Chapter 143: The Mountain Deity

Without a word of warning, the nether-runner thrust forward with the steel pitchfork in its hand, striking directly at Chen Jianchen with fierce and murderous momentum.

Chen Jianchen’s expression sank. Reversing the "Awe-Inspiring Nurturing Sword," he used the scabbard to deliver a sharp counter-swipe. With a crisp snap, the blow blocked the opponent’s pitchfork. The moment the sword and fork met, the nether-runner felt a formidable surge of righteous, yang energy transmit straight into its hands, rendering almost its entire body numb. In the next instant, it felt as though it were about to be battered into scattered soul and shattered wits.

Crack!

Helplessly, it tumbled to the ground and lay there for a long while, unable to crawl back up.

Chen Jianchen had no intention of executing it. He sneered, "Respected nether-runner, you had best behave yourself and go report to the Mountain Deity upstairs."

Transitioning from initial arrogance and haughtiness to absolute silence of terror, the nether-runner no longer dared to utter a peep. Struggling to its feet, it scrambled up the mountain in a flurry of smoke.

Xi Fangping’s eyes were opened to a whole new world. He gave Chen Jianchen a thumbs-up and praised, "Brother Chen is truly extraordinary."

Chen Jianchen replied indifferently, "Merely a trivial skill. Brother Xi, once we reach the top and face the Mountain Deity, you must not show cowardice or fear; you must argue your case with reason."

Recalling the fright he suffered when the little ghost first appeared, Xi Fangping’s face flushed. He cupped his fists and said, "What Brother Chen says is entirely correct. It was merely my own lack of experience and narrow perspective."

In truth, his performance up to this point had already been quite commendable. Had it been any ordinary scholar or candidate facing such a fierce and malevolent nether-runner, their reaction would likely have been far more unsightly.

The two continued onward. As they passed the halfway point of the mountain, numerous lingering specters began to appear indistinctly on both sides of the mountain path. The appearances of these wandering ghosts were utterly terrifying: some were headless, while others possessed only half a head; some had their lower bodies severed completely, with pale, glistening intestines dragging along the ground. Even those whose facial features and bodies were relatively intact had bulging eyes, split jaws, protruding tongues, and crooked noses, wearing exceptionally ferocious expressions.

They continuously surged forth from both sides, staring unblinkingly at Chen Jianchen and Xi Fangping. There were no fewer than several hundred wandering souls residing upon Pen Holder Mountain. They had no business existing upon the mountain at all; rather, Hou Qing, the Mountain Deity, had used various methods to intercept and conceal them, intending to train them into his personal enforcers and ghostly slaves—effectively raising a private militia.

By contrast, river deities capable of self-discipline, such as Ding Yin, kept only two nether-runners under their command to run errands.

Hou Qing’s maintenance of a private army was a direct violation of the Netherworld’s laws. Yet, just as there were no truly upright officials in the mortal realm, there were no truly incorruptible deities in the netherworld. Ninety-nine out of a hundred ghosts and gods violated the nether laws; as long as nothing went wrong, who would ever inspect what filth lay beneath another’s seat?

Or perhaps, everyone sat upon a pile of filth, differing only in quantity. Whether one could contain the stench from spreading depended entirely on one’s capability and methods.

As these hundreds of wandering ghosts flickered into view, Xi Fangping could not help his heart from pounding, and his legs began to tremble uncontrollably despite himself.

"Treat the bizarre as ordinary, and its strangeness naturally collapses!"

Beside him, Chen Jianchen remained entirely calm and composed. He shouted aloud, "Brother Xi, with such calm winds, tranquil clouds, and such a fine landscape, why not let me tell you a story?"

Tranquil clouds, calm winds, and a fine landscape?

Xi Fangping was practically driven to tears. Countless malicious ghosts and wronged spirits were lurking nearby with predatory gazes! Look, the closest one—a hanging ghost—had a tongue nearly a foot long, dripping with crimson as it dragged upon the ground. It was enough to make one’s blood run cold. Could this possibly be called a fine landscape? I doubt I have ever experienced such a nightmare in all my life!

To treat malicious ghosts as absolute nothingness—Chen Jianchen’s boldness was truly astonishing, far exceeding all imagination.

Xi Fangping’s palms were slick with sweat, but influenced by Chen Jianchen’s composure, he felt considerably less afraid. Pulling himself together, he asked, "Brother Chen’s story must be exceptionally brilliant. I am eager to hear the details."

