“The Underworld…” Li Shimin murmured to himself, gazing at the imposing yet sinister city before him, his heart filled with both dread and bewilderment. He, a living man, had somehow found himself in the Underworld.

Cui Jue led him away from the valley passage and toward the palace walls. At the end of the valley stood a gatehouse, guarded by four ghost soldiers wearing masks. Li Shimin looked up and read the large characters carved into the gatehouse: The Gate of No Return.

Li Shimin drew a sharp breath. He had never imagined that the gate he had entered would be the legendary Gate of No Return, so famous among the living. Tales of this gate abounded among the common folk and predated the arrival of Buddhism. In the southern lands of Jiaozhi, there was even a mountain pass so riddled with pestilence that few who passed through it ever returned alive — and so it had been named the Gate of No Return. During the Han dynasty, the general Ma Yuan of the Fubo command had marched to Jiaozhi and carved an inscription upon a stone at this very pass. There was even a folk saying: The Gate of No Return — ten men go through, nine never come back.

The four ghost soldiers at the gate saw Cui Jue and bowed in unison. Without asking a single question, they stepped aside and allowed him to lead Li Shimin through the Gate of No Return. Li Shimin felt increasingly favorably disposed toward Cui Jue, and gradually he began to perceive that this adjudicator wielded tremendous power in the Underworld. A thought turned over in his mind — even if this crisis passed safely, how could any man escape death? When the time came for him to die, having Cui Jue’s protection in the Underworld would bring him great peace of mind. But how was he to win this man’s loyalty?

Once through the Gate of No Return, they were inside the city of Fengdu. Having taken a detour, they bypassed the market streets and arrived directly at Yan Mouluo’s Hall. Along the way, at every place they passed, Cui Jue offered Li Shimin a detailed explanation: “Your Majesty, the governing body of this Fengdu is the Office of the Underworld, which is the Hall of Yan Mouluo where you now stand. The Office of the Underworld oversees four departments: the Department of Reincarnation, which manages the cycle of rebirth for souls and houses the Wheel of the Six Paths of Reincarnation, capable of sending souls to any of the six realms; the Department of Soul Summoning, which is responsible for retrieving the souls of the living — the two Wuchang who brought you here earlier belong to this department; the Department of Oblivion, which manages the elimination of souls — some fugitive souls flee into the depths of Yinshan or to the Wilds of Demon Refinement, those borderlands between the human world and the Underworld, where they may cause harm among the living, and the Department of Oblivion is tasked with capturing such wandering spirits; and finally, the Department of the Underworld Prison, which governs the Eighteen Ni Li Prisons situated behind Yinshan.”

“Oh? And what responsibilities does Sir Cui hold?” Li Shimin asked with curiosity.

Cui Jue smiled. “I am an adjudicator, so naturally my duty is to verify the Book of Life and Death, discern good and evil deeds, and issue judgments and punishments. However, since the Eastern Underworld was established only recently, Yan Mouluo is shorthanded, and so I also serve concurrently as the chief officer of the Department of the Underworld Prison. I shall take you to have a look presently.”

“Excellent, excellent.” Li Shimin thought to himself that Cui Jue was quite high-ranking and powerful in the Underworld — he had not expected Yan Mouluo to place such trust in him.

“Yan Mouluo is the supreme ruler of the Underworld, I presume?” Li Shimin asked.

Cui Jue nodded, then paused and shook his head. “Yes and no. Above Yan Mouluo there is the Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha, though he does not concern himself with mundane affairs, dwelling instead within the Eighteen Ni Li Prisons to enlighten and transform malevolent souls. He once made a vow: until all the hells are emptied, he shall not attain Buddhahood. It is this Bodhisattva who stands as the supreme presence in all of the Underworld.”

“I see.” Li Shimin nodded. He had naturally heard of the Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha, and greatly revered that Bodhisattva’s boundless compassion. The thought that he was now in such proximity to a Bodhisattva stirred in him a flicker of excitement. “Sir Cui, might I seek an audience with the Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha?”

Cui Jue was at a loss for words, and after a long moment said, “That, I fear, would not be easy to arrange. The Bodhisattva dwells at the very lowest level of the Eighteen Ni Li Prisons, transforming through enlightenment those souls with the deepest sins — I am afraid an audience would be… rather difficult to obtain.”

Li Shimin also understood this difficulty. He was, when all was said and done, merely a mortal — an encounter with a Bodhisattva was the kind of great fortune not to be lightly stumbled upon.

