That night the moon was bright and the wind was still. Peaceful moonlight poured over Huoshan, poured over Xingtang Temple. That moonlight seemed to still even the perpetually howling mountain wind, even to crystallize the very air.

Throughout the vast Xingtang Temple, only the insects and ants in the trees along the walls were alive — in places beyond human hearing, making their own small world. Occasionally the measured footsteps of the Imperial Guard patrols rang out, the bright tinkling of armor plates drifting away into the distance.

That night, all factions furled their flags and fell silent, holding their breath, waiting for the final moment to arrive.

That night, the most anxious people in the world were Wei Zheng and Yuchi Jingde. Wei Zheng wore his court robes, holding a long sword, standing personally at the corridor outside the Ten-Directions Platform, gazing at the still moonlight with deep unease. This Ten-Directions Platform was the quarters Wei Zheng himself had selected for Li Shimin — the name was auspicious, implying that the ten directions of the boundless world were all under the Emperor’s control. More importantly, he had been attracted by the terrain of the Ten-Directions Platform: four meditation courtyards surrounding it on all sides, with a raised terrace at the center. The four senior ministers — Pei Ji, Wei Zheng, Du Ruhui, and Yuchi Jingde — were arrayed around it, and every movement in the Emperor’s chambers was visible to all of them. A hundred paces away was a small hillock that served as the high ground; Yuchi Jingde had stationed three hundred elite soldiers there, with six field crossbows mounted on top — heavy crossbows with a three-hundred-pace range that could cover everything within the line of sight.

“My enemy’s plan is thorough. Have I missed anything?” Wei Zheng knitted his brows in concentrated thought.

Just then, from a distance came the clashing of armor plates. Yuchi Jingde, in full battle gear with his steel mace in hand, came striding rapidly over.

“Lord Wei — all the Imperial Guards are in position. Following your instructions: loose on the outside, tight on the inside — six relief patrol groups per half-period.” Yuchi Jingde said in a low voice, glancing at the bedchamber of the Ten-Directions Platform. The lamp had gone out; the Emperor had presumably retired, though whether he could sleep was another matter.

“I am still uneasy!” Wei Zheng murmured. “The enemy has planned for so many years; having openly told us they would act tonight, they must have complete confidence! This strategist-monk is extraordinarily difficult to deal with. If we can’t see through the essential mechanism of what he’s arranged, we may well suffer a serious setback.”

Yuchi Jingde was also deeply on edge, standing shoulder to shoulder with Wei Zheng and gripping his mace, saying quietly, “My mind is not as sharp as yours, Lord Wei. You say what needs to be done, and I’ll do it. Even at the cost of my life, I absolutely will not allow a single hair on His Majesty’s head to be harmed.”

“Are the eunuchs in the bedchamber all replaced by Imperial Guards?” Wei Zheng asked.

“Done — six in all, personally selected by His Majesty. They are men who have followed him since Taiyuan, their skills superb and their loyalty unquestioned.” Yuchi Jingde replied. “Also, Du Chuke has sent word: the Huoyi city defenses are under control. He has drawn three thousand men from the Taiyuan Military Garrison and fifteen hundred from the Jinzhou Military Garrison — in all, four thousand five hundred men are now in ambush between Huoshan and Huoyi.”

The requisitioning of military garrison forces was an order Yuchi Jingde had obtained from the Emperor several days earlier. He believed the other side might very well launch a military rebellion and that a large force must be pre-positioned to suppress it quickly. Wei Zheng had not agreed with this assessment but felt it was still better to be prepared. Along the Huoshan line alone, combining garrison forces with the Imperial Guards, there were now over ten thousand men — more than enough to suppress a small-scale rebellion.

“No… something’s not right…” The more he thought about it in these terms, the more uneasy Wei Zheng became. What manner of figure was the strategist-monk Fa Ya? An old and cunning man perfected by experience. Would he be stupid enough to launch a military rebellion? Even if he dared, Pei Ji wouldn’t dare! The Tang had swept clean all the rebel kings of the realm, and half of that was Li Shimin’s own accomplishment. Even if Pei Ji had military authority in his hands, he would not dare to go to war with Li Shimin! The other side’s scheme this time could absolutely not be a military rebellion — so what was it? Assassination…

“Lord Wei,” Yuchi Jingde’s mind suddenly stirred. “Have you searched the Ten-Directions Platform? Might there be hidden tunnels inside or something of the kind?”

