Chapter 6: A Life for a Life

The Underworld, which used to be bustling and peaceful, had recently taken on the truly grim and lifeless appearance whispered of in the mortal realm, shrouded in dense ghostly fog and devoid of any vitality.

The Ghost Lord cradled the Lord of Hell as he returned to the Asura Palace. Unattended, the Asura Palace resembled a dead city. Because the barrier was incomplete, many wandering lone ghosts and evil spirits roamed the halls. Seeing this situation, the officials of the Underworld were clearly unable to care for anything beyond their own survival.

With a thought, the Ghost Lord summoned the Soul-Binding Rope to repair the barrier, and then sent the Soul-Suppressing Sword to drive away the stray ghosts. Meanwhile, he carried the Lord of Hell to the medicine pool within the Asura Palace—a pool he had originally constructed to heal his own wounds after battles.

In his early years, being fond of combat, he had participated in numerous campaigns. After every battle, while he felt exhilarated, he was plagued by his injuries, which ranged across every imaginable type. Knowing medicine, he was well aware that wounds could not be treated uniformly; different injuries required different care, making treatment exceptionally troublesome. After handling this a few times, he grew weary of it. Right then, a flash of inspiration struck him, and he thought: why not find a permanent solution and build a medicinal pool directly?

Such a pool needed to have the efficacy to treat any kind of wound. In his leisure time, the Ghost Lord spared no effort in studying these arts, and gradually, the medicine pool was established with remarkable effectiveness. Every single herb in the pool was unimaginably rare—life-saving elixirs that could not be bought with a fortune.

Though the herbs in the medicine pool were countless, the water itself remained crystal clear. The Ghost Lord detested impurity; whenever the pool became even slightly soiled, he would replace it with an entirely new one. Fortunately, given his immense accumulation over the years, replacing it a hundred times over posed absolutely no problem.

Carrying Yan Yunqing to the medicine pool, the Ghost Lord vividly sensed that the person in his arms was growing weaker by the moment. Too anxious to think further, he stepped straight into the pool with Yan Yunqing in his arms.

Blood instantly stained the entire pool crimson. Shivering, the Ghost Lord held Yan Yunqing tightly, panicking beyond control. How could this be? How was this possible? He had clearly checked him just moments ago—there were no external injuries. How could this have happened?

The Ghost Lord's pupils instantly turned the color of the water in the pool, and tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes. His eyelashes trembled violently as he shook the person in his arms fiercely. "Yunqing! Yan Yunqing! Wake up right now! You still have a child, you still have Nian'er! Yunqing! A'qing!..."

The person in his arms was like an empty shell, offering no reaction whatsoever to the Ghost Lord's words.

The Ghost Lord drew a deep breath and forced a strained smile. His hands trembled uncontrollably as he slowly reached out to stroke Yan Yunqing's face, feeling the gradually chilling temperature. Gazing tenderly at Yan Yunqing, he whispered softly, "Yunqing, I promise you, as long as you wake up, I will no longer pester you, alright?"

The Ghost Lord's breakdown was seen entirely by Yan Yunqing's already scattered soul. As if wishing to make the Ghost Lord give up, his transparent form drifted before the Ghost Lord, sighed, and parted his lips lightly. "It's useless. My seven mortal souls have scattered and my three spiritual souls have departed; no medicine can cure me. I am beyond saving. Take good care of..."

The Ghost Lord's lowered head suddenly snapped up. A paranoid, frenzied obsession gleamed in his dark red eyes, and he let out a low laugh. "Who says so? Do you truly think I cannot save you? Once I have set my sights on you, even in death, you will die after me!"

With a chilling expression, the Ghost Lord abruptly scooped up Yan Yunqing's body and strode toward his bedchamber. Yan Yunqing's scattered soul followed him in its ethereal state, plagued by a persistent bad omen. He reached out to grab the Ghost Lord, but after several attempts, it was all in vain. "What on earth are you trying to do!"

As if completely unable to hear him, the Ghost Lord kicked the door open, entered the room, and laid Yan Yunqing's body upon the bed. Ripping open Yan Yunqing's garments with one hand, he bit down hard on his own finger, forcing out a few drops of primordial blood to seal Yan Yunqing's heart meridian.

Yan Yunqing's scattered soul froze in place. After a moment, as if letting out a sigh, it murmured, "I am not worth such a sacrifice..." Even if you do this, I will never feel anything for you. As the Ghost Lord, can you truly not know?