As the two walked and talked, they gradually entered the Hall of Yan Mouluo. Here the atmosphere was markedly different from outside — everywhere was shrouded in sorrowful, dismal clouds, and the towers, halls, and pavilions were all wrapped in strange mist and smoke, leaving one with a dazed and disoriented feeling. Along the way, they frequently encountered ghost soldiers escorting ghost prisoners to and fro — some of the prisoners were bound with heavy cangues, others had shackles fastened around their ankles, and some had even been pierced through the collarbone with chains. The air was filled with the sounds of weeping, howling, and screaming, unbearable to the ear. Yet the ghost soldiers showed not a shred of pity, lashing out viciously with their whips and shouting harshly.

The sight left Li Shimin’s heart pounding with dread, but Cui Jue paid it no mind, leading Li Shimin straight toward a magnificent main hall. He seemed to carry about him a powerful aura — whether ghost soldiers or prisoners, upon seeing him they all kept their distance and bowed with great deference. Cui Jue ignored them entirely, attending to Li Shimin with careful and respectful courtesy.

Before the main hall, Li Shimin looked up and his heart shook with awe. The great hall was immense — even grander than the Hall of Supreme Ultimate in Chang’an. He could not gauge its height by eye alone, for the very top was lost within the cloud layer hanging over Yinshan.

“The work of gods and spirits!” Li Shimin murmured.

Cui Jue smiled faintly and went inside the great hall to announce their arrival. After a moment, two ghost soldiers stood at the doors of the great hall and called out in a loud voice: “By command of Yan Mouluo — His Majesty the Son of Heaven of the Great Tang is invited to enter!”

Li Shimin gathered his imperial robes and slowly ascended the steps. There could not have been fewer than five or six hundred steps, and he had climbed for quite some time before reaching the entrance of the great hall. At that moment, he suddenly heard a wild and uninhibited burst of laughter, and before him appeared a king wearing a crown hung with twelve pendants of white jade beads. Li Shimin felt a momentary daze — this person’s attire was actually that of a Han dynasty emperor. This, oddly enough, put him more at ease. Had Yan Mouluo been wearing robes identical to his own, that would have been truly awkward.

This king had a swarthy complexion and deep-set eyes — he appeared to be no man of the East. Yet his build was powerful and his stature fully seven chi tall, rivaling even the giant Guo Zai, and standing before Li Shimin he seemed as imposing as a small mountain.

“Ha ha—” Yan Mouluo gave a long laugh, gazing at Li Shimin and saying, “The king of the Underworld and the king of the mortal world meet in this place — what feelings does Your Majesty have?”

Li Shimin saw that he had come out to receive him personally, and felt somewhat reassured. He clasped his hands with a smile and said, “Within the six realms of existence, reincarnation proceeds without cease. To meet Your Honor here is itself a fine tale to be told.”

Yan Mouluo laughed heartily, took Li Shimin by the hand, and led him into the great hall. The hall was dim and gloomy, cold to the bone in every corner. Aside from the pale underworld flames that illuminated the near reaches, the distant spaces were veiled in wisps and tendrils of mist and smoke, too vast to see clearly. Along the outer walls stood a row of ghost soldiers bearing various weapons. Inside were four low tables, and behind each table, kneeling on mats, sat three officials — men of varying ages. Behind them were jade pillars, upon which were carved the words: Department of Reincarnation, Department of Soul Summoning, Department of Oblivion, Department of the Underworld Prison. These three men were presumably the chiefs of each department. The table marked with the Department of the Underworld Prison sat empty — that was naturally Cui Jue’s place.

At the far end of the great hall was a raised platform, upon which stood a wide black table — evidently Yan Mouluo’s seat. Yan Mouluo took his place behind the table and had an additional mat set on the platform below his own seat, then had a small side table brought over, and invited Li Shimin to be seated. Cui Jue himself brought over a pot of tea, and directed two ghost soldiers to attend to them.

Judging by such courtesies, the mortal emperor was being treated with considerable respect.

“Your Majesty,” Yan Mouluo said, “this king invited Your Majesty to come to my Underworld for two matters.”

Li Shimin clasped his hands. “Your Majesty, please speak.”

“The first matter — this king has long resided in the West, and has now come to this Eastern land by command of the Buddha, to reestablish the Underworld, construct the Ni Li Prison, judge the good and evil of the mortal world, and govern the cycle of the six paths of reincarnation. Because the time has been short, most of the mortal world has little knowledge of this. Since Your Majesty is the king of the mortal realm, it falls upon you to carry the mission of educating and civilizing all directions. Therefore, this king has invited Your Majesty to tour the Underworld and gain some understanding of it.”