“I searched it carefully before His Majesty moved in. And moreover —” Wei Zheng quickly shook his head. “When I selected the Ten-Directions Platform, it was precisely because this meditation hall is built on a single massive boulder. Look at the base of the hall — it is entirely smooth and rounded, one solid piece of rock. To chisel a tunnel through that kind of rock…” He shook his head. “Surely beyond human capability.”

Both men fell into a deep frustration. The other side’s trump card — what was it? Since it was impossible to figure out, there was nothing left but to respond as the situation developed and wait for them to make their move. After further discussion, they decided simply to keep vigil all night at Li Shimin’s door. They would not believe the strategist-monk could pull yet another trick past them!

That night, even with Wei Zheng and Yuchi Jingde standing guard outside, Li Shimin’s sleep was fitful. An unspeakable dread crept and whispered in the shadows. From the great enterprise launched in the thirteenth year of Daye to the present — thirteen years — he had faced countless terrible situations without a hint of fear. The sword in his hand had taken more lives than he could count, yet he had never felt afraid. But tonight, he was genuinely afraid.

An emperor with dominion over all under heaven fears nothing because the whole world is in his grip. The powerful men of the Sui’s collapse — Wang Shichong, Dou Jiande, Xue Ju — each a hero of one quarter of the realm — had all been brought low beneath his hand. Xieli Khan of the Eastern Turks dominated the steppe; every powerful force submitted to become his wings — and yet Li Shimin had stood at Wei River Bridge to parley beneath the watch of hundreds of thousands of Turkish troops, and by sheer force of presence had held Xieli to the point where he dared not gaze south. In fighting men, Li Shimin had never known a moment’s weakness or cowardice. But now this emperor faced what he could not control: the courts of the shadowy underworld! And his accusers were the full brothers he had killed with his own hands.

Though the saying goes that imperial households harbor the least human feeling — in Taiyuan, when he was still young, his eldest brother had been kind and caring toward him. Though in the end they had come to irreconcilable enmity, there had once been a time when they were mother-sons together, brothers who cherished each other. After the Xuanwu Gate coup, not a single person in the world dared utter the names Jiancheng and Yuanji in his presence. Li Shimin himself often deliberately chose to forget. He had killed off all the descendants of Jiancheng and Yuanji, revised the genealogical records, and planned eventually to alter this passage in the histories — but he knew: even if he caused all the world to forget this chapter of history, it would be inscribed forever in his own heart.

And now the full brothers he had killed with his own hands were bringing him to lawsuit in a place beyond his power to control — and he would have no choice but to appear before them and answer the charges!

The bedchamber was eerily quiet. He could even hear the long, slow breathing of the six Imperial Guard attendants keeping watch at the door. Li Shimin tossed and turned, his mind in a daze, countless thoughts sweeping past. Then his nose caught a faint sweet fragrance. Instantly his tightly coiled nerves completely unwound, and he sank into deep sleep.

“Great Tang Son of Heaven… Great Tang Son of Heaven…” Suddenly voices were calling in his ear. The address was deeply strange. Li Shimin was puzzled, then felt a chill on his body. He opened his eyes — and gave a start.

He was not lying on the bed.

Before him was a mass of cold darkness. He was standing on the ground; wind passed his ears with a dry whispering sound. He crouched down, felt the ground — and broke out in a cold sweat. Beneath his hands was unbroken wild grass.

“Where is this?” Li Shimin murmured.

It appeared to be open wilderness — thick, dense grass; no moon in the sky; a pitch dark, almost total blindness. How was this possible? He had clearly been asleep on the platform inside the Ten-Directions Platform. How had he come to be out in the wilds?

Something was wrong. He remembered clearly: today was the fifteenth day of the fourth month. The full moon of the fifteenth shines over every inch of the world — yet here, the sky above held not a glimmer of light. Where had the moon gone?

Within Li Shimin’s heart swelled wave after wave of boundless dread.

“Great Tang Son of Heaven…” The voice came again from a distance.

Li Shimin raised his head and looked. Far off, two dark glowing orbs flickered — infinitely conspicuous in this lightless world. He dared not respond. Feeling around, he found a half-man-high mound of earth, quickly pressed his body behind it, and peered out from cover. As he did, he felt his own person — and discovered he had no protective weapon at all. More astonishing still, he was actually dressed in formal court robes, with a tall ceremonial cap on his head.

These were the court robes established by Li Yuan in the Wude era. On ordinary days he rarely wore them, but this inspection of Hedong — which served as a kind of home visit, with ancestral rites to be offered at the Northern Capital — had brought along a set of formal court robes. But how had he come to be wearing them now?

