Chapter 581: Yin Nuo Opera

Nie Sangu stared wide-eyed, not missing a single detail.

The object stood three feet tall, cast from bronze alloy, its surface treated with the "Black Lacquer Antiquity" method, glowing with a deep green patina that chilled the touch.

Its base was the Nine Springs of the Netherworld Platform, a three-tiered hexagonal Sumeru pedestal, each tier carved with reliefs of different hell transformations; six eaves jutted outward, each hanging a "Soul-Seizing Bell," even the bell tongues made of Chenzhou talisman copper sheets.

The stage was the Yin-Yang Mirror, divided into upper and lower levels.

Likely aligned with the principle of "Humans and Ghosts Sharing the Stage…"

Nie Sangu watched and pondered.

It was no wonder she fixated—this artifact was infamous.

The "Ghost Troupe" of old had earned its fearsome reputation, even troubling the orthodox Daoist sects, precisely because of this treasure.

The artifact itself was a magical array.

When the Netherworld Stage appeared, the netherworld descended.

In its prime, it was truly formidable…

Yet Nie Sangu soon noticed something amiss, frowning in doubt: "This treasure was likely forged not long ago?"

"Your insight is sharp."

Situ Qian, gritting his teeth, sat down slowly and said: "The Netherworld Stage is the foundation of our Ghost Troupe, but we once had only one."

"The troupe master spent ten years, aided by a master artifact-crafter, finally forging several new ones, each squad now carries one."

Hearing this, Nie Sangu's eyelids twitched violently: "How many are there in total?"

Situ Qian smiled faintly, saying nothing.

Seeing his expression, Nie Sangu thought inwardly: This Ghost Troupe's return is no trivial matter.

This affair is too big—if it fails, we'll be hunted by the court, unable to stay in Shu, perhaps even forced to seek refuge with the Ghost Troupe.

Thinking this, Old Tangyuan, Nie Sangu, grew even more amiable: "Your troupe is truly extraordinary—if opportunity arises, please introduce me. I wish to pay my respects to the troupe master."

Situ Qian caught the implication, his face breaking into a smile: "Naturally. Your reputation is renowned—the troupe master will surely wish to meet you."

Both were seasoned veterans, each understanding the other's intent.

Situ Qian deliberately revealed the Netherworld Stage for the same reason.

Among Prince Shu's four top experts, the Water Artisan Tian Qi is dead; the Blood Nuo Master and the Black Sect monk are foreign; the only one worth courting is Nie Sangu.

After all, Prince Shu may turn on them afterward.

Situ Qian glanced outside, gave a signal; the mourning-drama actress Bai Qihong stepped out immediately, standing guard to prevent eavesdropping.

Situ Qian then spoke bluntly: "Nie Elder, was Prince Shu's sudden change of plan truly impulsive? Do you know the truth behind it?"

Nie Sangu hesitated, then shook her head: "I know nothing. The Prince is inscrutable—only the Blood Nuo Master, Ba Daiza, likely knows."

"Heh… So even the Prince doesn't trust you."

Situ Qian smiled coldly, lowering his voice: "I heard something—the Prince's treasury has been emptied, all treasures moved to Dujiangyan. He never intended to pay us."

Nie Sangu was startled: "It must be a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?"

Situ Qian's tone turned icy: "Do you truly believe it's a misunderstanding?"

Nie Sangu's face darkened: "Something is indeed amiss. What do you intend to do?"

Situ Qian's lips curled: "Wait for the right moment. I have a feeling—the Prince's troubles extend far beyond the city."

"Elder, remember: we can join forces. Don't let others deceive us blindly…"

Nie Sangu understood, giving a slight nod.

At that moment, both turned toward the door.

A lavishly dressed eunuch, accompanied by several men, hurried into the courtyard—it was Liu Eunuch, the Prince's seal-bearer.

"Servant greets all sirs."

Liu Eunuch was courteous, bowing respectfully before speaking: "Night is falling. The preparations are complete. The Prince has ordered: kill them, but make no loud commotion."

