mountain are mortals—we've already warned them. Tonight, the mountain gate is open, and no one will come out to disturb you."

"Remember: after entering the Ghost Gate, do not turn around no matter who calls your name. Pass through the Yuanjue Hall—all is the Yellow Springs Road. Walk only the straight path. No matter what you see, do not stray from the road."

"This is the experience of those who came before. The rest depends on you. If you fail, lie still where you are. Never run about. Wait until dawn, and you'll pass safely."

With that, he waved his hand. "Go. I'll wait for you beneath the Wangxiang Terrace on the back mountain. If you arrive before nightfall, you've passed."

Li Yan bowed slightly, passed through the mountain gate, climbed the stone steps, and vanished into the mist.

The black-robed man, meanwhile, shook his head and took a detour toward the back mountain.

…………

In his past life, Li Yan had visited Fengdu Ghost City.

But back then, the sacred mountain had been ravaged by war and destruction, and much of it had been rebuilt later.

Yet this sacred mountain had never been interrupted.

After climbing hundreds of green stone steps, a broad, level expanse appeared above him. In the center stood the Reception Hall; on either side were the Dongyue Hall and the Fengdu Hall.

One enshrined the Great Emperor of Dongyue.

The other enshrined the Northern Yin, Great Emperor of Fengdu.

Both seemed to be great deities of the netherworld, yet their duties differed.

The Great Emperor of Dongyue, chief of the Five Sacred Mountains, had many legends about his origins: some say he was an incarnation of Pangu, others the Golden Rainbow Clan, or Taihao.

According to the Xuanmen, he governs life and death, human fortune and misfortune, and serves as the bridge between heaven, earth, humanity, and the gods.

For Living Yin Officials to worship him was perfectly natural.

But Li Yan glanced once and walked straight toward the Fengdu Hall.

Because of the advance notice, all the hall doors stood wide open, lit by dim candles flickering uncertainly in the wind and rain.

And Li Yan soon sensed something strange.

The Gou Die in his bosom grew colder, and he felt his yang energy steadily suppressed, as if sinking into an ice cellar.

At some point, thick fog had risen around him, dim and hazy, obscuring vision. The three great halls stood distant in the mist, appearing even more eerie.

It felt as though, without realizing it, he had entered the netherworld.

This sensation was just like the Divine Communication Technique…

Li Yan looked around thoughtfully and kept walking.

He remembered clearly the scenes of the Divine Communication Technique.

Though his soul still dwelled in his body now, he suspected he'd see things ordinary people could never perceive…

Arriving at the Fengdu Hall, Li Yan looked up.

The statue of the Great Emperor of Fengdu here was identical to the one he'd seen in that small sect: wearing a royal crown, solemn and awe-inspiring, with twelve jade pendants hanging behind, hands clasped in seal, holding a divine talisman.

Li Yan bowed respectfully and lit incense, yet felt no fear.

He already knew that deities like the Great Emperor of Fengdu, Zhenwu, the Buddha, and the Queen Mother had ascended to divinity long ago.

These statues in the mortal world, no matter how fervent the incense offerings, were merely earth spirits—not the true originals. Their power corresponded directly to the strength of the worship.

But figures like the Saint Emperor Guan and the Second Son of Heaven were top-tier earth spirits, revered across Shenzhou, their power immeasurable.

Thinking of the "Chengdu merchant," Li Yan's scalp prickled—this was beyond anything he could comprehend.

He lit three sticks of incense, inserted them into the censer, bowed respectfully, glanced around, saw nothing unusual, then turned to leave.

He didn't notice that after he departed, a faint breeze swirled around the statue of the Northern Yin, Great Emperor of Fengdu, making the candles inside the hall flicker wildly.

Arriving at the Reception Hall, it too was empty.

This place usually hosted pilgrims for meals and lodging, even had rooms for rest, but all were ancient brick and weathered wood, long abandoned, smelling of mildew.

But once he passed through the Reception Hall, the situation changed instantly.

The fog thickened; beyond five paces, nothing was visible.

Li Yan tightened his alertness and walked along the stone path.

Hhh~

Suddenly, a chilling wind surged. The thick fog churned, and Li Yan immediately smelled two powerful incense scents—massive figures stood on either side of him in the mist.

"Hng!"

A roar shook his skull, leaving it ringing.

"Ha!"

Another roar made his chest ache, nearly knocking him down.

It was the Heng and Ha Generals!

The mountain-guarding divine generals.

Li Yan's body tensed, his eyelids twitching.

This wasn't what the black-robed man had described…

(End of Chapter)