The hour of Zi was drawing near.

Elder Ruoxu the Daoist sat before a ring of talismans, copper-coin swords, and other demon-subduing instruments, sitting in meditation with his hands forming seals, composed and unhurried.

Abruptly, a gust of yin wind swept through the chamber. The robes of Elder Ruoxu billowed and snapped. His brows twitched — and then, with a faint clinking, the sound of chains striking against one another reached his ears, exactly as he had expected.

But what made his blood run cold was the piercing, keening sound of ghostly weeping — one wail after another, the resentment and misery in each cry chilling him to the bone.

The rumors from outside had been entirely accurate. Jing Wang’s estate truly was haunted.

And this was not the sort of haunting that could be explained away by human trickery.

Elder Ruoxu opened his eyes and swept his gaze around the room. Nothing was visible. Yet the ghostly crying still pressed against his ears. He was silent for a moment, then reached for a talisman — one that had been soaked in a rare and particular substance before being drawn: the Heavenly Eye Talisman.

He pressed his hands together in a seal and intoned a single phrase. The Heavenly Eye Talisman ignited without flame and dissolved into a stream of golden light that sank into the center point between his eyebrows.

A warmth spread through his brow. Then he opened his eyes — and beheld a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life, very nearly losing control of his bladder entirely.

Could someone explain to him how the estate of Jing Wang — the residence of an imperial grandson, the bedchamber of a prince who carried royal dragon blood — had come to be directly connected to the gates of the underworld?

Before him yawned a black void radiating spectral light, a massive gate above which the characters for Feng Du were inscribed in dark script — its deathly energy striking straight at the heart and soul.

And there before his eyes, ghoulish underworld guards with grotesque faces were hauling chains attached to a string of newly arrived souls, herding them toward the ghost gate. From within, a cacophony of ghost wails tore through the air, so terrifying that the new souls began howling and weeping right alongside them.

Elder Ruoxu’s face had gone the color of ash.

He had entered the Dao decades ago. He had seen more than his share of ghosts. But he had never once seen the ghost gate standing open before his very eyes, never once witnessed such a direct passage to the underworld.

He swallowed audibly. In that instant, the small noise he made drew the attention of every ghost in the vicinity. They turned and fixed their dull, hollow gazes upon him.

“He can see us.”

“Help, Great Master, save me!”

“This one has witnessed the ghost gate opening. We might as well take him along.” The underworld guard said this in a low, menacing tone.

Elder Ruoxu immediately squeezed his eyes shut, shaking as he spoke: “I saw nothing. Great Officer, please disregard me entirely. I am willing to burn spirit money and make offerings of wine on behalf of all the Officers present. I apologize for any disturbance, and I humbly ask the honorable Officers to accept this small token.”

The two underworld guards exchanged a glance and snorted. “See that you keep it that way.”

Money could move even ghosts. These underworld guards had their own superiors to pay tribute to.

Elder Ruoxu smiled ingratiatingly and hastily produced a spirit-burning basin. He asked for the names of the two underworld guards and began burning spirit ingots and incense — fortunately he had come prepared with a supply of these things.

The underworld guards collected their offerings and, satisfied, continued on their way.

Seeing them accept the tribute, Elder Ruoxu ventured to ask: “May I humbly inquire, honored Officers — has this path through the ghost gate been open here all along?”

“The underworld has its own rules. How could a passage through the underworld simply be established in a mortal dwelling — in someone’s very bedchamber? It was only because of those above who—”

“Someone is coming. Watch your words.” The other underworld guard cut off his companion with a sharp rebuke, fixing Ruoxu with an icy stare. “Do not ask. Do not meddle.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Ruoxu nodded repeatedly, bowing and scraping, but his mind was racing. From the words of the one called Youlai, he understood: this passage to the ghost gate had not originally been placed here — it was only a recent development. And whoever had opened it had done so from above?

Suddenly, the yin wind surged.

Two white spectral figures came shrieking out of the ghost gate. The underworld guards stepped swiftly aside. “Here they come again.”

Ruoxu, using his Heavenly Eye, saw that the two spectral figures were unmistakably women. Their ghostly forms were dense and substantial, their spirit power immense; they surged out of the gate with chilling ghostly energy and flew straight into the interior of the bedchamber.

This was bad.

He was here tonight — and Jing Wang was sleeping right inside. Those two spirits were heading straight for him.