These thoughts flashed and were gone. Li Shimin put them aside and fixed his attention on the two distant lights. They were deeply strange — like someone carrying lanterns, yet these lanterns seemed to change form freely, flames shifting and reforming. As they drew nearer, Li Shimin suddenly felt his scalp prickling. He could now see clearly the shapes behind the light: they were unmistakably identical to the spirit soldiers who had appeared at Taiping Pass!

And those two glowing lights were neither torches nor lanterns — they were clusters of tiny flickering flames. Those small flames seemed to possess a life of their own, constantly changing shape as the two walked, always illuminating the path ahead of them.

“Great Tang Son of Heaven —” the two spirit soldiers had excellent eyes; the thick darkness seemed to have no effect on them whatsoever, and from far off they spotted Li Shimin crouching behind the mound. One of them immediately called out with a laugh, “Truly you made us search — but well done, Your Majesty has arrived on time for your appointment. Let us be on our way!”

“What do you mean?” Since he had been spotted, Li Shimin no longer hid; he leapt up and cried out, “On time for my appointment? You’re saying… this place is actually… the underworld?”

His heart was seized with boundless terror; even his voice trembled.

“Of course it is the underworld.” The spirit soldier seemed genuinely puzzled. “You are to appear before the Yan Mouluo — where else would you go but the underworld? Your Majesty, please don’t stray — the underworld is full of dangers. This is the Wild of Demon Refinement, where escaped evil spirits that have slipped out of Ni Li Purgatory sometimes hide to cultivate themselves into demons. Though the Yan Mouluo has sent spirit soldiers to track them down, some have slipped the net.”

Li Shimin broke out in a cold sweat, murmuring, “I have truly entered the underworld, truly entered the underworld…”

The spirit soldier smiled. “Your Majesty — this is not the underworld itself. The Eighteen Purgatory Hells are on the far side of Yinshan Mountain. This here is the boundary between yin and yang — the crossing point between the world of the living and the realm of the dead.”

Li Shimin’s heart grew even more panicked. “I will not go — I will not go. I am still alive and well — I have not yet passed away. Why have I come to this underworld realm? I want to go back. I still have Great Tang to lead, great martial achievements to forge, a glorious age to create — how can I die!”

He turned to walk away. The two spirit soldiers made no move to stop him, only saying mildly, “Your Majesty — the underworld has no roads. Where will you go back by?”

Li Shimin froze. Indeed — how was he to return? In this darkness, these eerie winds — he had woken here with no idea where he was. From where could he go back?

“Your Majesty would do well to simply follow the two of us.” The spirit soldier advised. “Before we departed, Judge Cui specifically instructed us that we must not use force upon Your Majesty; otherwise we would simply have taken your soul directly, and you would have had no choice but to come.”

At the sound of “Cui Jue,” Li Shimin grasped at it like a lifeline. He called out repeatedly, “Right, right — Cui Jue was my former subject, now the Judge of the Underworld. Where is he? I want to see him!”

The spirit soldier said, “We two received direct orders from the Yan Mouluo to invite Your Majesty here for the charges to be answered. When we departed, Judge Cui had gone to see our King. In truth Your Majesty need not be so alarmed — entering the underworld does not necessarily mean death. Whether you can return to the living world, and how much of your allotted life remains — all is recorded in the Book of Life and Death. So long as it is consulted and your years are not yet exhausted, the Yan Mouluo will naturally see you safely back to the living world.”

Li Shimin’s heart eased slightly. He asked, “If my years are not yet exhausted, why have I been brought here to the underworld?”

“Did we not explain to you several days ago? There is a lawsuit in the underworld awaiting your response. That is why the Yan Mouluo has invited you here.” The spirit soldier replied.

At the mention of the lawsuit, Li Shimin’s mind grew even more troubled and vexed — but he was helpless. Though he was the Emperor, this was not his territory. Even these petty little demons were not to be provoked, and he had no choice but to follow the two forward.

The Wild of Demon Refinement was quite vast. He followed the two spirit soldiers, stumbling along for several li through wild grass and desolate wasteland, utterly silent all around. The darkness was so thick it was like a mass of ink; apart from the few feet illuminated by those two animated lanterns, nothing was visible.

“What are your names, honored guides?” Li Shimin began working on building a rapport with the two spirit soldiers.

“In the underworld we have no names — we are simply two Wuchang.” The spirit soldier replied.

