Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Curtain Rises

By the time midnight arrived in Hangdu, the county office had grown quiet, the crowd dispersed; ordinary folk had long returned home to sleep, or found a place to rest under the government’s arrangements.

Yu Jun stood beneath the eaves, gazing into the pitch-dark night, where scattered stars pricked the sky. For some reason, the turmoil in her heart grew heavier with each passing moment.

Zhou Bai had already returned to the office. He and Daoist Hou had kindled a campfire in the courtyard, roasting dry rations like steamed buns they had scavenged from the kitchen.

Wen Meng and Magistrate Zhao were still deep in discussion over the aftermath of the corpse disaster in Hangdu, and had not come to the courtyard.

Bai Wanming, having expended much of his demonic energy by transforming into an ancient tree, could hold on no longer and had retreated to his room for rest.

Zhou Bai sat cross-legged on the ground, one hand gripping his butcher’s knife, the other gently polishing it with hemp cloth. He turned his head and asked offhandedly, “Old Hou, how are you feeling?”

Daoist Hou managed a bitter smile, scratching his armpit with his right hand. “I suppose I’m all right. At least I’m no longer bothered by the cold or heat. But my stomach hasn’t felt hungry at all.”

“It seems you can now sustain yourself purely by absorbing yin energy,” Zhou Bai remarked. He had tried tempting Daoist Hou with fresh animal blood, but the man felt no instinct to drink it—he only kept retreating into the shadows.

“Life has lost much of its pleasure,” Daoist Hou said wistfully, biting into a steamed bun that tasted like wax.

Zhou Bai clapped him on the shoulder. “Old Hou, once you officially join the Underworld Registry and begin cultivating its arts, you may recover.”

“I hope so. But let’s just get through tonight first,” Daoist Hou replied, instinctively glancing up at Yu Jun on the eaves.

She held the Underworld Registry’s token in her hand, her expression inscrutable. A chill crept into Daoist Hou’s heart.

Zhou Bai, sensing the tension, stood as well and followed Yu Jun’s gaze toward the outskirts of Hangdu. In the distance, thunderclouds pressed low, as if a storm were brewing.

Yu Jun soon leapt down from the eaves, striding swiftly to stand before them. “There’s a surge of yin energy growing denser in the mountain forest by the refugee encampment outside the city.”

“It seems the ghostly entity is about to show itself,” Zhou Bai said, sheathing his butcher’s knife across his back, his face growing solemn.

“Let’s go. Hou Bocheng is already waiting for us. We mustn’t delay.”

With that, Yu Jun sprang into the air, her body transforming mid-leap into her true form. The great leopard landed lightly, then burst forward with astonishing speed, racing toward the outskirts.

Zhou Bai followed close behind, his stride rapid. Whenever he encountered walls or obstacles, he drew on his strength to vault over them.

Only Daoist Hou hesitated. But as the two disappeared from sight, a wave of mortal dread surged through him—so intense that it rivaled what he had felt in Xuzhou. The corners of his eyes twitched, and his already purplish face grew darker.

“Just who in Hangdu is orchestrating all of this? I, an old priest, am truly at my wit’s end. Can’t they leave me be for once?”

With no choice but to follow, Daoist Hou hurried after them. Whether it was because he was drawing closer to Zhou Bai and Yu Jun, or simply leaving the county office behind, that oppressive feeling in his chest eased somewhat.

His pace was steady but not swift. Ever since awakening his ghostly powers, his constitution had improved, though the undead were never known for speed.

By the time Daoist Hou passed through the streets and left Hangdu, the others had already gathered.

They stood a little distance from the refugee camp, backs to one another, eyes fixed on the forest ahead.

Zhou Bai leaned on his butcher’s knife, removing his bamboo hat and slinging it behind him. The murderous aura radiating from his body was almost tangible; after so many battles, fear had been burned from his heart.

Beside him, Hou Bocheng stood encased in iron armor, a ghostly face carved on his chest, strange beasts on each shoulder, and a silver-tipped iron spear longer than a man in his hand.

Yu Jun had taken on a half-human, half-demon form, her long tongue running over her lips, tail flicking the ground and leaving marks behind.

With Daoist Hou, who had just arrived, the four of them standing in a row were more terrifying than any demon or ghost.

Moonlight spilled across the earth. From the woods came a heavy, muffled sound, as if some beast were smashing through the trees, coming straight toward them.

Zhou Bai narrowed his eyes. The yin energy was even more intense than he had imagined. The ghost about to appear had not existed as long as the zombie of Panshan Temple, so why did it seem so formidable?

Hou Bocheng sensed the pressure from the enemy. “My awakened power is called the Iron Mountain in the Stomach—I can hold five hundred catties of iron and stone within my body.”

The iron spear in his hand shifted, transforming in an instant into a heavy sword and then back again.

“I’ll bear the brunt of the ghost’s assault. If you can’t dodge, take cover behind me.”

Yu Jun raised her head and added, “Don’t underestimate Hou Bocheng. In some respects, his strength is on par with his true form.”

Zhou Bai looked at Hou Bocheng in surprise. Unlike the supernatural powers of monsters and ghosts, the human path’s powers had no concept of a ‘true form,’ nor even specific cultivation methods.

To him, the human path’s powers were like general skills in a game, able to mesh with any other power without conflict.

“Leave it to me. I told you already—my abilities are especially effective against the undead.”

Hou Bocheng’s voice rang with confidence from within his armor. In the Underworld Registry, most believed the human path’s powers to be less promising, but he alone thought otherwise, relying on his own efforts to reach this point.

“We both share the surname Hou—perhaps we’re even kin. Look out for me when the time comes,” Daoist Hou said, edging closer to him.

“All right.”

Hou Bocheng, honest and steadfast, took half a step forward, shielding Daoist Hou with his body.

Meanwhile, the commotion in the forest grew louder. Trees toppled in a line, birds and beasts scattered in all directions.

Such a disturbance naturally woke the refugees, who stepped out from their makeshift shelters to see the group standing bathed in moonlight.

Some of the bolder among them even ventured in Zhou Bai’s direction.

Yu Jun frowned and let out a wild, sky-rending howl. The crowd immediately recoiled a step.

Turning her head, her blood-red eyes gleamed in the dim moonlight.

“The Underworld Registry is here! All of you, get lost!”

These refugees, having come from Xuzhou, recognized their authority. Far from panicking, they breathed a sigh of relief and withdrew at once, leaving the scene in perfect order.