Li Shimin nodded and asked, “May I ask, Your Honor, why the Underworld was established in the Eastern land and this Ni Li Prison constructed here?”

Yan Mouluo let out a sigh. “Your Majesty surely knows that this Eastern world has a glorious civilization and a heritage of thousands of years. Since the Yellow Emperor laid the foundations of Huaxia civilization to the present day, three thousand three hundred and twenty-five years have passed, through which dynasties rose and fell in endless tumult. Sovereigns failed to show concern for their people and wallowed in extravagance and depravity; officials failed to demonstrate loyalty to their emperors and engaged in treachery and rebellion; common people failed to live in harmony with one another; parents and siblings failed to treat each other with love and respect. Though the three teachings of Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism provided moral instruction, none of these faiths became a universal standard of conduct. And so the mortal world has been plagued by upheaval and filled with evil acts. Consider, for instance, the era of the Five Barbarians — soldiers slaughtered the common people and used their flesh as provisions, keeping living persons penned up as food sources, calling them ‘two-legged sheep.’ Such monstrous crimes of cannibalism — did those people not fear punishment?”

The era of the Five Barbarians was barely three hundred years past, and the northern gentry families still remembered it vividly. Li Shimin was naturally well acquainted with that period of history, and thinking of the terrifying scenes from the chaos at the end of the Sui dynasty just a few years prior, he nodded solemnly: “Your Honor speaks truly. In my view, governing the realm means governing the people — bringing peace to the people, valuing talent, strengthening governance, making the nation strong so the people may live in prosperity and contentment, selecting able officials so that governance is clean and upright, and establishing effective policies to be observed from above to below, ensuring efficient operation. Only thus can a glorious golden age be achieved.”

Yan Mouluo shook his head. “Your Majesty speaks of state affairs. What this king speaks of is the human heart.”

“The human heart?” Li Shimin was taken aback.

“Precisely.” Yan Mouluo said. “Let this king ask Your Majesty — when the nation is strong, it can indeed allow the people to live in prosperity and contentment, their hearts at ease. But is there such a thing as eternal strength in this world? Even the Ganges River has its times of flooding and drought; even the ocean in time becomes a mulberry field. How can any nation remain strong forever? And once the nation declines, what does Your Majesty have to restrain the people?”

Li Shimin started suddenly and rose to his feet: “I beg Your Honor to instruct me.”

Yan Mouluo waved his hand. “Your Majesty, at such times, one must rely on the faith within the human heart. What is faith? It is the submission, reverence, and awe that all people hold toward sages and divine beings, and the taking of their preferences as one’s own standards of conduct. This king has rebuilt the Underworld and erected this Ni Li Prison precisely to make the living understand that everything they do in the world of the living will face judgment in the world of the dead after they die. Whoever in life creates discord, slanders and harms others, insults their sovereign and elders, or deceives through lies — upon death they shall be cast into the Hell of the Torn Tongue. Whoever in life alienates kin, incites estrangement between parents and children, brothers and sisters, or husband and wife — upon death they shall enter the Iron Tree Hell. Thieves, bandits, those who oppress the kind and weak, who abduct women and children, who make false accusations, who scheme to seize the property and wives of others — upon death they shall be cast into the Cauldron of Boiling Oil Hell. Whoever fails to respect their elders, fails to show filial piety to their parents, commits treason, or betrays the state — upon death they shall be cast into the Pool of Blood Hell. Your Majesty, think upon it — if every person carries within their heart this dread of judgment after death, what would the mortal world look like?”

Li Shimin was utterly shaken. His eyes blazed with intensity as he fixed his gaze on Yan Mouluo. The art of rulership does not rest on any fundamental difference in the nature of a ruler — it rests on the difference in position, and the difference in the way one thinks. Since his accession, Li Shimin had labored without rest, rising early and retiring late, wholly devoted to creating a glorious golden age and securing the Great Tang dynasty for ten thousand generations. His governing approach was deeply attentive to the people — not because he shared any common language with the common folk, but because those who had lived through the chaos at the end of the Sui dynasty had all been shaken to the core by that sweeping, earth-shattering popular uprising. The power of the people had been truly formidable — the Sui dynasty, which had unified the realm, had been torn to shreds in a mere matter of years.

