Ch54 – The Magician Who Was Sold to the Netherworld

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Immortals?!

Zong Jiu narrowed his eyes, persisting down this line of questioning. 

The ghost official contemplated for a moment.
Since he had already started, he followed through, giving Zong Jiu a clear explanation of the sequence of events.

There were some things that were impossible for mortals to understand or discern.

 

 

But for the ghost officials of the nether world, there was little that escaped their knowledge.
After all, the living could lie but dead men told no tales.
No secrets could be concealed from the mirror in the Palace of the King of Hell.

Further, this affair had also sparked intense discussion in the underworld.
Three years ago, this was juicy gossip for all the ghosts to enjoy. 

…

 

The old woman was surnamed Wang.
She was childless for many years and her husband had passed away early on.
She lived the rest of her days alone in the mud house behind the old locust tree in Tongbai village.

In those years, not many people in Tongbai village believed in the Buddha.
As such, there was only a run-down temple at the back of the village, which was in a state of disrepair and unsheltered from the cold breeze.

However, the story of a bodhisattva who had become a Buddha there was passed down orally from generation to generation.

 

After her ascension, the bodhisattva blessed a piece of land in the village.
Standing apart from other yellowish dirt, this earth was a deep crimson.
It was impossible for any plants to survive in this soil.
Legend had it that the only plant that could grow on this earth was the Sacred Herb that could grant immediate ascension to immortality.

However, all in all, people only took it as a fun anecdote to tell over food and drinks.
No one actually believed it.
After all, the village had tended to that patch of bodhisattva soil for several centuries without any green emerging from it.

Peasants passed their days with their faces to the earth and their backs to the sky.
If they had the capacity to believe in Buddhism and recite scripture, they might as well plow another two plots of land.

The old woman was the only one who believed in Buddhism. 

No one in the village was willing to tend to that infertile bodhisattva soil, so the old woman silently tended to it all by herself.
Every day, she swept the temple clean and took care of the bodhisattva soil.

Others were ridiculing the old woman behind her back, but she didn’t care, only saying with a smile that, as it was out of her belief in Buddhism, this didn’t tire her.

And so, a decade passed like a day, and the days went by in this way.

But it was odd.
It was difficult for the elderly in the village to live beyond sixty years of age, yet this old woman was still hale and hearty.
The infirmities of old age weren’t visible on her.
Much to everyone’s surprise, she was spry, and even able to walk around with her hoe. 

Coincidentally, the famine broke out that year.

First, the heavens didn’t cooperate, giving a yearlong drought.
Next came a plague of locusts, and not a single grain of harvest was reaped.
The people lived in dire poverty.

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Without food on the table, they killed the pigs that they had prepared for the lunar New Year.
After devouring the pigs, they nibbled on grain chaff.
Once the grain chaffs were gone, they could only dig for wild vegetables.
In the end, the villagers stripped the bark off of trees in their hunger, killing a large expanse of trees in the forest.

At night, when the hunger gnawed unbearably at them, they would bind their abdomens with strips of cloth, further constricting their hungry stomachs. 

One night, the bodhisattva in heaven came to the old woman in a dream.

The bodhisattva was treading on clouds, an iridescent glow draping her body, accompanied by elflings.
The dreamscape was vast and obscure, blanketed in the fluttering notes of heavenly music.

 

“We share a destiny.
I have witnessed all of your years of labour as you tended to that earth.”

“Remember, the very nature of the destined object is imbued with Yang.
This heavenly gift cannot be directly endured by the human body.
After taking it, you must consume some bodhisattva soil, entrenched with Yin, daily.
It doesn’t have to be much; a small handful will suffice.
After a year, you will gather enough merit to ascend to the ranks of the immortals.” 

After saying this, the bodhisattva swiftly left in a flutter.

It wasn’t yet daybreak when the dream ended.
The old woman wrapped herself in clothes and left the house with a lamp.

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection.
If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

Sure enough, in that infertile bodhisattva soil, a single blade of Sacred Herb stood quietly, radiating a faint glow that was clearer than the chilly moonlight.

Kter atf biv kbwjc xcfk atja rtf tjv fcmbecafgfv j agef lwwbgaji.
Vtf xcbmxfv tfg tfjv jujlcra atf ugbecv, xbkabklcu lc ugjalaevf, qgboerfis mtjcalcu tfg atjcxr obg atf ybvtlrjaanj’r yifrrlcu. 

Ktf biv kbwjc mbcrewfv atf Vjmgfv Lfgy, jcv, ab tfg regqglrf, obecv atja tfg fsfr jcv fjgr kfgf revvfcis mifjg, jcv tfg ybvs jr ilatf jr j rkjiibk.
Jjggslcu j yemxfa bo kjafg kbeiv fztjera tfg yfobgf, yea rtf mbeiv cbk mjggs la klat bcf tjcv jcv ralii kjix rqglutais.
Snfc atf mgfjrfr bo tfg ojmf tjv rwbbatfv bea rluclolmjcais, mtjculcu yfsbcv gfmbuclalbc.

Most importantly, after eating the Sacred Herb, the old woman discovered that she only needed to follow as the bodhisattva instructed, and eat a small amount of bodhisattva soil every day to maintain sated throughout the day without requiring any other sustenance.

For those living in a famine age, this was a momentous surprise.

At this, the ghost official couldn’t help but heave a sigh.
“This old woman was also blessed by nature.
You know, after Liu Bowen of the Ming dynasty severed the dragon veins, the immortal and mortal realms were essentially cut off.
It’s more than difficult for a mortal to become immortal; no one can even dare to dream of it unless they have a great destiny and great merit.”