“Wuchang?” Li Shimin said curiously. “What does this mean?”

“All things are Wuchang — impermanent. What exists will perish. Impermanence makes the cycle of arising and ceasing continue; therefore, those of us who constantly pass between the realms of yin and yang as underworld messengers, seizing souls and claiming lives, are called Wuchang.” One of the Wuchang seemed quite talkative and gave Li Shimin a detailed explanation.

Li Shimin, who had himself often studied Buddhist scriptures, naturally understood what was meant, and thinking on his own experiences — power impermanent, wealth impermanent, rank impermanent — a wave of melancholy rose in his heart.

“And what are these two lanterns you carry? Why are they such great clusters of flame gathered together?” Li Shimin asked.

“These flames are called nether-fire — formed from the bones of the dead. The underworld has no sun or moon; it is dark all year round. Those who dwell in the underworld for a long time grow accustomed to the dark. The two of us carry nether-fire to light the way for newly arrived spirits we escort, so they don’t take a wrong turn.” Wuchang answered.

“I see.” Li Shimin had truly expanded his horizons. Though frightened he certainly was, a small part of him — perhaps one or two parts — found it genuinely curious.

Not much farther along, the sky in the distance gradually grew a little less dark — not bright exactly, still murky and dim, but no longer as completely lightless as before. In the distance ahead, the terrain rose high, like a dark enormous dragon lying prostrate — what seemed to be a mountain range — and at its foot stood a mighty city. Too far away to see clearly, but the city walls extended into the darkness on all sides without end, suggesting a settlement of tremendous scale.

“What is that?” Li Shimin asked in astonishment.

Wuchang looked up. “Ah — the mountain ahead is Yinshan. The Eighteen Purgatory Hells are behind it. This city at the mountain’s foot is called Fengdu City; most of the spirits of the underworld dwell within it, and our King, the Yan Mouluo, presides in the Yan Mouluo Hall within.”

“It resembles the human world.” Li Shimin remarked with wonder.

Moving closer still, the city drew nearer, and the spirits on the road also grew more numerous. Some were similar to Li Shimin — heading into the city — most of them with disheveled hair, dressed in white, dragging their feet with dejected expressions under the escort of spirit soldiers. Wuchang explained that these were newly dead souls from the human world and the realm of animals, brought before the Yan Mouluo Hall to be judged according to their merits and sins in life and then sent off to their respective destinations in the cycle of rebirth. And from within the city came large numbers of wild spirits in tattered rags, bearing heavy neck-stocks and manacled hands, each letting out agonized wails — heartrending and pitiable. Li Shimin felt his scalp creep.

He asked Wuchang, and Wuchang smiled. “Your Majesty — those coming from the city are mostly spirits whose judgment is complete, being sent to the various divisions of the Eighteen Purgatory Hells to suffer according to the nature of their evil deeds. Naturally they are in misery.”

Li Shimin turned pale and dared not ask more.

Not far along, the sound of crashing water surged up, and ahead came into view a river more than ten fathoms wide, with a rushing current and a pervasive stench. Above it was a bridge in three tiers — upper, middle, and lower; most newly arrived spirits walked on the middle tier, while some walked on the lower tier. The lower tier was almost level with the water’s surface; the water there was a near-crimson red. Li Shimin, with his sharp eyes, could see floating in that water incomplete and dismembered corpses; horrible creatures lurked in the depths, occasionally leaping up to swallow the new spirits. Some spirits who had fallen in were not yet dead, flailing arms outstretched in struggle, their screams shrill and agonized.

“Why is this river so dreadful?” Li Shimin’s heart trembled. He asked Wuchang.

Wuchang chuckled. “Your Majesty — this river is called the Wang Chuan, the River of Forgetting. It is the true dividing line between the human world and the underworld. Beyond this river is the realm of the underworld. The road we have been walking is what the human world calls the Yellow Spring Road. The bridge across the river is called the Naihe Bridge — the Bridge of No Alternative. The upper tier is reserved for the passage of those of truly good character. The middle is for those whose good and evil are mixed and who must be judged. The lower is for those who committed great evil in their lives and are receiving their evil retribution. Below the bridge, the blood river is full of copper serpents and iron dogs; the waves crash and roil, putrid winds assault the face; the wicked souls fall into the river and can never transcend it.”

Li Shimin wanted to ask which tier he himself could take, but his lips trembled and he could not bring himself to say it. After walking in silence for a while, not far from the bridgehead stood a tea stall, with a canopy stretched overhead. Inside, an old woman was selling tea; most of the passing spirit soldiers would pause at this stall and have the spirits they were escorting drink some tea before continuing on.