In those days when he had suppressed Liu Heita, standing upon the vast plains of Hebei and watching hundreds of thousands of rebels surging toward him in a dark, overwhelming tide, the terror in his heart had been beyond words — these were the same obedient subjects of the Sui dynasty from ten years before. Crack the whip across their backs and they would still manage to smile; kick them down and they would not dare utter a single word of complaint.

He had wondered countless times: how could one truly bridle the hearts of the people, fit them with halter and bit? How could one prevent the violent side of their nature from ever emerging again, keeping them in proper order as loyal subjects of the Great Tang? The method he had devised was the words of Laozi: empty their hearts, fill their bellies. Give them enough to eat; give them warm homes to cherish. And so he had labored tirelessly in governance, racking his mind for ways to improve the people’s livelihoods.

Now, Yan Mouluo had placed a bridle upon the people’s hearts and fitted them with a halter from an entirely different angle. If the mortal world were not the final station in life, if death did not extinguish a person like a snuffed-out flame — if on the contrary, everything they did in life were recorded by gods and spirits, and they were to face judgment in the Underworld after death — who would dare to rebel? Who would dare to rise up? Who would dare to commit evil deeds without any sense of restraint?

Li Shimin was supremely intelligent, and in an instant he understood: the Underworld that Yan Mouluo had rebuilt was nothing less than the final bastion of the mortal emperor, and the finest weapon for governing the hearts of men.

“I thank Your Honor for this teaching!” This time, Li Shimin’s deference came from the depths of his heart.

Yan Mouluo smiled. “Among the six realms of sentient beings — from the phoenix and the celestial dragon above, to the smallest insect below — none can escape this cycle of reincarnation. And the hearts of the people of the Eastern land are covetous and cruel. With no one to govern the Underworld, most after death became wandering, rootless ghosts — some causing harm among the living, some disrupting the order of the Underworld. Heaven’s order fell into neglect; the Underworld fell into chaos. Neither humans nor ghosts had any powerful deterrent to make them feel fear, to give them pause. And so the Buddha commanded this king to come to the Eastern land and rebuild the Underworld, to bring some order to the hearts of both humans and ghosts.”

“I offer my full support!” Li Shimin said in earnest. “If Your Majesty requires me to do anything, I ask that you not hesitate to speak.”

“Very well!” Yan Mouluo rose abruptly to his feet and clasped his hands toward Li Shimin. “This king hereby makes a covenant with Your Majesty — you govern the mortal realm, and I govern the Underworld. Let us join our efforts and purify the hearts of all beings in the six realms!”

Li Shimin’s heart surged with elation — this meant the Underworld acknowledged his position as king of the mortal world.

Two emperors, right there in the Underworld Hall, had forged a covenant.

“That is the first matter.” Yan Mouluo sat back down and turned to Li Shimin. “There is yet another matter — a legal dispute. Several days ago, your elder brother Li Jiancheng and your third brother Li Yuanji filed a complaint, accusing you of killing your brothers in the mortal world and seizing the throne. This king therefore invited Your Majesty to come and offer a defense.”

The elation Li Shimin had just felt vanished like smoke, his back turning cold. He looked down at Cui Jue with pleading eyes.

Cui Jue smiled and said, “Your Majesty, since this is the case, we might as well summon the complainants here and let everyone confront each other face to face in open court — that will make for a proper judgment.”

Yan Mouluo nodded and commanded ghost soldiers to summon Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji. Li Shimin cried out inwardly in distress — killing his brothers and seizing the throne was an indisputable fact; why had Cui Jue allowed these two to come forward? He had never known fear throughout his entire life, yet at the prospect of confronting Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji — those two brothers who had died at his hands — he could not help but tremble.

Cui Jue gave him a reassuring smile, signaling that it would be all right. Only then did Li Shimin manage to settle his nerves somewhat.

After a moment, Jiancheng and Yuanji arrived, falling to their knees in the center of the great hall. They raised a complaint document above their heads with both hands and loudly proclaimed their grievances. Yan Mouluo had the document received and looked it over briefly, then asked Li Shimin: “Your Majesty, these two accuse you of lying in ambush at the Xuanwu Gate, murdering your kin and usurping the throne, and personally shooting your elder brother Jiancheng with an arrow — is this true?”

Li Shimin had no recourse but to rise and say, “It is true.”

Yan Mouluo’s face darkened. He considered for a moment and said in a measured tone, “Does Your Majesty know what punishment this kind of offense merits?”

