43 Crossing the Gate of Hell

Fengdu Ghost City, the famed “Nether Capital” of the mortal world.

In ancient legends, this was the place where spirits returned after death, brimming with the densest yin energy. On the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month, when the Gates of Hell opened, ghosts would flood the streets in chaos. But in truth: there were no real ghosts here, yet tourists abounded.

Luo Yu and Qin Yue wandered through the ghost city before taking a car to a rural area of Fengdu known as “Dudu.” There, they stopped.

According to the jade book they had purchased, the entrance to the Nine Nether Underworld was here.

There was a legend in Dudu village: deep in the nearby mountains lay a cave with a sandy bottom and a lake. People had found monster footprints and horned bones on the sand, and sometimes at midnight, the roars of beasts echoed from within, enough to make one shudder at the mere mention.

Luo Yu and Qin Yue, undaunted, headed straight for the place described.

When they arrived at the legendary “cave,” what unfolded before them was a gigantic sinkhole, two hundred meters in diameter, unfathomably deep, its depths churning with thick white mist. Several hikers lingered nearby, some peering over the edge, others snapping photos with their cameras.

Since there were others around, the pair couldn’t simply leap down, so they blended in, striking up small talk with the onlookers. The hikers said there were many such sinkholes, especially along the border between Fengdu and Wulong, but this was among the largest—and the only one that billowed with white mist, making it especially eerie. It had only been discovered in the past two years, drawing many visitors.

Fortunately, after lingering for a while, the group left by midday without venturing down. Luo Yu and Qin Yue checked their surroundings, ensured no one was watching, then invoked the “Wind Riding Technique” and leapt in together.

They floated gently to the bottom. Looking up, they estimated the pit to be at least five hundred meters deep. Below their feet was a sloping ground, beside an underground river, and a large cave whose end was shrouded in mystery. They extended their spiritual senses and detected a vast space beneath, so with a leap, they descended further into the darkness.

A few jumps later, their feet landed on a stretch of sand. Their eyes gradually adjusted to the gloom, and what was once darkness now became clear—though not as bright as daylight, it was as visible as a heavily overcast day.

Before them stretched a lake, its water clear and still, untainted by any impurity. At the far end of the lake were numerous caverns, with jagged stones forming a maze. Most of these caves were half-submerged, resembling watery channels for boats.

Qin Yue surveyed the scene, took Luo Yu’s hand, and together they invoked the “Water Walking Technique,” gliding across the rippling surface toward the caverns.

At the entrance to a vast cavern, they extended their spiritual senses to map out the maze. Their senses, now rivaling those of a Foundation Establishment cultivator, could scan an entire small city. Many caves were dead ends, but some connected in all directions. The two picked their way forward, probing as they went. Twisting and turning, they eventually looked up to find another small sinkhole overhead—clearly, these pits were all connected below the surface.

They pressed on, and the terrain grew steadily lower, the water no longer calm but forming swift underground rivers. The frequency of caverns diminished, and soon they all converged into a single, towering chamber, its ceiling lost in shadow. The pair followed the river, moving swiftly for what felt like hours, until they sensed the faint stirrings of yin energy.

Delighted, they quickened their pace. The yin energy thickened as they advanced, soon rivaling the intensity found in the third courtyard of the old Luo family estate. After another hour, they emerged from the cave.

A vast gray swamp spread out before them, blanketed in vegetation. There was no light here, and the plants required none—they thrived on nutrients from the earth, water, and the pervasive yin energy, forming an ecosystem entirely unlike anything in the mortal world. Luo Yu examined the plants closely and realized they weren’t gray at all, but completely transparent—only the “sky” above was a haze of condensed yin energy, casting everything in a ghostly pallor.

He picked up some soil and rubbed it between his fingers; it felt no different than that of the living world. He wondered, though, what long-term exposure to such yin energy might do.

Behind them, the river that had carried them in poured directly into the swamp and vanished.

Surveying the land, they saw that the swamp was not vast—just over a dozen square kilometers—ringed by mountains on all sides except for the peak from which they had emerged, which vanished into the endless fog. They decided to head toward the distant mountains.

Along the way, they encountered bizarre plants, some faintly colored, though still transparent. Luo Yu collected samples of each to study later, hoping to find something useful to bring back.

At the swamp’s edge, the waters gathered again into a river. But this river was different—its waters were a transparent black, as if it had picked up something new in its cycle through the swamp. Luo Yu filled a bottle with the water to take with him.