“Your Majesty has walked a long way and must be thirsty.” Wuchang said with a smile. “Why not rest a moment at the tea stall and drink some tea before we continue.”

Li Shimin found this deeply peculiar — the underworld was truly no different from the living world, right down to the tea stalls. He nodded and went with the two Wuchang into the stall. One Wuchang smiled at the old woman. “Meng Po — a bowl of your finest tea broth. This is a great noble from the human world — please treat him with care.”

The old woman had a full head of silver hair, her features shriveled and gaunt — her appearance was actually somewhat fearsome. She swiveled her eyes at Li Shimin, then nodded. “Ah, so little Hui has come. Of course I’ll treat him well.” And she carried out a pot of tea.

Li Shimin was startled. His childhood name had been Little Hui; his father and brothers had called him affectionately as Hui-er. Since he came of age it had never been used again — and after becoming Emperor, even his mother Lady Dou rarely used it. How did this old woman of the underworld know it?

Li Shimin said nothing, accepted the tea. The broth was a deep yellow color and had no particular strange odor. He thought for a moment and was just about to drink it down in one gulp when from the direction of the Naihe Bridge someone came running, crying sharply, “Don’t drink that tea—”

Li Shimin started, quickly set down the tea bowl, and looked up. A young man dressed in a handsome black brocade robe with a soft cloth cap was rushing toward them, his face full of urgency. The two Wuchang inside the stall quickly moved to meet him outside and knelt, “Subordinates pay respects to the Judge!”

Li Shimin’s heart leapt with joy. He called out loudly, “Is that Minister Cui ahead?”

The one who had come was indeed Cui Jue. He waved a hand to let the two Wuchang rise, then entered the tea stall and knelt before Li Shimin. “Your former subject Cui Jue presents himself before Your Majesty!”

“Former subject” could mean “your subject in a previous capacity” or “your deceased subject” — it all depended on interpretation. Li Shimin didn’t dwell on it. Since entering the underworld, he had been uneasy and filled with dread, and seeing Cui Jue at last, he finally had something to hold on to. He quickly grasped Cui Jue’s shoulder and helped him up, his whole face lit with a smile. “Minister Cui! I have found you at last!”

Cui Jue looked thoroughly abashed. “It was your subject who arrived too late and allowed Your Majesty to suffer. Your Majesty — you must not drink this tea…” He turned and looked sternly at the two Wuchang. “Who told you to bring His Majesty here to drink Meng Po’s soup?”

“Ah…” The two Wuchang said nervously, “By the rules, all newly arrived spirits entering Fengdu City must drink Meng Po’s soup — to forget this life and the last, before re-entering the cycle of rebirth.”

Cui Jue was furious. “How do you know the Great Tang Son of Heaven’s years are exhausted and he must re-enter the cycle of rebirth? Did you not know the rule that any spirit before the Yan Mouluo Hall with an unresolved lawsuit may not drink Meng Po’s soup?”

“Drinking this soup would actually cause one to forget everything?” Li Shimin broke out in a cold sweat. Fortunate indeed that Cui Jue had arrived in time — otherwise, even if he had returned to the living world, he would have forgotten everything, reduced to a hollow shell.

The two Wuchang fell prostrate, begging frantically, “Your Honor Judge, spare us — it was truly… it was Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji’s instruction. We privately took their bribes and had no choice but to…”

Cui Jue said through gritted teeth, “You derelict spirits — go confess your transgressions before the Yan Mouluo!”

The two Wuchang trembled from head to foot but dared not disobey; they walked with bowed heads over the Naihe Bridge and headed toward Fengdu City.

“Your Majesty —” Cui Jue looked deeply apologetic. “This Meng Po’s soup must not be drunk. Once you drink it, you will forget all from this life and the last, and become muddled and empty. The underworld’s rule is that all new spirits who come to the underworld and all those heading to the Bureau of Rebirth must drink a bowl of Meng Po’s soup, so they forget everything from their previous life and everything in the underworld.”

Li Shimin let out a long breath. “Fortunate that Minister Cui arrived in time — otherwise I would have fallen prey to treachery.”