“While this is true, I, Shimin, also had no choice,” Li Shimin said. “At the time, there was already a drawn sword between Jiancheng and myself — it was inevitable that one of us would emerge victorious. Jiancheng had also attempted to kill me on multiple occasions. Could I simply stand by and wait to be slaughtered? In the eighth year of Wude, I accepted an invitation to a banquet at the Crown Prince’s residence, only to find that Jiancheng had poisoned the wine. Had my uncle Li Shentong not been there to protect me, I would have died at their hands. And yet I still cherished my brotherly affection and did not dare repay wrong with wrong. Unexpectedly, the following year, the Tujue invaded our borders, and Jiancheng petitioned the Emperor Taishang to have Yuanji lead the campaign. I had no particular objection to this — but they also wanted my loyal subordinates Yuchi Jingde, Qin Shubao, and Cheng Zhijie to accompany him on the campaign, and demanded that the troops of the Prince of Qin’s household be placed under his command. I later received word that Yuanji had already made plans to bury my generals and troops alive after drawing them out of the capital, and then march his forces to press upon Chang’an and compel the Emperor to execute me. At that point, even if I cared nothing for my own life, I had to consider the innocent soldiers and officers who would have been sacrificed!”

“You lie!” Jiancheng, seeing Li Shimin argue in his defense, was so furious he could have burst. “When did I ever put poison in your wine? On that day you drank and then clutched your stomach — you were simply framing me. If I had poisoned you, and you drank it, how could you possibly have come out alive?”

Jiancheng was a straightforward man who reasoned with Li Shimin, but Yuanji had a rather volatile temperament. Seeing his enemy sitting above him, he charged forward, ready to come to blows. Li Shimin had just started to dodge when Yan Mouluo slammed the table with a resounding crack and bellowed: “This is sacred ground of the Underworld — how dare you little ghosts make such a scene! Guards — drag them away and cast them into the Iron Tree Hell for seven days!”

The two of them were instantly stunned and stood there blankly as ghost soldiers hauled them off. They only let out cries of terror as they reached the entrance of the hall.

Yan Mouluo’s face showed an expression of awkwardness, and he clasped his hands toward Li Shimin. “The Underworld was only recently established, and these little ghosts don’t know the proper rules — Your Majesty has been disturbed.”

Li Shimin, still shaken, managed to squeeze out a pale smile.

“This presents something of a difficulty.” Yan Mouluo turned to Cui Jue. “Sir Cui, how do you propose we handle this?”

Cui Jue clasped his hands and said, “Your Majesty, why not retrieve the Book of Life and Death and examine it first? All the good and evil deeds of the mortal world are recorded within it — it can serve as a judgment without the need for witnesses.”

Yan Mouluo nodded and directed Cui Jue to go and fetch the Book of Life and Death. Cui Jue rose and walked into the swirling mist at the back of the great hall. After a moment he returned carrying a large scroll, then ascended the platform and positioned himself deliberately to one side of Yan Mouluo. From this position, Li Shimin could just make out Cui Jue’s movements and the contents of the Book of Life and Death — and he could not help stealing glances.

Cui Jue slowly unrolled the Book of Life and Death. It was covered in a dense mass of names arranged in chronological order. He turned through it for a moment, and Li Shimin — sharp-eyed — immediately spotted his own name. The record read: Li Shimin, a man of Longxi Chengji, the second Emperor of the Great Tang, whose reign is known by the title Zhenguan. Born in the nineteenth year of the Sui Kaihuang era, and departed in the thirteenth year of Tang Zhenguan…

“Departed in the thirteenth year of Zhenguan…” Li Shimin was suddenly stunned. “I… have only ten more years to live?”

It struck him like a bolt from a clear sky. He was only thirty-one years old, in the prime of life — how could he have only ten years remaining? Forty-one years of age would be considered short-lived even by the standards of emperors, who rarely lived long. Li Shimin nearly went numb. His glorious golden age, the Great Tang dynasty — what could be accomplished in a mere ten years?

Cui Jue had also seen it. He gave the faintest shiver, then quietly drew a writing brush from his sleeve and lightly drew two horizontal strokes above and below the character “one.” His movement was lightning-fast — accomplished in the blink of an eye — and the brush was returned to his sleeve. Yan Mouluo, standing on the opposite side, was blocked from seeing by the Book of Life and Death, and noticed nothing. But Li Shimin, standing behind Cui Jue, had seen it all perfectly clearly. His eyes went wide — it now read: departed in the thirty-third year of Zhenguan!