Smiling faintly, Chen Jianchen began to narrate in a smooth, unhurried tone: "In ancient times, there was a man named Song Dingbo. When he was young, he was walking along a night road and happened to encounter a ghost..."

The story of Song Dingbo capturing a ghost was widely circulated in his past life, serving as a popular textbook piece that many knew by heart. However, Xi Fangping had never heard it before. He was immediately captivated, listening with rapt attention—especially when he heard how Song Dingbo used exceptional wit to tease and trick the ghost, which brought a smile that he simply could not hold back.

As it turned out, the so-called ghosts were not nearly as fierce and ruthless as one might imagine; instead, they appeared rather clumsy, somewhat foolish, and quite naive.

Thinking along these lines, Xi Fangping no longer felt much fear toward the numerous wandering souls closing in around them. Although he could not yet manage the breezy, lighthearted banter of Chen Jianchen, the terror in his gaze receded like the tide, and he straightened his chest. By the time he heard how Song Dingbo ultimately sold the ghost—which had transformed into a sheep—he even burst into an involuntary, knowing laugh.

What is a ghost? If you fear it, it is a fiend; if you do not fear it, it is merely a sheep.

There was profound truth in these words.

Countless wandering ghosts drew closer and closer in various postures. Yet, when they were still a dozen or so paces away, Chen Jianchen’s Awe-Inspiring Sword abruptly cleared its scabbard. The righteous energy blazed like the Dipper constellation, radiating a brilliant, luminous glow that enveloped them completely.

Ying ya ya...

The wandering ghosts immediately let out piercing, unearthly shrieks, as if they had encountered an existence of ultimate terror. Like a receding tide, they scattered in all directions, no longer daring to approach within a three-zhang radius. If not for the restraints of their orders, they likely would have fled into the distance long ago.

At this sight, Xi Fangping stared intently at the Awe-Inspiring Sword with shining eyes and asked, "Brother Chen, what sword is this?"

Chen Jianchen declared with a ringing voice, "The Awe-Inspiring Nurturing Sword! 'I am skilled at nurturing my vast, awe-inspiring righteous energy.' This weapon is forged precisely from that righteous energy!"

Righteous energy?

Xi Fangping’s eyes lit up as he listened. Though he was well-read in the classics of the sages and had heard legends of righteous energy, he had always regarded it as a vague and ethereal concept. Never did he expect to see it manifest so vividly right before his eyes, truly opening his horizons.

Chen Jianchen no longer bothered to conceal the fact that he harbored righteous energy, nor was there any need for deliberate pretense. He believed Xi Fangping possessed enough discretion not to blabber nonsense. In truth, even if word spread, it would cause him no loss whatsoever. After all, the carrier of righteous energy was sanctioned by the sages' books; who could possibly raise objections?

Holding the Awe-Inspiring Sword, Chen Jianchen took the lead. Not a single wandering ghost dared to challenge his vanguard; all of them gave him a wide berth, watching him depart with fearful eyes.

There were no further obstructions along the way. About half an hour later, they arrived at the summit of Pen Holder Mountain in the netherworld.

The peak bore some resemblance to mountain summits in the mortal world, both consisting of flat, open ground. The difference was that mortal pen-holder peaks were usually adorned with sightseeing pavilions, whereas here, not a single pavilion stood. Instead, right in the center, a massive palace-style complex rose proudly, featuring upturned eaves, corner towers, glazed green tiles, and crimson walls. It looked exceptionally magnificent, grand, and dripping with wealth.

In front of the great hall stood a gigantic bronze incense burner, with numerous sticks of incense thrust into it, curling wisps of blue smoke into the air.

The two massive hall doors were tightly shut, bearing a horizontal plaque with the inscription: The Mountain Deity Temple of Pen Holder Mountain!

Flanking the doors was a couplet: *The heavens and earth enact supreme authority; the mountain deity attains absolute prosperity!*

Arriving before the hall, Chen Jianchen looked around and discovered that almost all of those indistinct wandering ghosts had followed them up. They simply dared not approach, lingering far off to form a wide, distant circle. Because of their presence, the vast mountaintop clearing echoed with eerie wails and mournful cries, casting a gloomy, bone-chilling pall over the surroundings.

Chen Jianchen said, "Brother Xi, the time has come for you to demand justice. Do not be afraid; I will back you up with all my strength."

"Mn."