A person born with the Ice-Cold Constitution is naturally devoid of the root of emotion...

The Ghost Lord still offered no reply, simply proceeding directly with what he had to do. Having sealed the heart meridian, the next step was soul-retrieval. Fortunately, Yunqing's soul had not drifted far. The Ghost Lord detached the Soul-Chasing Tassel from his waist and tossed it toward the spot where Yan Yunqing's scattered soul hovered in the air.

A flash of white light illuminated the room as the scattered soul was reeled into the Soul-Chasing Tassel. Using the soul-chasing artifact as a guide, the Ghost Lord guided the dispersed soul back to its rightful place. Yan Yunqing's body began to emit a faint layer of white light. Sitting at the bedside, the Ghost Lord leaned down and pressed his thin lips gently against Yan Yunqing's pale ones, devoid of any frivolous intent. With utmost piety, he slowly transferred the Soul-Fixing Pearl from within his own body via a kiss.

The snow-white garments had long been dyed crimson by the pool water, and his cascade of raven hair was turning white at a visible speed, creeping up slowly from the tips...

Having exhausted every ounce of his strength, the white-haired Ghost Lord leaned slowly against Yan Yunqing's body. Listening as Yan Yunqing's heartbeat gradually grew stronger, his taut nerves finally relaxed, and his eyelids drifted shut.

The chamber door, not fully latched, drifted open under a gentle gust of wind. Outside, a figure pressed her hands tightly over her mouth, staring at the two figures clinging to each other on the bed. A burning ache rose in her throat, and she fought with all her might to make not a single sound as she turned and fled. How could the Master have become like that? No, she had to find Black Servant immediately. Black Servant was closest to the Master and understood the most; he would surely know.

Mei ran with all her might toward the place where Black Servant resided. Finally locating him, she rushed forward with red-rimmed eyes and clutched tightly at his sleeves. "Brother Black, something's wrong! Something's terrible! I—I saw—"

Black Servant grabbed Mei's sleeves in return and patted her shoulder. "Don't panic, tell me slowly!"

Looking somewhat deranged, Mei shook her head. "The Master is dying! I saw the Master's hair turn completely white, and there was blood on his clothes..."

Hearing this, Black Servant immediately hurried toward the Ghost Lord's chamber.

Before long, the Ghost Lord's hair had reverted to its original color. With a casual wave of his hand, the soiled garments on both himself and Yan Yunqing became as good as new. Rising from Yan Yunqing's side, the Ghost Lord smiled as he looked down at him. From a short distance away, he reached out and slowly traced the contour of Yan Yunqing's face. The sensation was exceedingly strange; with just a few simple strokes, he had effortlessly outlined the person he found pleasing no matter how he looked at him.

Yan Yunqing's heartbeat was steady and his breathing normal, yet there was not the slightest sign of waking. Puzzled, the Ghost Lord wondered why, despite the soul having returned to its vessel and been anchored by the Soul-Fixing Pearl, Yan Yunqing still had not awakened.

His intuition told him he had missed some crucial detail. He stayed quietly by Yan Yunqing's side, his heart as calm as still water. It was a rare occasion indeed—staying by this person's side without causing him pressure or distress; a rare occasion when he could remain silently by his side without meeting resistance; a rare occasion when he could do whatever he wished to this person while the other was powerless to resist. Yet, he was willing to do nothing at all, so long as this person was willing to wake up.

The Ghost Lord recalled the past when he first met Yan Yunqing. It had all started because of a wager with that stubborn old deity. Yan Yunqing happened to be descending to the mortal realm to undergo tribulation; he had encountered Yunqing for two mortal lifetimes and pursued him for eight. Yet, in the end, it had all been in vain—like scooping water with a bamboo basket, leaving nothing behind in Yunqing's heart.

As the Lord of the Underworld, Yan Yunqing possessed a deep sense of responsibility, viewing the Underworld as his entirety. For the sake of the Underworld, he had endured an elderly, ill-tempered Sovereign who loved to tease him for so long. A bitter smile touched the Ghost Lord's lips as he pressed his forehead against Yan Yunqing's. *A'qing, won't you wake up and look at me? If you can wake up this time, I will no longer force you. Whatever you wish, I will obey you in all things...*

Flustered, Black Servant rushed toward the chamber door, only to be abruptly tackled from behind by Mei, creating a loud crash. The Ghost Lord rose calmly and looked toward the two of them.

