Chapter Thirty-Nine: Judgment of the Gods

(Apologies for the late update—there was a power outage throughout the day!)

A bizarre scene unfolded before Chen Jianchen’s eyes. He saw a ghostly spirit laboriously trudging forward, carrying a massive stone on its back. The boulder was as large as a small house, weighing heavily upon the little ghost. Across the stone’s surface, the character for “suppression” stood out boldly, occasionally emitting sparks of light like scattered embers.

The ghost was unable to free itself, its face contorted in agony as it nodded repeatedly toward Chen Jianchen, pleading for mercy: “Master Chen, spare me! Please, sir, have mercy!”

Chen Jianchen barked, “You, spirit of the land—entrusted with this territory, not to bless the people, but to torment them with your mischief. By whose order have you dared to wreak such havoc?”

The little ghost bobbed its head like a pecking chick, begging, “Please forgive me, sir. I was foolish and acted on my own, entering a soul without the City God’s command…”

Chen Jianchen raised his brows. “Is that truly so?”

The ghost’s face was drawn with misery. “It’s the absolute truth, sir. How could I dare deceive you? I implore you, please don’t tell the City God.”

Chen Jianchen let out a chilling laugh.

He had suspected this was another attempt by the Underworld authorities to threaten him, but it turned out to be nothing more than the local spirit venting its own frustrations.

—In the world of the living, there are those who feign obedience and petty officials who abuse their power; so too, it seems, in the realm of spirits. Truly, great gods are easy to worship, but little ghosts are hard to handle.

A thought stirred in his mind—his understanding of the Underworld was limited, and now was the perfect opportunity to interrogate this spirit for the information he needed.

“Hmph, you spirit of the land—you’re bold indeed!”

Before questioning, he knew he must first instill fear—a tactic Chen Jianchen had mastered.

The little ghost was so terrified its sharp face paled. If the City God learned of this, it would not escape punishment; at best, it would be stripped of its office, at worst, all its cultivation would be destroyed and it would be cast into the deepest hell. Yet these consequences lay in the future—its immediate peril was the crushing stone. If Chen Jianchen did not release it soon, it would quickly perish, unable even to enter the cycle of reincarnation. Desperately, it pleaded, “Spare me, sir!”

Regret overwhelmed the little ghost.

It had thought the City God was reading in his study and thus would not interfere, allowing it to employ the soul-entering technique to torment Lady Mo and exact its vengeance. As the saying goes, a father’s debt is repaid by the son, a mother bears the brunt of the child’s enmity.

This was a common method of retribution used by spirits of the land against those who showed disrespect, and it always proved effective. If a son refused to worship or offer incense, the spirit would intrude upon the parents’ minds through dreams or coercion, forcing the son to pay homage at their behest. Alternatively, it might enter the soul of a child, terrifying the elders into offering incense and prayers.

Such methods varied in severity, sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh, depending on the person, but the end goal was always incense and faith.

But the spirit of Jingyang Village never expected Chen Jianchen to return home unharmed and even hang a calligraphy above Lady Mo’s bedside. When the ghostly spirit waited for her to fall asleep, intending to repeat its trick and frighten her soul, the calligraphy suddenly radiated with light, transforming instantly into a giant rock that crashed down upon its back, nearly pulverizing it.

Chen Jianchen regarded it coldly, “Tell me—during your tenure as the land spirit of Jingyang Village, how many other wicked deeds have you committed? If you conceal even one, you will never be reborn.”

The ghost tried to argue, “Please see clearly, sir. I was only appointed as the land spirit last year and have never harmed the people under my care…”

Hmm!

Chen Jianchen snorted, his demeanor icy.

Immediately, the weight of the stone on the ghost’s back increased dramatically, swelling in size until it threatened to break its spine. Its legs gave way, and it collapsed to the ground.

Now, only its head remained visible, and it screamed in terror, “Mercy, sir! Spare me! I’ll tell you everything…”

In such dire straits, the ghost dared not hide anything. It poured out its confessions, recounting over a dozen incidents where it had extorted incense from the villagers.

After hearing all this, Chen Jianchen was overcome with fury—this was no guardian spirit, but a rogue, a menace to the countryside.

The only difference was that a common thug collects protection money, while the land god demands incense and faith. The form may differ, but the essence is the same.

How pitiful the villagers were! Unaware of their torment, they believed these spirits benevolent and worshipped them all the more.

Chen Jianchen suddenly recalled what Daoist Qingyun had said while holding the painted skin: “People are fools—though it is clearly a demon, they deem it beautiful…”

Applying this logic, Chen Jianchen could say to his ignorant neighbors: “Though it is clearly a bandit, they worship it as a deity!” Not only did they bow and pray with sincerity, they fiercely defended the spirit’s honor, forbidding anyone to offend it. Should someone dare, these villagers would condemn and berate them with righteous indignation; it was laughable and tragic.

Seizing the advantage, Chen Jianchen pressed for details about the Underworld.

Though the ghost was low-ranked and knew little, Chen Jianchen managed to glean much of what he wanted—

The Underworld, as its name suggests, is the realm that governs spirits.

In this world, when a person dies, a spirit emerges, all under the authority of the Underworld. Occasionally, some spirits escape and wreak havoc among the living, becoming vengeful ghosts.

The Underworld is a world unto itself, rigidly hierarchical: at the top are the Ten Lords of Hell, followed by Judges and the Black-and-White Impermanence, then the City Gods of each province, and finally the mountain gods and land spirits at the bottom.

If a ghost wishes to become an official or reincarnate into a wealthy family, it must accumulate virtue, exchanging a certain amount for such privileges. Of course, to serve as an official in the Underworld, one must also have sufficient cultivation; for example, to be a mountain god or land spirit, one must reach the realm of ghostly divinity, and to be a City God, the golden core realm is required.

The Underworld has its laws, decreeing that it must not interfere with the affairs of the living. Yet, as always, laws are written above, but enforced below. To collect more incense and virtue, violations of these laws are rampant—particularly among the lower ranks of mountain gods and land spirits, where true integrity and discipline are exceedingly rare.

Simply put, the world of the Underworld is but a reflection of the mortal realm—there are no true gods, as tradition would have it!