Chapter Six: An Accidental Rescue of the Celestial Fox

In the heavens and the underworld, a single day passes, yet three years slip by in the mortal realm in the blink of an eye.

Within the Hall of Yama in the underworld, the current King of Hell regarded his son, Yan Yunqing, and asked, “Are you ready?”

With a blank expression, Yan Yunqing bowed slightly and replied, “Reporting to Father, everything has been arranged. You need not worry.” His tone was strictly businesslike, which drew a silent sigh from the King.

Yunqing was perhaps the most suitable heir to the throne of Yama in generations. The King himself was born heartless, ignorant of emotion, destined to disappoint any who cared for him. Yet Yunqing possessed a rare, millennia-in-a-lifetime Iceborn constitution. While this made him an unparalleled master of the underworld’s arts, when it came to matters of the heart, Yunqing would likely remain untouched for all his days.

A heartless King of Hell still retained the root of emotion, so falling in love was not impossible—though it would defy the natural order and bring immense peril. But for one with the Iceborn body, there was no root of emotion at all.

The underworld oversaw the living and the dead among mortals, as well as the fate of all four realms. Even those who belonged beyond the Five Realms had their life and death recorded here.

There was an ancestral law: before ascending the throne, every King of Hell must be reborn and endure trials in the mortal world. To call it a "trial" was an understatement; it was a tribulation.

Ten lifetimes must be endured, tasting every flavor of human sorrow and joy, greed, anger, obsession, and resentment, before returning to assume the throne.

The King had hoped to delay for a few more years, waiting for the perfect moment before passing the mantle to Yunqing. But fate is unpredictable. In the end, he learned the truth—now he was missing, his whereabouts unknown. In his anxious desperation, this was his only recourse. After so many years together, inseparable, he could not bear to part.

He sighed helplessly in his heart. Awaken the root of emotion—such a perilous undertaking. Perhaps it was for the best that he was gone for now; once it was done, he could seek forgiveness. If he failed… well, that one would surely weep again. So, he must not fail.

An empty ache gnawed at the left side of the King’s chest. “While my son endures his tribulations, it shall be announced that he is in seclusion. All affairs will be handled by the Ghost Lantern. Go now, take your leave.”

A flicker of confusion crossed Yunqing’s eyes, but he did not question it. “Yes, your son takes his leave,” he replied, and departed the Hall of Yama.

In the mortal world, winter snow fell gently.

The Ghost Lord, wrapped in a black fur coat, strolled idly through the streets. Behind him, the Black Attendant held an umbrella, following with a look of helpless resignation. After a while, he asked, “My lord, what brings you to wander among mortals today?”

The Ghost Lord did not turn his head. “Just a whim, nothing more.”

Snow fell ceaselessly along the street, yet the marketplace was as bustling as ever. Merchants hawked their wares, children’s laughter rang out, and the throng was lively and dense. Having not visited the mortal world in a long time, the Ghost Lord found everything novel and curious.

Not far ahead, a crowd had formed a large circle. In the blink of an eye, the Ghost Lord slipped inside; the Black Attendant followed in silence.

Inside, human performers displayed their acrobatics on one side, while animals performed on the other. Most were drawn to the animals. As soon as the Ghost Lord entered, a monkey deftly leapt through a ring of fire, then juggled a ball in the air, prompting a round of applause from the crowd. A young boy darted around with a tray, collecting coins—enough to support the performers for some time.

Yet what truly caught the Ghost Lord’s attention was not the human tricks, but a small fox, caged and whimpering in a corner. Its fur was so filthy its color could not be discerned, and bloodstains—some old, some new—marred its body. Its eyes, clear as glass, had not left the Ghost Lord since his arrival. He noticed its mouth seemed to move, and in his mind, a child’s soft, pleading voice echoed, “Sir, save me…”

The Ghost Lord’s gaze darkened. What a perceptive little fox, he thought.

The Black Attendant, following his master’s gaze, exclaimed, “Isn’t that… isn’t that a Celestial Fox? How did it end up here?”

The Ghost Lord shot a sidelong glance at his bumbling servant. “It simply got into mischief, nothing more.” What else could have happened? The Celestial Fox clan was strictest of all with their young—there was no way one would be lost unless it had snuck out to play. The mortal world was perilous; surely this lesson would not be forgotten.

A cold wind swept through the crowd. No one noticed that two people and a fox had vanished from the gathering.

The Ghost Lord carried the little fox back to the Asura Hall, piquing the curiosity of all the demons there. One of them, Chi, couldn’t help but ask, “My lord, this fox?”

The Ghost Lord, still gripping the fox, went straight to the Healing Spring and tossed it in. The onlookers were startled as the little fox immediately sank below the surface, unmoving. Fortunately, after a short while, it reappeared, coughing and sputtering, shaking the filth from its fur as the water in the spring darkened.

The Ghost Lord frowned. Though the spring would soon purify itself, the sight was unpleasant. “It’s just a Celestial Fox cub I picked up along the way. Once its wounds heal, send it home.”

With his orders given, the Ghost Lord left alone.

Soaking in the medicine spring, the little fox let out a few contented hums, its face basking in comfort. Once it was clean, the Black Attendant discovered that all the blood on its fur belonged to other creatures.

This Celestial Fox cub was indeed clever. As the fox began to doze off again, the Black Attendant hurriedly picked it up, intending to roughly towel it dry, but was stopped by Mei. “At least show some care—it’s a royal cub, see the peach blossom mark on its brow? If you handle it like that, it may end up in the underworld for good. Let me do it.”

Mei took the cloth, gently cradling the fox and drying its fur with a touch of spiritual power. “That will do. Once it wakes and we’re sure it’s unharmed, we’ll send it back to the Celestial Fox clan.”

Chi, Wang, and the Black Attendant all agreed—when it came to caring for children, it was best left to a gentle girl like Mei.

The Underworld.

The Ghost Lord appeared silently in the Hall of Yama. The King of Hell started in surprise, quickly stepping forward. “My lord.”

The Ghost Lord gave him a sidelong glance, then settled into the central seat, speaking with casual indifference, “I hear you intend to challenge the Red Star of Fate…”

It was said that when the Red Star stirred, those in the same plight as the former Kings of Hell would go to awaken the root of emotion there.

Once the Red Star trial began, there were only two outcomes: death, or success. The risks were perilous, with failure far more common than triumph.

The King of Hell replied without hesitation, “Yes.”

The Ghost Lord snorted. “Is love truly so important that you would risk your very life?”

The King of Hell smiled. “It is not that love itself is so precious, but that he is worth more to me than life itself.”

The Ghost Lord was momentarily stunned. “You’re exactly like your ancestors—never letting anyone have peace.” With a sigh, he threw over a brocade box containing the prepared Nine Nether Pill. “Take this. It may just save your life at the final hurdle.”

“What a troublesome thing you are!” The Ghost Lord’s figure faded, but his words still echoed in the King’s ears.

The King of Hell held the brocade box for a long time, then smiled silently to himself. That old ghost was as contrary as ever, even after ten thousand years.