“Ah — Your Majesty was gracious enough to visit this subject’s temple today, and Lord Pei Ji also made a solemn pledge, asking this subject to look after Your Majesty in the underworld. This subject was naturally duty-bound to exert every effort. Knowing Your Majesty was coming, this subject specifically went to the Yan Mouluo Hall to review your case, trying to think of a way to argue it — and didn’t expect Your Majesty to have already arrived. Fortunately nothing serious has happened.” Cui Jue looked greatly relieved.

Li Shimin was even more relieved, and was grateful beyond measure. Good thing he had gone to the Judge’s Temple that day to find Cui Jue, and that Pei Ji had pledged all his wealth and prayed for Cui Jue’s care — otherwise, having arrived in the underworld with no knowledge of anyone or anything, he truly would have been utterly lost.

“Much gratitude to Minister Cui.” Li Shimin thanked him sincerely, but also curious, he asked, “How did Minister Cui come to be a Judge in the underworld?”

Cui Jue smiled wryly. “In the sixth year of Wude, your subject was still serving as County Magistrate of Huoyi. Just at that time, the Yan Mouluo from the West had come to the Eastern lands to rebuild Ni Li Purgatory, to judge the good and evil deeds of the human world and to oversee the cycle of life and death. He needed a Judge in his court, and so he transformed himself into a monk and came to the human world to find your subject, asking if your subject was willing to serve. At the time, your subject had been a county magistrate for six years with no prospect of advancement — so steeling my heart, I hanged myself and followed the Yan Mouluo into the underworld.”

Li Shimin felt deeply embarrassed and repeatedly apologized. “It was all because my father and I failed to recognize talent properly — you were wasted as a County Magistrate — I…”

Cui Jue sighed with feeling. “Your Majesty need not say this. These six years as Judge have given me a full view of the affairs of the underworld and the living world, and I have come to understand that the cycle of cause and effect was fixed long ago — beyond the power of human effort to change. But today Your Majesty’s posthumous appointment of this subject as Puzhou Prefect and Inspector of Twenty-Four Circuits in Hebei has given me some measure of honor among the living.”

Li Shimin felt even more remorse — given that Cui Jue had just now kept him from drinking the Meng Po soup, that reward was far too light. But he was on someone else’s territory now and it was awkward to make further promises.

“Minister Cui’s great talent was known to me long since. ‘The incense divides the green into three layers atop the peak; the sword cuts a cun of light through the center of the eye’ — truly a transcendent couplet.” Li Shimin offered his admiration.

Cui Jue was delighted to hear that Li Shimin had actually read his verses, and said, “Not at all, not at all — only mere daubs from this subject. Nowhere near Your Majesty’s vast talent and grand vision. Your Majesty’s poetry is something this subject frequently recited when he was still in the human world. ‘A desolate wind blows beyond the frontier pass; the Jiao River already locked in ice. The Hanhai Sea rolls in a hundred waves; Yinshan Mountain stretches for a thousand li of snow.’ The heroic grandeur of golden spears and iron horses, the imperial bearing of the ruler of men — it hits you in the face!”

The two laughed heartily together. Li Shimin said, “And now we are indeed beneath Yinshan Mountain!”

Cui Jue looked at that distant Yinshan and also found it quite striking, and couldn’t help laughing. Li Shimin suddenly thought of something. “Minister Cui — at this moment my great armies, under the command of Li Jing and Li Ji, are fighting a bloody battle against the Xieli Khan in the Yinshan region. What is the outcome of that battle?”

The previous winter, the Eastern Turks had suffered natural disasters with catastrophic losses of livestock and warhorses. The various peoples oppressed by the Turks — such as Xue Yantuo and Huihe — had risen in revolt. Li Shimin concluded the time had come to counter-attack and ordered Bing Prefecture Governor-General Li Ji, Minister of War Li Jing, and others to lead more than a hundred thousand troops on six fronts against the Turks. They were at that very moment fighting on the great steppe. Li Shimin had pinned his highest hopes on this campaign, and yet was consumed by anxiety over it — it was the pivotal battle for establishing the Tang’s frontier glory. Even here in the underworld, he could not help asking.

Cui Jue thought for a moment. “Your Majesty — this concerns the secrets of heaven; your subject dares not reveal it in full. But Your Majesty may rest easy: this one battle will settle the Tang frontier for a hundred years.”

“Excellent!” Li Shimin at last set down the weight in his heart, his joy evident.

As the two were chatting, suddenly from the direction of the Naihe Bridge, a clamorous crowd of wild spirits came surging over. One and all, their hair was disheveled and they were dressed in white robes, their feet bare. The upper and middle tiers of the Naihe Bridge both had spirit soldiers on guard; the lower tier, too dangerous, had no guards at all, and this crowd of spirits came wading across the lower tier through the blood river. Several spirits in the middle were swallowed by the monsters in the river, but the rest — urged on by two of the leading spirits — came running anyway.