His first feeling was one of terror — altering the Book of Life and Death! This was a grave crime!

The causes and effects of the mortal world all had their proper cycles — alter one link in the chain, and every link thereafter, all connected in sequence, would be changed entirely. Li Shimin truly had not imagined that Cui Jue would be bold enough to do such a thing. But then again, thinking of this man’s conduct in the world of the living — leading several hundred militia fighters in a surprise attack on Song Jingang, assassinating Xun Xiang with only two servants at his side — what was there he wouldn’t dare to do?

Then, surging through Li Shimin’s heart came a wave of ferocious, exhilarating joy. With this one alteration, he had gained twenty additional years of life. The thirty-third year of Zhenguan — that meant he could reign as emperor for thirty more years!

He was an emperor after all, and his inner composure was unfathomable. No matter how intensely he rejoiced inwardly, his face remained utterly impassive. By this point Cui Jue had already presented the Book of Life and Death to Yan Mouluo, and Yan Mouluo paused in puzzlement: “Your Majesty still has thirty years of remaining life — why, then, did the Department of the Underworld Prison accept the complaint from Jiancheng and Yuanji? Surely they cannot keep a living person detained here against his will?”

“I am equally unsure of how this came about.” Cui Jue also appeared confused. “Your Majesty, under the laws of the Underworld, we have no authority whatsoever to summon the Son of Heaven of the Great Tang. If the remaining years of life were ten or so, then while we cannot summon the soul itself, we could summon the spirit — leaving a person sickly and mentally disoriented each day. But with thirty years of remaining life, even summoning the spirit would not be permitted!”

Yan Mouluo had not expected things to turn out this way, and his expression at once darkened. He fixed his gaze on the chief of the Department of Soul Summoning: “Chief Ma, what exactly is going on here?”

The old man seated beneath the jade pillar marked Department of Soul Summoning also changed expression. He rose hastily and begged forgiveness: “This… please allow me to look into it carefully.”

The old man hurried away. Yan Mouluo sat there, his face overcast, saying not a word. Li Shimin and Cui Jue also stared straight ahead with fixed expressions, still as carved wood and clay figures. The great hall was as silent as death.

After a moment, Chief Ma came rushing back, his face covered in shame, and prostrated himself: “My king, I am guilty of managing my subordinates poorly. I have now investigated fully — one of my department officials was bribed by Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji, and on account of that bribe accepted their complaint and dispatched agents to summon the soul of the Son of Heaven of the Great Tang.”

“Outrageous!” Yan Mouluo had lost face before Li Shimin, and his fury erupted at once. “Cast that official into the eighteenth level of the Ni Li Prison! Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji engaged in bribery — an exceedingly grave crime! Once their torment in the Iron Tree Hell is complete, cast them into the Saw and Blade Hell! And as for you — an official of your rank, allowing your subordinate to privately accept bribes without being able to detect it — you shall be charged with dereliction of duty! Your position as Chief of the Department of Soul Summoning is stripped — go serve as a ghost soldier in the Ni Li Prison!”

Chief Ma withdrew with a look of bitter resentment.

Yan Mouluo directed Cui Jue to put away the Book of Life and Death, then spent a moment reassuring Li Shimin before saying with a smile: “This king and Your Majesty have felt an instant rapport, as though we have known each other long. Though I would like to speak with you further, you have been in the Underworld for some time and have delayed the hour of your return to life. I fear your body in the mortal world may begin to decay — and so this king will not detain you further. Let Sir Adjudicator Cui escort you back to the land of the living!”

Li Shimin let out a long breath of relief and clasped his hands. “My deepest thanks to Your Majesty!”

The conversation between the two emperors came to an end. Yan Mouluo saw him out of the great hall, and Cui Jue accompanied him on the return journey to the living world. Once the two had left the main hall, Cui Jue led him up toward Yinshan. Only then did Li Shimin quietly offer his gratitude in a low voice: “My deepest thanks to Sir Cui! This kindness and grace, I shall never forget as long as I live!”

Cui Jue waved it aside and sighed. “Each drink, each peck of food — all is determined by Heaven. What I have done tonight may well have been a deliberate arrangement of Heaven’s own design — I dare not take the credit. Your Majesty is a wise and enlightened sovereign, and I hope that Your Majesty will indeed forge this Great Tang into a resplendent golden age, the likes of which have never been seen before or since. That would be my contribution to the welfare of the mortal realm.”

