Chapter 142: The Underworld

One's soul and spirit seemed to peel away from the physical body, drifting forth to step into another realm. This sensation was extraordinarily marvelous, causing the heart to tremble involuntarily as if pushing open a completely unknown door to face a brand-new, unpredictable world, inevitably inspiring a natural, instinctual awe.

In truth, burning the "No-Cock-Crow Incense" to allow the soul to enter the underworld realm meant that, in the physical world, the body was temporarily soulless and in an undefended state. However, at the current peak of Pen-Rack Mountain, there was not a soul in sight, so there was no fear of anyone walking up to tamper with it.

Moreover, the No-Cock-Crow Incense possessed an early warning function; should it detect any danger arising, it would instantly yank the person's soul back into the flesh.

A soul exiting the body in this manner was fundamentally different from the exiting of a Yin-spirit.

Everyone possessed a soul and spirit, whereas a Yin-spirit generally referred specifically to a certain realm of attainment achieved through Daoist cultivation. The two belonged to different conceptual categories. Once the ordinary soul left the body, it entered the underworld realm; whereas when a Yin-spirit left the body, it still interacted with the reality of time and space. The two could by no means be confused.

Protected by the No-Cock-Crow Incense, Chen Jianchen and Xi Fangping directed their intent, and their souls detached from their physical vessels. With a muffled rumble, the heavens and earth underwent a dramatic transformation. No longer the original world, the two of them found themselves standing side by side beneath a towering mountain.

There were no sun, moon, or stars in the sky, yet it presented the appearance of broad daylight, allowing everything in the surroundings to be seen with great clarity.

Was this... a part of the underworld realm? It seemed different from what they had imagined.

In Chen Jianchen's imagination, the underworld ought to be the eighteen layers of hell—dark and gloomy, filled with mournful clouds and wretched mists, heavy with tragedy, echoing with the wails of ghosts and the howling of spirits, a bloody and terrifying spectacle. Yet looking at it now, it was entirely nothing of the sort. Instead, it was bright and clear; if not for the translucent wisps of cloud floating everywhere in the sky, it looked much like the real world.

Was this the underworld?

Chen Jianchen and Xi Fangping exchanged a glance, each seeing the astonishment in the other's eyes.

"Brother Chen, is this the underworld? It's my first time here, so I don't understand any of this."

A bitter smile appeared on Chen Jianchen's face. "Actually, it's my first time here too."

Xi Fangping's soul-form appeared much as he did in reality, and so did Chen Jianchen's, with the exception that at his waist hung a sword—the Haoran Nourishing-Self Sword.

Times had changed, and this sword had become even more perfect. The carvings on the scabbard were clear and exquisite, shaped precisely like a coiled, winding dragon. The hilt was quite long, measuring about half a foot, colored black, with simple yet generous lines, from which a faint, profound light emanated.

"Eh, Brother Chen, how is it that you have a sword, while I have nothing?"

Having just entered the underworld realm, Xi Fangping was full of novelty and curiosity, looking around everywhere. Upon seeing the Haoran Nourishing-Self Sword, doubts naturally arose in his mind as to why Chen Jianchen had one while he did not.

Chen Jianchen chuckled and said, "A master Daoist once imparted a sword technique to me in the past, hence I have this precious sword to protect my body."

"So that's how it is."

Xi Fangping was filled with deep envy, but that was the extent of it. Having lived through hardship since childhood, he knew that worldly affairs were impermanent and everyone had their own destinies, which could not be forced. Immediately, he asked, "Brother Chen, what should we do next?"

Coming to the underworld was like walking blindfolded into pitch darkness, and he had no idea what to do. Naturally, he would follow Chen Jianchen's lead in all things.

Chen Jianchen remained relatively composed. With a hand resting on the sword hilt, he raised his head to survey the surrounding environment. The mountain before them was exceptionally tall and majestic, covered in lush, verdant trees—truly a magnificent green mountain.

Only, he felt as though something was not quite right...

He knitted his brows, yet could not pinpoint the crucial flaw.

Over on the other side, Xi Fangping suddenly cried out, "Brother Chen, come and look at this."