As soon as the two lead spirits reached the far bank, they looked around frantically. “Where is Shimin? Where is Shimin?”

Suddenly one spirit spotted Li Shimin in the tea stall and immediately pointed, shouting. The whole crowd of spirits caught sight of Li Shimin and exploded in fury, letting out heart-rending screams of rage and charging toward the tea stall. Li Shimin at first didn’t understand what was happening, and was slightly irritated at hearing someone call out his personal name without ceremony — but when he saw clearly who it was, it was as though cold water had been poured over him. His limbs went ice-cold; he stood entirely rooted, like a figure molded from clay.

The two leading the crowd of spirits were unmistakably his own elder brother Li Jiancheng and his third brother Li Yuanji!

From the Xuanwu Gate coup to the present had been three years. And now the three brothers were reunited in the underworld — an occasion filled with infinite bittersweet emotion. Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji were largely unchanged from life. Jiancheng still looked as he had at thirty-seven when he died — hair disheveled, face ashen — but otherwise still refined and dignified. Yuanji was lean as before, twenty-three years old and dark-eyed with a brooding intensity. Following behind them were figures Li Shimin also recognized — the sons of Jiancheng and Yuanji, killed after the Xuanwu Gate coup — Prince of Anlu Li Chengdao, Prince of Hedong Li Chengde, Prince of Wu’an Li Chengjun, and others.

When Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji saw Li Shimin in his red-ochre dragon robe and imperial crown, the hatred and resentment pent up through all their years of death erupted at once. Li Jiancheng cried out, “Shimin — so you have come to this! Give me back my life!” He rushed forward, grabbed Li Shimin by the collar, and began to strike.

Two fathers and ten sons — so many crowded into the tea stall and surrounded Li Shimin from all sides, intent on giving him a beating. Li Shimin was truly terrified this time. However iron-blooded, however heroic the emperor, he was still a man — and with the brothers and nephews he had killed appearing suddenly before his eyes, the terror pierced to his very marrow.

Li Shimin, who was physically skilled, slipped under someone’s arm and squeezed into the back kitchen behind Meng Po’s stove and absolutely refused to come out.

Jiancheng and the others were just about to charge in when Cui Jue suddenly let out a great shout. “You wretched spirits — all of you, stop!”

The scene was too chaotic for Jiancheng to notice who had spoken. Yuanji, however, quietly pulled him back, murmuring, “It’s the Judge!”

Jiancheng looked back, startled, and with an unfriendly expression bowed. “Spirit-resident Jiancheng greets Judge Cui.”

Cui Jue gave a cold laugh. “The underworld also has law and order. You lead these people and recklessly assault the Son of Heaven of the human world — are you aware of your offense?”

“Son of Heaven of the human world?” Jiancheng was enraged at once. “Ptuh! What kind of a Son of Heaven is Shimin? His heaven and son-ship came from killing his own brother, imprisoning his own father, and seizing the throne by treachery!”

“You dare to spit at me?” Cui Jue was furious.

Jiancheng gave a frightened flinch and hurriedly protested, “Your Honor’s anger is undeserved — what I spat at was Li Shimin…”

Yuanji spoke up beside him. “Your Honor — you were also once a subject of our Li family. From Taiyuan to Huoyi, ruler and subject were of one mind. Please show some feeling for that old bond. This is our Li family’s internal affair — Your Honor would do best to stand aside.”

Cui Jue laughed coldly. “You were never my ruler — so how was I your subject? Was the Li family good to me? The moment His Majesty arrived in Huoyi, he posthumously appointed me to the post of Puzhou Prefect. Did the Crown Prince or the Grand Emperor, in all their years in power, ever think of me, this ‘ruler and subject of one mind’? No matter your status in the human world — in the underworld you are ordinary spirits. The Great Tang Son of Heaven is the Yan Mouluo’s guest. If you dare pester him further, beware — I will scatter your soul-substance and leave you unable to transcend for eternity. Be gone—”

“Ah—” Jiancheng and the others dared not defy him. They could only kneel on the ground and weep. “What tremendous injustice — and to whom can we appeal?”

Yuanji then glared viciously toward the back kitchen. “Shimin — don’t think you’ve escaped! The Yan Mouluo has already accepted our petition. In the day before his court, we will argue this properly!”

