This was the Road to the Underworld!

Those few breezy words from Lang Jiuchuan sent a wave of tingling numbness washing over Lang Zhengping’s entire body, leaving him blank-faced and dazed, his eyes fixed straight ahead as the wandering souls on either side drifted past him.

Where was he? What was he doing?

Was he in a dream?

But if so, this dream was far too vivid!

Just look at what appeared before him — a headless ghost came barreling straight toward him, howling and demanding he return its head.

Lang Zhengping’s throat produced a gurgling sound, his eyes rolled back, and he began to topple backward. Lang Jiuchuan grabbed his arm, gave a forward wave of her hand, and the headless ghost let out a terrified shriek and fled.

The surrounding souls took notice and scattered as well, as though they sensed the presence of something not to be trifled with.

“Are you all right?” Lang Jiuchuan glanced down at the inner garment that had come loose in his hands: “Hold the garment properly — don’t let the paper figure inside blow away. If some other ghost slips into the paper figure, that ghost becomes your mother.”

Lang Zhengping: “!”

Do you hear what you’re actually saying?

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something — but his throat felt as though an invisible hand had seized it, and not a single word would come out. He simply clutched the inner garment tightly.

“Come on, follow me.” She said, and made to walk forward.

Lang Zhengping was on the verge of tears. He reached out with two fingers and pinched the edge of her sleeve, his face crumpling, voice edged with the sound of weeping: “My — my legs have gone numb. I can’t walk.”

Lang Jiuchuan looked down and saw that both of his legs were trembling violently, shaking like a sieve. She looked back at him and made a veiled remark: “And yet you come from a family of military commanders, renowned through generations.”

How utterly useless.

Lang Zhengping wanted to curse at her but didn’t dare. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t wished for it — he too had wanted to earn merit on horseback like his forebears. But his abilities in both civil and military affairs were only middling. As his father had said: he was someone suited only to maintaining what already existed. As long as he didn’t squander the family’s legacy, that was good enough — it was the next generation he had to place his hopes on.

“It’s true we’re a military family — but which military man ever walked the Road to the Underworld while still alive?!” Lang Zhengping growled under his breath, his voice lacking force.

Having said it, he couldn’t help but wonder — could it be that he was already dead?

“Broaden your horizons a little. You’ll have something to boast about to those other useless young masters later.”

Lang Zhengping: “……”

Oh, I’m ever so grateful. These are horizons I have absolutely no desire to broaden — and don’t think I can’t hear you sneaking in that dig about me being a useless young master. Your Uncle can understand you perfectly well!

Lang Jiuchuan shot him a look of disdain and tapped a few points on his body, saying: “All right, follow me. Call out the Old Madam’s name as we go — no, wait. Too many people share the same name.”

She then grabbed Lang Zhengping’s hand, drew out the Panguan brush, and — though the tip was plainly blunt — pressed it against his fingertip. Impossibly, a bead of blood welled up, which she pressed onto the paper figure.

Mother and child are connected at the heart. With the pull of blood and kinship, it becomes far easier to trace the thread of lineage back to where it leads.

Her movements were swift and clean, and by the time Lang Zhengping had a chance to react, she had already completed the entire sequence.

The faint scent of blood, however slight, immediately drew the attention of the wandering souls nearby, who turned their gazes fixedly in this direction.

“Blood — the blood of a living person.”

Hungry, predatory stares locked onto them like shadows that would not leave.

Lang Zhengping’s entire being went numb!

And when several of the wandering souls, utterly fearless, came lunging at him, the hair on his scalp stood on end, both legs feeling as though nailed to the ground and utterly immovable.

Heavens above — I want to go home!

Lang Jiuchuan raised the Dizhong bell and gave it a single shake. The commanding peal of its sound rippled outward in waves, sending those wandering souls into wailing, howling flight, scattering away at remarkable speed.

Lang Zhengping caught sight of this and felt strength return to his legs in an instant. He lurched forward and pressed himself right behind Lang Jiuchuan.

My elder niece will protect me!

Not a single wandering soul dared come close again. Then the Dizhong rang once more in Lang Jiuchuan’s hand — but this time in a different tone, carrying a thread of warmth, its lingering resonance long and flowing, the kind of sound that made any who heard it stop and tilt their heads to listen.