He asked Qin Yue, “So the underworld really is underground. Does that mean the Celestial Palace is truly up in the heavens?”

Qin Yue nodded. “Indeed. In ancient times, mighty cultivators built grand palaces in the sky, and they should still be there today. When we’re strong enough, shall we go see for ourselves?”

Luo Yu was ecstatic. “Absolutely!”

At the foot of the mountain, the river had widened into a broad, tranquil expanse, flowing through a mountain pass into the distance. Guarding the pass was a colossal, triple-tiered archway, as tall as half the mountain itself, straddling the river: four massive black stone pillars supported eaved roofs, and atop the archway, a ferocious demon’s face was carved, its gaping maw biting down on a plaque inlaid with a dense mosaic of human skulls. Upon it, three chilling characters spelled out “Gate of the Dead.”

Luo Yu gazed at the spectacle in awe. “I’m still alive! Yet here I stand, before the Gate of the Dead!”

Qin Yue smiled softly and pulled him along, skimming over the water toward the archway.

As they drew near, they saw a small dock beneath the arch, where seven or eight little boats were moored. A few silhouettes gathered on the shore, seemingly engrossed in a card game.

One of them noticed the newcomers, nudged another, and got up to await them.

As Luo Yu crossed over, he sensed something odd about the water—it seemed to sap his strength, dragging him down as if it drained his spiritual power.

On shore, the waiting figure approached, hesitantly asking, “Are you two not the Lords of Impermanence?”

Luo Yu studied the “man”: he exuded pure yin energy, with no warmth at all, yet looked perfectly human. He was likely an ordinary ghost whose form had solidified from long exposure to yin energy. Here in the underworld, he appeared quite normal, but in the living world, he’d be nothing but a shadow—no physical form, translucent and unable to cast a shadow on the ground, like a hologram. Ordinary humans could neither see nor hear such ghosts; only once they had advanced, becoming true ghost cultivators, could they interact with the living.

Luo Yu was absorbed in his observations and didn’t reply, so Qin Yue answered, “We are cultivators, not Lords of Impermanence.”

Another ghost, overhearing this, hurried over and shoved the first aside, beaming broadly. “So you’re immortals from the upper realm! My name is Boat Third. I’m the most reliable ferryman on the River of Three Crossings. May I ask if you’re here on official business, or just touring the underworld?”

Luo Yu said, “We wish to visit Nine Yin Mountain. Do you know the way?”

Boat Third hesitated. “You want to visit Nine Yin Mountain?” But he quickly recovered, fawning, “Surely you two are mighty immortals! Nine Yin Mountain is notorious, I’ve never been there myself, but I know the direction… Still, there are many scenic spots in the underworld far more pleasant than that forsaken place. You’d be better off visiting the City of Unjust Death.”

Qin Yue replied, “Wherever we wish to go, you need only lead the way.”

Boat Third nodded vigorously. “Forgive my loose tongue. Will you be traveling there and back immediately, or staying a while?”

Qin Yue answered, “We’ll be staying on the mountain for some time. Just take us there, and come back to fetch us afterward.”

Boat Third said, “Well then, for a round trip… the fare… heh, forgive me, I have to earn a living. I hope you immortals won’t take offense.”

Qin Yue nodded. “Of course you’ll be compensated. If you do a good job, you’ll be well rewarded.”

Boat Third explained, “When ferrying new ghosts with the Lords of Impermanence, the fare is three Nether Stones. But Nine Yin Mountain is far, so a round trip will cost twenty Nether Stones. I’d never dare charge you more.”

Qin Yue frowned. “Nether Stones?”

Luo Yu asked awkwardly, “Can we pay with spirit stones?”

Boat Third smiled obsequiously. “Some immortals have tried to pay with spirit stones… but those are useless down here. If you have anything else of value in the underworld, I can accept that as fare.”

Luo Yu and Qin Yue exchanged glances, racking their brains for something suitable, but drew a blank. Finally, Qin Yue produced the “Heaven Burner” artifact. “This is a cultivator’s tool. Ghost cultivators can use it as well. It ought to be worth some Nether Stones. What do you think?”

Boat Third’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, Immortal! That’s more than enough! I’ll take you there right away, and when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you at Nine Yin Mountain.” With that, he joyfully went to prepare the boat. The other ghosts looked on with envy: an artifact like that could fetch a thousand Nether Stones in town! Boat Third really knew how to seize an opportunity. Next time an immortal comes, I’ll be the first to jump up!