"Hmm."

Situ Qian gazed out the window—the night had fallen; though no snow had come, the cold of the twelfth month bit deeper…

…………

On the pitch-black street, the wind howled fiercely.

Snow lay half a foot deep; icicles hung in rows from eaves.

"Put it down…"

"Order the soldiers born under Dragon, Tiger, or Rooster to leave. Do not approach within two streets. If they die, it's no concern of mine…"

Situ Qian commanded coldly, his entire body radiating dark energy.

Under his direction, soldiers with black cloth over their heads slowly lowered the heavy Netherworld Stage, then arranged firepots around it.

Soldiers born under forbidden zodiac signs were ordered away.

Feng Laohai, born under the Tiger, was among them.

He followed the others away, gazing from afar at the Netherworld Stage's shadow in the firelight—his pupils shrank, his face filled with terror.

Yet he dared not show any abnormality.

These demons—he could not afford to anger any of them…

Huh~

Around the Netherworld Stage, the firepots were lit one by one.

The incense inside was made of strange roots, mixed with dried bones and some corpse oil.

Green flames flickered, casting the surroundings like a netherworld.

Before the Netherworld Stage, besides "Ghost Zhong Kui" Situ Qian and "Mourning-Drama Actress" Bai Qihong, several black-clad men and women held various instruments, their faces as grim as water.

Further off stood several sorcerers.

Their leader was none other than Old Tangyuan, Nie Sangu.

Among Prince Shu's four top experts, the Blood Nuo Master was chasing Cheng Jianxian; Tian Qi was dead; the Black Sect lama Duoji Zaxi was occupied in the palace—thus, only Nie Sangu could command this operation.

Situ Qian held a Luo Pan, pacing before the Netherworld Stage, drawing a "Reverse Bagua" on the ground with rooster's blood mixed with cinnabar, then burying ash and iron nails from the dead at key array points…

"Nie Elder."

Behind her, a sorcerer, puzzled, could not help asking: "We've all heard of the Netherworld Stage—but what play is this?"

"It's called Yin Nuo Opera."

Nie Sangu's expression was grave: "A hundred years ago, the magistrate of Kuizhou destroyed the Yin Nuo altar at Yunyang's Laojun Village. The 'Kuizhou Prefecture Annals' recorded: 'Wu and Xi practicing Yin Nuo pretend to be Zhong Kui, luring living souls to feed ghosts—strictly forbidden by the government.' That's this method."

"In eastern Sichuan, people still say: 'Better hear ghosts wail than see Yin Nuo.' In Zhong County's Shibaobao, Chongqing, the 'Nuo-Subduing Iron Stele' still stands to suppress Yin Nuo Opera."

As she spoke, a sinister excitement gleamed in her eyes: "You're lucky—tonight, you'll witness it firsthand."

"Just follow the old woman. If you die, don't blame me…"

Hearing this, the others' scalps prickled.

To them, Nie Sangu was already a demon—yet if even she treated this with such gravity, it must be far worse.

Unconsciously, it was nearly midnight.

The Netherworld Stage stood still in the center of the street, surrounded by ghostly flames.

Situ Qian now wore full Zhong Kui attire, one hand holding a sword, the other a fan, chanting incantations as he stepped backward.

"Reverse Tian Gang Step…"

Someone in the crowd felt their scalp tighten.

The Reverse Tian Gang Step meant not tracing the Big Dipper's seven stars as Daoist tradition dictates, but stepping on the six stars of the Southern Dipper instead.

This step summoned only death energy.

At the same time, Situ Qian barked:

"Midnight arrives—open the Netherworld Stage!"

Ling ling ling!

The Chenzhou talisman copper bells on the Netherworld Stage rang sharply.

Situ Qian swung his large fan—three paper spirit tablets fluttered in the wind, landing before the stage, inscribed with the names of the Three Yin Generals: "Seven Killers," "Broken Army," and "Greed Wolf."