Li Shimin was deeply grateful. “When I return to the world of the living, I shall most certainly bestow upon Sir Cui a generous official title. Does Sir Cui have any living descendants? I shall ensure their prosperity for a lifetime and their glory for three generations.”

Deep sorrow surfaced in Cui Jue’s eyes. He smiled bitterly and shook his head, but said nothing. The two walked on in silence, and then Li Shimin suddenly found himself surrounded on all sides by sheer cliffs and rushing torrents. He asked in alarm: “Sir Cui, are we not returning to the land of the living? What place is this?”

“Yinshan,” Cui Jue said simply. “Such is the way of the underworld — there is a path forward, but no path back. The return to the world of the living lies through Yinshan. I also take this opportunity to invite Your Majesty to tour the Eighteen Ni Li Prisons.”

Only then did Li Shimin understand. He saw that Yinshan was a place of jagged and uneven terrain, full of treacherous and winding paths. It was steep as the mountains of Shu and towering as the crags of Lu. No grass grew on these mountains; the peaks did not pierce the heavens; no travelers walked the ridges; no clouds sheltered within the caves; no water flowed in the ravines. On the front slopes and behind, the heads of cattle and faces of horses screamed and shouted in chaos; in the half-hidden and half-concealed places, hungry ghosts and destitute souls wept and sobbed to one another.

As they walked, a crowd of ragged, armless, legless, and even headless ghosts suddenly surged toward them. Upon seeing Li Shimin, one after another they began to curse and shout at him: “Li Shimin is here! Li Shimin is here! Give us back our lives!”

Li Shimin looked carefully and felt a chill in his heart. He did not recognize most of them, but a few were all too familiar — a middle-aged man of powerful build was Liu Heita; and there was another man with an elegant and refined appearance who was actually Wang Shichong! There were several others whose faces seemed vaguely familiar but whom he could not place.

Cui Jue frowned and said in a low voice: “Your Majesty, these are all rebel kings and bandits from the end of the Sui dynasty, every one of them deaths that left grievances behind. With no one to take them in and no means of rebirth, and no provisions for the journey, they are all wandering, hungry ghosts. They were likely also incited by Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji to come and seek redress from Your Majesty.”

“I recognize them…” Li Shimin’s face went pale. “Sir Cui, what is to be done?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Cui Jue said. “Give them some money to see them off — that will suffice.”

“Give them money and they can be sent off?” Li Shimin asked in puzzlement.

Cui Jue smiled wryly. “Has Your Majesty forgotten the corruption in the Department of Soul Summoning? The Underworld was established only recently, and its laws and procedures are not yet complete. Life as a ghost in the Underworld is miserable — with money, these ghosts can bribe the Department of Reincarnation and find a better family to be reborn into. Why would they bother coming to trouble Your Majesty after that?”

“But I have no money on me at all!” Li Shimin also smiled wryly. It seemed that Yan Mouluo also had poor oversight of his subordinates — how else would there be so many loopholes?

“No matter,” Cui Jue said with a smile. “Has Your Majesty forgotten? Official Pei Ji gave away all his wealth to ask me to protect Your Majesty. I can naturally make use of his funds first, to buy Your Majesty a clear passage.”

And so Cui Jue negotiated with the crowd of ghosts. These ghosts, though they loathed Li Shimin to the core, were jubilant at the prospect of being reborn into a good family. Once Cui Jue made his guarantees, the crowd of ghosts scattered in a great commotion.

Only then did Li Shimin relax, and he followed Cui Jue onward. The summit was nearly in sight — and there, at the top, a red light blazed, illuminating the entire sky. He then realized that the summit was not a mountain peak at all, but an enormous natural crater! The crater was a full hundred zhang across. On all four sides flames roared and crackled, while at the very center a massive rotating disc revolved. The disc was composed of hundreds of linked conveyor belts arranged to rotate in opposing directions, never stopping. On each belt lay a ghost soul, fastened down by iron rings so the body could not turn. On the opposing belt hung rows of ice-cold hooks, which caught into the mouths of those ghosts, and as the two belts rotated in opposite directions, the hooks pulled taut — with a terrible scraping sound, the ghost’s tongue was wrenched entirely from its mouth. The screams of the ghosts on the disc rose one upon another, blood soaking the belts — a sight too horrific to look upon.

“What… what is this place?” Li Shimin asked, his heart pounding in terror.