This tone of the bell carried all the way to the various halls of the Underworld.

The Panguan Cui was in the midst of reporting official matters to the Underworld Administrator when he heard this bell tone and went rigid. He and the Administrator exchanged a glance.

Something was off. This tone — it was the Dizhong. Hadn’t the Dizhong been taken by that unhinged little rogue? How was it transmitting sound here in the Underworld?

Panguan Cui closed his eyes slightly, tilted his head to listen, and said: “It’s coming from the Road to the Underworld.”

“Has she died again?” The Underworld Administrator felt as though his days of peace had just come to an end.

Panguan Cui shook his head: “Impossible. That body is her only lifeline — it won’t die so easily.”

At most, her hardships would multiply.

“Then why has she come again? Someone, you — go and see what’s happening.” The Underworld Administrator pointed to a ghost runner to go investigate.

The ghost runner was gone in an instant and returned just as quickly, reporting: “My Lord, it is Ghost’s Bane performing a soul summoning — the soul of Zhu Sufen, who appears to have wandered onto the Road to the Underworld by mistake.”

“What do you mean ‘Ghost’s Bane’ — call her Lang Jiuchuan!” Panguan Cui reprimanded sharply. What kind of blunt truth was that to blurt out? Was that something to be called aloud carelessly — what if the person herself heard and came over? Who would be responsible for that?

He shot the little ghost an irritated glare, then took out his own brush. Regarding the inferior duplicate brush — a mere imitation — and thinking of the genuine one now in that person’s hands, his very soul writhed in agony.

He summoned the Book of Life and Death, opened Zhu Sufen’s record, and upon seeing that her allotted years were not yet spent, said: “Take a few ghost runners and go assist with the interception. Send her back at once.”

Better not let things drag on until someone sees an opportunity to stir up trouble. If it truly came to a case of Ghost’s Bane in action, things would be genuinely difficult!

The little ghost immediately acknowledged the order and went.

Panguan Cui turned to look at the Underworld Administrator, about to say something — only to see his superior set aside the official documents in his hands and say: “This official has just recalled an urgent matter requiring attention in the Purgatory. Panguan Cui, you carry on.”

Without waiting for Panguan Cui’s response, he vanished in a flash, not a ghost of a shadow remaining.

Panguan Cui: “!”

So that’s what “sharp as a ghost” really means — they were talking about this kind of person all along.

He opened the Book of Life and Death and rapidly scanned through it, looking for whoever was about to die so he could arrange an errand to the mortal world.

Lang Jiuchuan had no idea that an old acquaintance was guarding against her as though against fire. At this moment, she was wholly focused on ringing out the soul summoning command, that urgent yet crisp bell tone resounding across the entire length of the Road to the Underworld. Behind her, Lang Zhengping was trembling all over as he called out for his mother’s soul.

Just as Lang Jiuchuan had foreseen, many souls shared the same name. Hearing it, they came drifting toward this spot one after another — but with Lang Jiuchuan clearing the way, none of them dared to force themselves into the paper figure.

Until the true Zhu Sufen heard the call. She hesitated for a moment, looking ahead, then looking back — a red, luminous thread trembled from the tip of her finger, as though urging her to turn back.

Lang Jiuchuan saw that thread of blood and kinship vibrating, and gave it a light tap with the Panguan brush: “Come back. Go no further.”

The Old Madam Lang heard Lang Jiuchuan’s voice, and that urgent, clear bell tone — and instinctively turned and walked back. It was the voice of her dear one.

Lang Jiuchuan watched as the thread of fate began to move. In no time at all, she caught sight of the Old Madam’s spirit — all three souls and seven spirits intact. The tension in her chest eased slightly. Had any been missing, it would have taken even more effort. What a bother that would have been.

“Mother, where did you go?” When Lang Zhengping saw his mother’s soul, he felt both anger and aggrieved relief — overwhelmed with tenderness above all else, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. He stepped forward and grasped her hand.

The Old Madam Lang seemed somewhat dazed. She too had no idea how she had come to be here. It seemed like the moment she stepped out from home, she had found herself in this place.

Lang Jiuchuan examined the Old Madam’s spirit and gave a small sniff. Why did this woman carry the aura of another living soul?