Dang dang dang!

The masked musicians struck drums and gongs in unison.

Meanwhile, "Mourning-Drama Actress" Bai Qihong sang in a mournful tone, waving her water sleeves before the Netherworld Stage:

"Ai~ya~"

"The green lamp before Buddha cannot light the Netherworld Sea; Hell has no gate—this old woman opens it herself. See how I build a lotus throne in the Hungry Ghost Realm, before the Ten Kings of Hell!"

Her voice, sorrowful, pierced the night.

Some sorcerers, hearing it, suddenly felt a surge of rage and venom rise in their chests, their eyes slowly turning blood-red.

"Hold your spirit steady!" Nie Sangu spoke just in time, snapping them back.

"This… this is…"

A monk's voice trembled, disbelief on his face.

Nie Sangu turned, grinning wickedly: "You've heard of it?"

The monk swallowed hard: "It's the Reverse Mokuren Opera…"

"The Blood Basin Calamity!"

No sooner had he spoken than black mist erupted from the Netherworld Stage, swirling in the air before plunging violently into the ground.

Cold, malevolent qi spread rapidly.

Snow on the ground whirled upward, as if dark winds were rising from beneath the earth.

Gales swept up snowflakes; all soldiers guarding outside instinctively raised their hands to shield themselves, their legs cold and trembling from the freeze.

Not a single mistake in word, note, or content—every detail clear!

"What the hell are those people up to?"

The battalion commander who had mocked Lu Laohei muttered in dissatisfaction.

"My lord… look!"

Before he finished speaking, the soldier beside him trembled and pointed ahead.

The battalion commander looked up—and saw the entire Chengdu Prefecture government compound, its surrounding ground now enveloped in white mist, which in an instant swallowed everything whole.

Crack!

The stone lions at the prefecture's gate shattered completely.

Within the thick fog, shadowy figures emerged, accompanied by wails of sorrow.

The battalion commander gritted his teeth: "Hold firm! Anyone who shows himself—shoot!"

Even the divine fire gun in his hand gave him not the slightest sense of safety…

…………

"Here it comes!"

At the very moment Situ Qian activated his technique, Li Yan snapped open his eyes.

They were guarding the outside of the gunpowder depot.

The Yunyun Daoist from Baiyun Temple had also set up his altar, with several disciples guarding it, while Dong Cunshan of Bagua Gate and others protected Inspector Wang.

Beside Inspector Wang stood an old monk, a wandering ascetic who had pledged his service to the inspector.

Hearing the opera singing from the darkness afar, the old monk's eyes widened in shock: "Demon! How dare you perform such dark arts?!"

Li Yan frowned slightly. "What opera is this?"

The old monk growled: "It's the inverted Mokuren Opera—telling how Lady Liu of the Four Sisters escaped hell and became the 'Blood Basin Holy Mother,' ruler of ten thousand hungry ghosts. This is Yin Nu Opera—long banned. How could anyone still know it?!"

With that, he slammed his staff into the ground.

Boom!

Snowflakes sprayed outward as he chanted a sutra, forming a spell.

"Quick! Raise the Seven Stars Flag!"

The Baiyun Daoist's face was grim as he gave a low command.

The surrounding Daoists simultaneously drew flags from beside the altar.

These flags were strange: embroidered with sun, moon, and stars, they looked no different from ordinary ritual flags—but shaped like kites.

Each was tied at the back with kite strings.

Seven Daoists released their hold at once—the kites shot skyward with a howl.

Li Yan could feel the dark winds rising from the ground, chilling the back of his neck.

"Bad! It's Bi Wind!"

Dong Cunshan beside him shouted: "Quick! Gather close to the altar!"

Bi Wind?!

Li Yan, hearing this, was startled.

He had heard of it from Wang Daoxuan—it was a demonic wind formed from the yin-evil energy of heaven and earth, regarded by the Daoist sects as a calamity.

It was even mentioned in Journey to the West.