Seeing that the Ghost Lord was unharmed, Black Servant sighed inwardly at the tactless Mei. He quickly hoisted her up by the collar, bowed to the Ghost Lord, and said, "This subordinate has intruded. Please forgive us, Master. We shall take our leave at once."

"Wait," the Ghost Lord said coldly. "Let this serve as a punishment for today. Your penchant for playfulness and stalled cultivation are what brought about today's disaster. As of today, accompany Chi to cultivate in the abyss."

Black Servant bowed deeply, answered with a single "Understood," and dragged Mei away, closing the door behind them. After walking a considerable distance, he finally set her down and sighed helplessly, "I really shouldn't have listened to you."

Shock painted across her face, Mei immediately grew agitated and stammered incoherently, "No, I really saw it! I truly did!"

Black Servant cast a meaningful glance at Mei and offered a parting admonition, "Mei, as subordinates, the most fundamental rule we must follow is never to overstep our bounds. Whatever the Master wants us to know, we know; whatever he does not, we remain entirely oblivious to. Best you look after yourself!"

As Black Servant walked off into the distance, the flush on Mei's face gradually faded as she calmed down. She remained certain she had not been mistaken—at that moment, the Master's life had indeed been hanging by a thread. How had he suddenly recovered? If anything were to happen to the Master, what would become of them? Continue wandering, making everywhere their home, following their eldest brother on bloody rampages? Having lived a peaceful life for so long, she no longer wished to return to the past. No, she had to investigate, find the cause, and help the Master.

Having dismissed the two meddlesome subordinates, the Ghost Lord covered his mouth and coughed lightly. A thought suddenly occurred to him: the Book of Life and Death, an artifact he had entrusted to Yan Yunqing's lineage back when he handed over the Underworld.

The Book of Life and Death recorded the entire lives of beings across the five realms, from birth to death, with terrifying detail.

While the lifespans of mortals in the mortal realm could be altered, those of beings in the other four realms were exempt; their existence was merely recorded within its pages, untouched by the dictates of the book.

Recalling the Book of Life and Death, a horrifying hypothesis struck the Ghost Lord regarding Yan Yunqing's continued slumber. The reason he had not yet awakened was likely because his fate-matrix had been entirely exhausted when he was injured.

The so-called fate-matrix was the proof of a being's existence in this world. Mortals' fate-matrices were typically managed by the Underworld, whereas those of beings in the other four realms elevated themselves through merit and cultivation.

Perhaps the weapon that injured Yunqing was far too sinister and toxic... That was it! He suddenly remembered the Blood-Wailing Flute—only such an utmost yin and malevolent artifact could inflict injuries of this magnitude upon Yunqing. The Blood-Wailing Flute was a forbidden treasure of the Demon Realm.

Ever since the founding of the Demon Realm, the Blood-Wailing Flute had continuously absorbed the grievances of demon-kind. Over tens of thousands of years, the resentment absorbed by the flute was beyond quantification. To be injured by that grievance and have one's fate-matrix completely depleted was entirely natural.

Since the problem lay within the fate-matrix, he naturally had a solution. Having lived in this world for so long, his own fate-matrix was countless. He could transfer a portion of his fate-matrix to Yan Yunqing; if he did so, Yan Yunqing would undoubtedly wake up.

The so-called transfer of a fate-matrix meant passing one's own destiny to another, a process that required borrowing the power of the Book of Life and Death.

The Book of Life and Death was kept by him in the Underworld. After thousands and tens of thousands of years of waiting, it appeared that the book was now guarded by an organization known as the "Elder Council." The Elder Council was heavily guarded, riddled with barriers and restrictions, and the Book of Life and Death was stored within one of its forbidden towers.

Given his current physical condition, the Ghost Lord felt a bitter helplessness. He could think of no way to retrieve it without alarming the rest of the Underworld and escaping unscathed. Since no such method came to mind, he simply stopped thinking about it. He would simply go and take it by force.

Gazing at Yan Yunqing, who lay as though fast asleep, the Ghost Lord murmured softly, "There is always a way."

No matter what, he had to make Yan Yunqing wake up. Otherwise, what difference would his own lingering existence in this world have from that of a corpse?