Elder Ruoxu immediately raised his sword and gripped his talisman, charging into the bedchamber. Sure enough, the two female ghosts had already thrown themselves upon Jing Wang and were gnawing at him. One of them turned to look at Ruoxu. Her ghostly eyes were red as dripping blood. “No wonder Tantai Jing dares sleep in his bedchamber,” she said in a cold, hollow voice. “It turns out it’s because you, you filthy Daoist, are here meddling in other people’s business.”

“Dogs kept by the imperial family,” the other female ghost sneered. “Creatures of the same vile nature. Kill him.”

Ruoxu spoke in a stern voice: “Who are you? How dare you escape from the underworld to cause havoc here?”

The female ghost burst into shrill laughter. “Escape from the underworld? My sister and I are here on orders to take vengeance — we are not escapees. I am Wang Ying, Jing Wang’s first consort. She is Chen Lan, his second consort. We both died under the abuse and torment of Tantai Jing. We have come for the simple reason of repaying a debt of hatred. How can this be called causing havoc?”

As she finished speaking, her spectral form twisted, revealing the manner of her death in all its horror — her hands wrenched into grotesque, unnatural angles, and her lower body was a mass of blood. One could only imagine what torments she had endured.

Chen Lan was the same — and worse. Her intestines were spilling out from her abdomen.

Ruoxu needed no further explanation. He looked at the still-unconscious Jing Wang, and in an instant everything became clear: why neither woman was affected by the dragon energy or imperial blessings — why they were able to inflict such severe harm upon Jing Wang.

Because they themselves were people who had died under imperial decree. They were members of the imperial household. With someone to empower them, they could naturally harm Jing Wang.

And who was that someone? On whose orders had they come? Who, besides the great powers of the underworld itself, had the authority to send them out of the underworld at an exact hour?

Who presided over the Register of Merits and Sins in the Feng Du underworld?

The Panguan of the Punishment Bureau — he who governed the Register of Life, Death, Merit, and Sin.

Ruoxu’s hand trembled around his peachwood sword. A chill ran down his back. He watched Jing Wang thrashing in unconscious agony, as though something were being yanked out of him, and managed to stammer: “You are spectral entities. To enter the mortal world is to cause disorder. If you leave now of your own accord, I shall spare your existence.”

“Oh?” Wang Ying smiled. “Then you are declaring yourself our enemy?”

Ruoxu could find no words. “One should show mercy where mercy is possible…”

“Go to hell!” Chen Lan unleashed a blast of full spectral fury and launched herself at him, her ghost claws slashing forward. “Take this claw from me, you dog Daoist!”

Yin-infused talons raked toward him. Ruoxu reflexively raised his peachwood sword to block — but he couldn’t wound her. Instead, a surge of pure, overwhelming divine power erupted from her body and struck him head-on.

Ruoxu let out a cry of agony and went flying, crashing into the column behind him before collapsing to the ground. He coughed up several mouthfuls of dark blood. His divine soul screamed with pain, and his spiritual energy drained out of him like air from a punctured vessel.

In terror he raised his head and looked up — and saw hovering above that female ghost’s head a brilliantly golden book, radiant with sacred light. His blood ran cold. The Panguan’s divine instrument. The Register of Life and Death. It seemed to mock him, and warn him.

The Panguan has rendered his judgment on sins and merits. Bystanders, do not interfere.

Ruoxu abandoned any thought of Jing Wang. He slapped his own chest with his palm and fell into unconsciousness.

This matter — was beyond him to manage.

The two female ghosts gnawed at Jing Wang thoroughly and completely, watching as the deadly yin toxin seeped into his body. They exchanged a glance, smiled at one another in satisfaction, and departed from Jing Wang’s estate. There was one more place to visit.

The two ghosts drifted out from Jing Wang’s estate — and then, before the gates of the imperial palace, they caught sight of a slender figure standing upon a rooftop, thin as a reed. They paused, and dipped their heads toward her slightly.

Had it not been for her, they would not have known how many more years they would have had to wait before that man — crueler than any evil ghost — finally entered the underworld to face judgment. Now they had been able to take vengeance themselves. All of it was owed to her going before the Panguan on their behalf.

“I gift both elder sisters a share of my cultivated power — go carefully.” Lang Jiuchuan sent them two points of merit and virtue energy, and gave a small nod. “Thank you for your efforts.”

The two ghosts waved their farewells and drifted away.

Only then did Lang Jiuchuan turn her gaze toward the direction of Jing Wang’s estate, and let a cold smile curve her lips. Since she had declared herself to be of the Lone Star of Heavenly Calamity, the husband-destroyer — then naturally, she had to make sure she lived up to the title.