The crowd of spirits wept for a moment, then retreated in resentful reluctance.

“Your Majesty — you may come out now.” Cui Jue, seeing the spirits retreat into the distance, called out to Li Shimin.

Li Shimin had been frightened out of his wits. He seized Cui Jue’s sleeve. “Minister Cui — in this situation, what on earth is to be done?”

Cui Jue thought for a moment and smiled wryly. “Your Li family’s deceased have considerable resources in the underworld. Given the hatred of these two, I fear they will spend freely to recruit a large number of spirits to work against Your Majesty — and those who died at Your Majesty’s hands are not few. Men like Dou Jiande and Wang Shichong — even some of their old partisans who have not yet entered the cycle of rebirth — I worry they will join forces and move against Your Majesty.”

Li Shimin felt a wave of dizziness. Heaven help him — beyond Jiancheng and Yuanji, there were also all these old adversaries! Without Cui Jue needing to say more, he knew perfectly well how many enemies he had. The powerful warlords of the Sui’s collapse — which of them had not fallen by his hand? Each man had had tens of thousands of followers; the spirits gathered together could number in the hundreds of thousands if not more.

He had thought that killing them had put the matter to rest — and yet here in the underworld he still had to face this crowd. Li Shimin bitterly regretted it: had he known it would come to this, he should have held more memorial rites in the living world and had these people properly delivered from their suffering.

“Then —” Cui Jue thought for a moment. “We will not cross the Naihe Bridge, nor enter Fengdu City — that is where the spirits congregate, and this subject alone may not be able to protect Your Majesty there. This subject will escort Your Majesty by water — up the Wang Chuan against the current, into Yinshan Road. Your subject knows a small path that leads directly to the Yan Mouluo’s hall. Once inside the hall, this subject can fully protect Your Majesty.”

Li Shimin was delighted. “I rely entirely upon Minister Cui!”

So the two left Meng Po’s tea stall and walked to the bank of the Wang Chuan River. The moment he reached the bank, Li Shimin nearly vomited — the river water stank with a pervasive, overpowering stench. The crimson water still carried bodies in various states of dismemberment. In the depths of the river, creatures whose names he did not know lurked and emerged to devour the corpses; some spirits who had fallen in were not yet dead, their outstretched arms struggling, their cries shrill and agonized beyond bearing.

Cui Jue saw the compassion in Li Shimin’s expression and said mildly, “Your Majesty need not feel pity. The final cycle of cause and effect in the underworld operates without fail. The great or small suffering here in the underworld depends upon one’s good and evil deeds in the world above. Only those who committed evil in the human world fall into the Wang Chuan blood river — copper serpents and iron dogs may consume them at will; they fall into the river of no alternative and can never transcend.”

Li Shimin nodded, took a deep breath — and nearly retched from the putrid air.

At the riverside was an iron boat; a ferryman sat at the bow holding a long punt pole. Cui Jue took him aboard. The boat was small, with room for only two or three people. Li Shimin looked at the ferryman and started: the man had no eyes at all — just hollow sockets — and was thin to the point of looking like a skeleton.

The strangeness of the underworld was too great. He dared not ask more. He heard Cui Jue say only, “To Yinshan Road.”

The ferryman silently raised the punt pole. The current was rapid, and they were going against the flow — yet for some reason, with the faintest touch of the pole, the iron boat broke through the waves. The bow cut through the floating bodies and the lurking creatures and demons, moving with startling speed upriver.

Li Shimin looked on in open-mouthed wonder.

The river channel gradually narrowed until it entered a dark mountain cave, the river flowing out from within. The iron boat threaded through the cave; the waterway twisted and wound, east and west, for the better part of an hour — then at last arrived at a small landing. Calling it a landing was generous: it was simply another cave where the channel split open. On the bank were steps; the ferryman brought the boat to the steps. Cui Jue helped Li Shimin step ashore; with both feet on solid ground, Li Shimin’s heart finally settled back in his chest.

“This is Yinshan Road.” Cui Jue said. “Following the road upward from here leads to the Yan Mouluo’s palace.”

The two entered the cave and wound through it, climbing several thousand steps. The cave at last came to an end, opening into a valley passage between two mountain peaks. From here, looking ahead, they could see not far off a massive palace shrouded in swirling nether-fire; wisps of grey smoke curled and drifted around it — utterly mysterious.

Cui Jue stopped and smiled. “Your Majesty — the true underworld realm has arrived.”