Luo Yu and Qin Yue boarded the boat. Boat Third pushed off with a long pole of ghostly bamboo, and the little vessel shot forward like an arrow.

As they sailed through the misty world, Luo Yu asked, “Earlier, when we crossed the river, I felt the water dragging me down. Do you know why?”

Boat Third laughed as he poled the boat. “The River of Three Crossings has always been this way. Only boats made from ‘floating heart wood’ can stay afloat—anything else sinks. This stretch is easy, but if you ever go to the River of Forgetfulness, never step into the water. There, neither ghosts nor immortals can float. If you fall in, you’ll never climb out.”

Not far ahead, the river bent, revealing endless shoals on both banks, blanketed with brilliant red flowers that blazed like blood against the gray world, an overwhelming beauty that seared the soul.

“Red Spider Lilies!” Luo Yu cried out. “They really do grow here!”

Qin Yue stepped beside him and sighed. “No wonder the path is called the ‘Road of Fiery Illumination.’”

Boat Third boasted, “This is our underworld’s most famous sight. The fragrance can call souls. They say if you hide one of these flowers on your person when you drink Lady Meng’s soup, you’ll remember your past life in the next.”

Luo Yu asked, “Do spirits really retain memories when they reincarnate?”

Boat Third replied, “It happens. The old ghosts say it used to be common, but in the past hundred years, all souls are searched before reincarnation, so it’s stopped.”

Luo Yu found the mechanics of reincarnation fascinatingly unscientific and resolved to study it firsthand someday.

Boat Third, seeing Luo Yu’s interest, continued, “There are flowers on the other side of the River of Forgetfulness too, but those are white. Their scent makes souls forget everything, and Lady Meng’s soup is brewed from them and the river’s water.”

Luo Yu thought the flowers probably affected the mind, but not in any truly miraculous way. He looked down at the river and noticed that within the transparent black water, ghostly faces drifted, distorting with the current, floating like jellyfish—a beautiful, eerie sight.

Startled, Luo Yu asked, “What are those in the water?!”

Boat Third chuckled. “Those are lost souls collected from the mortal world. They have no consciousness, so the underworld dumps them here rather than let them wander. After a few years, they dissolve.”

They cruised past the stunning scenery, soon leaving the River of Three Crossings before reaching the River of Forgetfulness, and turned into a side channel. The endless red spider lilies vanished from view. Luo Yu wanted to take some pictures, but when he turned on his phone, the screen was pitch black—he’d forgotten that there was no light here.

For three days, they traveled upriver through a lush, shadowy gorge, finally reaching the edge of Nine Yin Mountain. The landscape was barren and bleak, battered by chilling winds, the few trees twisted like bleached bones. Boat Third could barely stand the cold, claiming that the wind here cut like a flensing knife. He apologized and retreated to the gorge to wait for them. Luo Yu gave him a communication talisman, telling him to burn it if he needed help, and they’d return at once. Boat Third thanked him and quickly withdrew.

Luo Yu and Qin Yue disembarked, found a sheltered nook, and slept together through the night. It was bone-chillingly cold—Luo Yu burrowed into Qin Yue’s arms in his sleep. Since they’d grown used to sharing a bed, their wealthy friend had even ordered a dozen custom double sleeping bags, so Luo Yu always had a perfectly warm pillow for life.

The next morning, they woke up, checked their phones until their eyes ached from the glare, and realized it was about seven o’clock. After packing up, they prepared to explore Nine Yin Mountain.

As soon as they entered the mountains, the desolation was palpable: black gravel and dead branches everywhere, the sky tinged green, the wind howling, not a large creature in sight—only grotesque scorpions skittering through the bones.

Luo Yu accidentally stepped on a centipede, splitting it in two with a squelch that sprayed green goo all over his shoe. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Vampires would love this stuff—absolutely revolting!”

Without a word, Qin Yue grabbed his foot and wiped it clean in the mud, scrubbing until she was sure it wasn’t corrosive before letting go.

Luo Yu balanced on her shoulder, grinning foolishly. “You’re just like my mom.”

Qin Yue shot him a glare. “Idiot. Ten layers into Qi Refining and you still step on landmines.” After scolding him, she took his hand and led him onward.

As they ventured deeper, the environment grew harsher still. The yin energy thickened, coalescing into a thin mist that lowered visibility.

Luo Yu looked around skeptically. “Can spirit herbs really grow in a place like this? Did your uncle get it wrong?”

[End of Chapter]