The Patriarch Bodhi told the Great Sage: "After another five hundred years, a wind disaster will descend upon you, called 'Bi Wind.' It enters the six viscera, passes through the dantian, pierces the nine orifices, dissolves flesh and bone, and your body will unravel."

Though exaggerated, it revealed the wind's deadly nature.

Mortals touched by it would have their spirits scattered.

Even Daoist cultivators could have their spirit retention disrupted.

Indeed, the soldiers defending around them, struck by the rising demonic wind from soles to crown, immediately went blind before their eyes and collapsed one after another.

Only Inspector Wang, shielded by Dong Cunshan and the Bagua disciples, was brought straight to the altar and escaped unharmed.

Beside the altar, incense curled, and the demonic wind no longer swirled wildly.

The old monk continued chanting, countering the sounds from outside.

"Wicked fiends! Cease your arrogance!"

The Baiyun Daoist's face darkened; he swung his ritual sword, stepped the Nine Palaces, and chanted: "Primordial Qi of Heaven, Yin and Yang undivided, mingling and ascending, above and below give birth… make men unseen, make spirits unheard—swiftly, as the law commands!"

Upon finishing the incantation, he slammed his peachwood ritual sword down.

On the altar's table lay several bowls of mixed grains.

Rustle-rustle!

The grains seemed stirred by some unseen force.

The surrounding demonic wind gradually subsided.

The Shangqing Liu Ren Yin Fu Jing?

Li Yan was surprised—this was the Shangqing Dongshen Method, said to have originated from Guiguzi, famed throughout the world.

No wonder the old Daoist dared speak so boldly.

"Master Jinghai, hurry into the formation!"

The Baiyun Daoist called out to the distant monk.

The old monk's chanting had bought them time by resisting the Yin Nu Opera—otherwise, more would have fallen.

But before he finished speaking, a woman's operatic voice rang again through the night sky.

"Namo Amitabha—pah!"

"The golden bowl cannot hold the suffering of all beings, the monk's staff cannot match ten thousand bleached bones; today I smash the plaque of Ling Shan, and follow Mother to light the incense of living souls…"

Puff!

The old monk turned deathly pale and spat blood, staggering backward, nearly falling.

This opera voice directly suppressed Buddhist power.

And the old monk, clearly affected, his eyes turned blood-red as he laughed maniacally: "A hundred ghosts carry my palanquin—come take me!"

"Hahahaha…"

Amidst the mad laughter, he charged straight into the thick fog.

Before anyone could react, the mist around them thickened instantly, turning pitch black—even distant lanterns vanished from sight.

Bi Wind surged again, howling through the surroundings.

Only the seven Daoists' ritual kites still drifted in the air, faintly glowing like the Big Dipper.

No matter how fiercely the demonic wind howled, it could not draw near the altar.

Yet the Baiyun Daoist's face grew grim: "Inspector, this old man overreached—today, we may only break out."

"This is the Ghost Opera Troupe's Netherworld Stage. They sing the Yin Nu Opera 'Mokuren Saves His Mother,' followed by the Three Yin Generals entering to hunt us down. I cannot hold them."

"If the 'Blood Basin Holy Mother' is summoned, you all die!"

Inspector Wang remained calm: "The area is still surrounded by garrison troops, and demonic arts are at work—how can we break out?"

The Baiyun Daoist said gravely: "We've fallen into the Netherworld Opera Stage formation. The formation moves with us; the demonic wind, though deadly, may actually aid our escape."

He pointed upward: "Quick! Follow the Big Dipper!"

Inspector Wang froze: "Master… you…"

The Baiyun Daoist said firmly: "I must guard the altar. As long as the altar stands, the Seven Stars remain—go now!"

"Go!"

Inspector Wang gritted his teeth and ordered the group to break out.

True enough, as they advanced, the surrounding black mist shifted swiftly—the altar behind them vanished.

In the darkness, only the Big Dipper glimmered…

(End of Chapter)