Shedding his previous fear entirely, Xi Fangping stepped forward with broad strides and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Mountain Deity of Pen Holder Mountain! The netherworld does not meddle in mortal affairs! You condoned a nether-runner's violence, which caused my father's death. I am here to demand an explanation from you and reclaim justice!"

The more he spoke, the more indignant he became. His voice grew ever more booming until, at the end, it was practically a roar.

"Return my justice... Return my justice..."

The mountaintop even produced echoes that lingered and reverberated in a dull hum.

With a creak, the heavy doors of the Mountain Deity Temple slowly swung open. Ten fully armored nether-runners rushed out, each grasping iron chains and weapons, and lined up on either side. Then, from the middle, a figure strolled out leisurely. It was impossible to determine his age; he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, with a face resembling the bright red buttocks of a monkey. At first glance, one could hardly make out his facial features at all, because his eyebrows and beard were a vibrant, fiery red—though whether dyed or naturally so remained a mystery.

He was dressed in a brilliant scarlet robe with coiled-serpent collars. On his chest and back were square embroidered patches, and upon his head he wore a cap with double wing-like flanges. This attire was the quintessential, textbook uniform of a mountain deity.

Earth deities, river deities, and mountain deities all belonged to the lower-tier officials of the netherworld. Yet even within the lower tiers, there were rankings: earth deities were the lowest, possessing the smallest jurisdiction, measured by rural villages. Next came river deities, followed by mountain deities. A mountain deity was not assigned to just any random mountain; rather, a specific region had to be designated before a deity was appointed. For instance, the Mountain Deity of Pen Holder Mountain governed half the mountain territory under the administration of Jiangzhou, wielding considerable authority.

Because of these differing ranks, the cultivation requirements for the officeholders also varied. Generally, someone at the Nether Spirit realm could serve as an earth deity, but to be a mountain deity required at least the Golden Core stage.

According to Ding Yin, the cultivation level of Hou Qing, the Mountain Deity of Pen Holder Mountain, was extremely obscure; it was known only to be above the Golden Core stage, though the specifics were unclear. In the past, whenever Ding Yin fought against Hou Qing, he would invariably be defeated within a few rounds, suffering quite a few underhanded losses. And Ding Yin himself was already at the Golden Core realm.

However, Chen Jianchen understood that even among those of the same realm, disparities in spells and magical treasures often led to vast discrepancies in combat capability.

Hou Qing’s cultivation was not shallow, but since Chen Jianchen had the backing of a sword formed from righteous energy, he felt no great terror.

Hou Qing stepped forward, his pupils flashing with a sharp, brilliant light that was likewise crimson, carrying a faint, intimidating power. Fixing his gaze on Xi Fangping, he shouted, "What person are you, acting so recklessly and rudely, daring to trespass into the nether territory?"

Stared down by that glare, Xi Fangping felt a sudden emptiness within his chest. His knees grew weak, and he instinctively wanted to drop to the ground and pay homage to the being before him.

"Brother Xi, remember why you came!"

Chen Jianchen’s voice rang out promptly, and at the same time, a powerful hand firmly gripped his left shoulder.

Courage surged anew in Xi Fangping’s heart, kindling his proud and unyielding backbone. Pointing a condemning finger with a furious glare, he cried out, "I am Xi Fangping of Dong'an Village! A nether-runner of yours, surnamed Yang, is petty and vindictive. Violating the laws of the netherworld over a grudge from the mortal realm, he harmed my father and brought about his untimely demise. I have come specifically to this place to demand justice from the Mountain Deity!"

Hou Qing swept a glance at him, then cast his gaze upon Chen Jianchen. Suddenly, he waved a hand and said indifferently, "Life and death are determined by fate, while wealth and honor depend upon heaven—what talk is there of such matters? Scholar Xi, do not allow yourself to be instigated and duped without even realizing it."

Hearing this, Chen Jianchen raised an eyebrow and let out a hearty laugh. "'Life and death are determined by fate, while wealth and honor depend upon heaven'? Heh, for the Mountain Deity Hou to speak such nonsense with a dishonest conscience, how can you possibly claim to be a deity?"

This remark was exceptionally sharp, striking directly at the crux of the matter. Even Hou Qing’s naturally Guan Yu-like crimson face darkened abruptly. His pupils narrowed like needles as he stared intently at Chen Jianchen.

Chen Jianchen showed not the slightest trace of shrinking, meeting his gaze with unperturbed calm. Instantly, the atmosphere grew tense.