“Ha, Your Majesty — this is the first of the Eighteen Ni Li Prisons: the Hell of the Torn Tongue,” Cui Jue said. “Whoever in life creates discord, slanders and harms others, speaks with a slick and oily tongue, argues cleverly and insincerely, or deceives through lies — upon death they are cast into the Hell of the Torn Tongue to suffer here. In the Eighteen Ni Li Prisons, the length of one’s suffering varies according to the severity of the offense. The shortest sentence, measured in terms of the lifespan of this hell, means that one day here equals three thousand seven hundred and fifty years in the mortal world. Each level of the prison is twenty times more tormenting than the one before it, and doubles in duration. By the time one reaches the eighteenth level of the Ni Li Prison, the suffering is beyond any description.”

Li Shimin’s face turned a ghastly color. No wonder Jiancheng and Yuanji had screamed so pitifully when cast into the Iron Tree Hell for seven days — by mortal reckoning, that was seventy-eight thousand seven hundred and fifty years.

“Your Majesty, below the Hell of the Torn Tongue is the second level: the Hell of Scissors…” Cui Jue continued his narration, leading him down the hell along the walkways built into the walls of the crater.

Below the Hell of Scissors was the Iron Tree Hell. Li Shimin remembered that Jiancheng and Yuanji were suffering here, and he looked around, but did not find the two of them. Before his eyes were forests of iron trees, their trunks and branches covered in sharp blades, with countless ghost souls pierced through and hanging from them.

The fourth level was the Hell of Past Sins. Here things were comparatively quieter. A hundred or so six-sided mirrors stood in rows, and many prison soldiers led ghost souls past them as attendants made records nearby. Cui Jue explained: “This Hell of Past Sins serves the function of judgment and verification. After death, no matter what a soul has concealed, everything is revealed when they pass before these six-sided mirrors, and then they are dispatched to the appropriate hells based on the nature of their sins.”

The fifth level was the Steaming Cage Hell.

As the two descended, they were hit by waves of scorching air, unbearably hot and stifling. In the center of the crater rose an enormous steaming cage — its interior was invisible from outside, but the sound of countless screams carried through. Cui Jue explained: “Those who in everyday life spread rumors and malicious gossip, and who frame and slander others, are cast into the Steaming Cage Hell upon death. The ghost souls are steamed until the entire body dissolves into a pulp, then an underworld wind sweeps through to reconstruct the body, and they are brought into the Hell of the Torn Tongue.”

The sixth level was the Copper Pillar Hell. Thousands of copper pillars, three chi in diameter and one zhang tall, rose up from the center of the crater. Flames burned at the base of each pillar, heating them until they glowed red, while the ghost souls were stripped of their clothing, and both arms wrapped around the copper pillars, where they were slowly roasted alive. The pungent odor of scorched flesh permeated everything, and the agonized screaming nearly made Li Shimin want to cover his ears.

Cui Jue still wanted to lead him further down, but Li Shimin quickly waved his hand. “Sir Cui, Sir Cui — enough, enough. I do not wish to look further. These scenes of hellish misery make my spine go cold.”

Cui Jue burst out laughing. “Very well then — since Your Majesty does not wish to continue, I dare not press you. Let us be on our way, and return to the world of the living as soon as may be.”

As the two were talking, someone in the distance suddenly called out at the top of their voice: “Your Majesty, do not go further down—”

Li Shimin and Cui Jue were both startled, and the two of them looked up at the same time. In the distance, on the mountain slopes, two figures were running toward them at full speed. They were too far away to make out their faces, but in the light of the roaring flames below, one of them had a gleaming, bare head — a monk!

“Who are they?” Li Shimin asked in bewilderment.

Cui Jue’s expression darkened. “A foolish monk who doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone,” he said coldly.

The two watched from afar. Cui Jue was covered in cold sweat — he knew full well what it would mean if these two people were allowed to reach Li Shimin. In that moment, a violent and murderous impulse surged through him — he nearly gave the order to have ghost soldiers cut down both of them. Yet Li Shimin was standing right there beside him, and such a command would become the one broken link that could unravel this entire carefully constructed situation.

Li Shimin’s eyes also flickered as he stared. A monk had appeared in hell — what could this mean?

At just that moment, the two of them noticed that on one side of the Yinshan cliffside, two near-transparent human shadows stood in silence. One of them held a curved bow, and slowly drew back the bowstring. In the light of the flames, the icy arrow tip gleamed with a blinding brilliance, aimed directly at the two running figures…