Chen Jianchen walked over and saw that at the foot of the mountain, right before the mountain path, stood a large bluestone. Inscribed upon its surface in blood-red cinnabar were three vigorous, powerful characters:

"Pen-Rack Mountain!"

This mountain was Pen-Rack Mountain? Why did it look completely different, bearing no resemblance whatsoever?

Chen Jianchen felt a great sense of surprise, but he quickly realized that this mountain ought to be the Pen-Rack Mountain of the underworld realm. Since they belonged to different worlds, naturally their shapes would not be the same.

Since Pen-Rack Mountain was here, the deity of Pen-Rack Mountain would naturally be upon the mountain.

"Let's go, we're going up the mountain!"

Chen Jianchen took the lead and stepped forward.

Xi Fangping closely followed behind. Thinking of how his father was imprisoned in this very place by underworld guards, beaten and tortured day and night, his heart had already flown ahead, desperate to rescue his father.

The mountain path was neatly and smoothly paved with bluestone slabs. Walking upon it felt very steady.

Chen Jianchen looked about as he walked. After traveling a short distance, he finally figured out why he had felt something was amiss earlier—

Silence.

It was far too quiet!

Such a massive green mountain was so utterly desolate that there wasn't even the sound of the wind, let alone the cries of birds or the roars of beasts. It was dead silent, seeming almost like a lifeless mountain devoid of any signs of living activity.

He could not help drawing a long breath, but he had no intention of stopping his steps, continuing to march upward with resolute determination. Since this was the underworld realm, the underworld inherently represented death. All men died eventually, so what was so strange about a dead mountain?

Xi Fangping had initially felt some terror as well, but under Chen Jianchen's influence, his gaze gradually grew resolute, and his pace actually quickened. He was impatient to ascend the mountain and rescue his father from tribulation. As for the evil ghosts that might exist on the mountain, he felt not the slightest bit of fear at this moment, thinking to himself that no matter what, even if he had to take his case all the way before the King of Hell, he would demand justice.

Yet he did not understand that where they currently stood was merely a mountain under the jurisdiction of the underworld, countless miles away from the domain of the King of Hell. How could he possibly find the King of Hell to lodge an imperial complaint? At best, causing a ruckus all the way to the City God of Jiangzhou would be an extraordinary feat. According to Ding Yin's account, Lord Wang, the City God of Jiangzhou, and Lord Hou, the deity of Pen-Rack Mountain, were practically birds of a feather; when the time came, the former certainly would not speak up for Xi Fangping.

Chen Jianchen's thoughts, however, were different. He had come to the underworld and sought out Hou Qing precisely to stir up trouble; bluntly put, he was here to shake the mountain.

While this certainly stemmed in part from a desire to stand up for Ding Yin, there were other reasons as well. One of them was that he wanted to test the Haoran Nourishing-Self Sword in his hand.

An ancient poem went: "For ten years I sharpened this sword," solely to ask the question: "Who holds an injustice?"

Therefore, by this point, Chen Jianchen had far too many reasons for charging up Pen-Rack Mountain.

The souls of the two walked along the mountain path of the underworld realm, feeling just as they did in reality, with seemingly no difference. Step by step, they ascended, listening all the way to the sound of their own footsteps...

"Halt! What manner of men are you, daring to trespass upon Pen-Rack Mountain?"

Suddenly, an explosive shout rang out from around a bend halfway up the mountain. A red-skinned ghost guard with a blue face and protruding fangs jumped out into the middle of the path, holding a steel trident and radiating a ferocious aura as he blocked their way.

Xi Fangping was startled, reflexively shrinking back just a fraction.

Chen Jianchen showed no fear whatsoever. He strode forward to meet the creature and said, "Underworld guard, please go up the mountain at once to report this. Tell them that Chen Jianchen of Jiangzhou has come to see the mountain deity."

The ghost guard bellowed, "You scoundrel, trespassing upon the mountain gate, you have already committed a grave crime! And yet you still wish to meet Lord Mountain Deity? What sheer delusion! Taste my trident first!"

With that, he raised his steel trident and viciously thrust it forward.