Returning to the story, he went on to say that the old woman was a kind-hearted person.
Despite receiving the favour of the bodhisattva, she not only didn’t boast but instead kept a low profile and did more good works with her feet firmly planted to the ground.

Since she only had to eat the bodhisattva soil every day, the old woman gave all of her food and the small amount of harvest from her land to the villagers.

For example, to the malnourished children in the village who didn’t have enough to eat, or for example, to the newlywed wife of the village head’s son who was pregnant and lacking nourishment. 

Over time, however, this matter caught the notice of the rest of the village.

Each household only received that little amount of sustenance, which was not even enough to fill one person, every month.
How, then, was an old woman able to give out so much food to others?

So the villagers furtively followed the old woman and found that she would eat a handful of bodhisattva soil every day.
As long as she ate the bodhisattva soil, she wouldn’t have to eat again for a day.

Eating that soil can satiate hunger. 

This news instantly engulfed every corner of the village, and the villagers fought to eat the bodhisattva soil.

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What was once a thick plot of land was dug up to the point where there was almost nothing left.

 

But the bodhisattva soil was entrenched with Yin.
Once ingested, the lightest consequences were vomiting and diarrhea, and it wasn’t uncommon for people’s souls to depart in the night.

After eating it for a few days, the villagers found that it didn’t satiate their hunger as they thought it would, but instead took their lives, and flew into a rage. 

In their eyes, the old woman was a traitor who was hiding a secret and wasn’t sharing what she knew, thus held her for questioning.

The old woman couldn’t speak of her suffering.
There was only one blade of the Sacred Herb, and the bodhisattva had warned her not to reveal the mystery only known to heaven, so she didn’t know where to begin.

The famished villagers didn’t listen to her explanation.
When they saw the old woman putting up a desperate struggle, they directly locked her up in her house.

They nailed the wooden planks of that old mud house, only leaving a small gap. 

After this was done, the villagers said viciously, “Since you don’t want to talk, let’s see if you’re still alive after seven days!”

The ghost official let out a long sigh, “In truth, that was really harsh on that old woman.”

“In the beginning, even though the bodhisattva said that she no longer needed to ingest other food, she still had to eat the bodhisattva soil to counteract the Yang attribute of the Sacred Herb.
What’s more, even if she had consumed the Sacred Herb, she was still, by nature, mortal.
How could a mortal not drink a drop of water for seven days?”

And so seven days later, the villagers tore apart the wooden planks. 

Half the walls were covered with scratch marks that the old woman had clawed out in her extreme hunger.
The house was in great disorder, and she was lying in the centre with pain etched into her expression, already passed out.

The villagers went up to check and saw that the old woman had only fainted.
She was running a high fever, but she was not yet dead.

At this time, word of the bodhisattva’s manifestation had already spread.
Everyone within a fifty-kilometre vicinity knew about it, and many had come to see what had happened.

Among them, there was a treacherous Yin walker, Grandma Yin. 

Grandma Yin was sinister and vicious.
Seeing that there was no opportunity for her to obtain the Sacred Herb, she came up with a deadly trap.

She instigated the villagers, telling them that eating the Sacred Herb would fill their stomachs and grant them immortality, yet also telling them that, unfortunately, there was only one blade of Sacred Herb, which was hidden by the old woman for her own consumption.

At that time, the villagers saw that the old woman didn’t die after seven days without sustenance, and they naturally believed Grandma Yin’s words.

Further, they had gone half a month eating the bodhisattva soil, and Yin had now amassed in their internal energies, unwittingly amplifying the vicious thoughts in their minds. 

Grandma Yin seized the opportunity to fan the flames; in Journey to the West, eating the flesh of the monk, Tang Seng, would grant immortality.
Why not follow suit, then; not only would they fill their stomachs, but they’d also live for as long as the heavens existed.
Wouldn’t that be splendid?

This inhumane proposal was unanimously applauded by the villagers.

 

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They chose a dark and windy day to set up a giant pot in the middle of the village under the sky, lit a fire beneath it, and submerged the old woman in boiling water.
They added oil, salt, and vinegar, mixed in wild vegetables, and stewed a pot of tasty broth.

Bizarrely, the flesh of this elderly in the twilight of her days was supple and delectable, like the most delicious delicacy in the world.
Even a bite was addictive, and from that day on, the taste of human flesh lingered in their minds. 

The ghost official said, “Grandma Yin originally made an agreement with the villagers for her to get the soul of the old woman in exchange.
But what no one expected was that immediately after the broth was distributed, a dark shadow was cast over Tongbai village, and the old woman’s soul vanished into thin air.”

Others might not comprehend, but ghost officials did.

If this happened to any other person, the resentment in their heart might morph them into a malevolent demon and claim the lives of the entire village.

However, the soul of the old woman merely chanted a few lines of Buddhist scripture, shook her head, and directly ascended to the ranks of the immortals. 

This direct ascension to immortality was a scene that should have sent a blessing from the heavens upon the earth.
But the atrocities of the villagers were so unforgivable that the heavens couldn’t bear to show any grace, and they withheld the sweet rain from the sky.

The villagers were scared out of their wits by the chilly, foreboding wind that whipped up from the ground.
Under the guidance of Grandma Yin, they hastened to set up a spirit tablet for the old woman at the foot of the clay bodhisattva, lest the old woman came back as a malevolent demon to claim their lives.

“Those mortals were fools.”

The ghost official snorted.
“It is said that after they ate the old woman’s flesh, not only did they fail to satiate themselves, but they also picked up a proclivity for cannibalism.
Not only that, but they also continued to consume bodhisattva dirt.” 

“After committing such atrocities, a large amount of Yin had amassed in their bodies.
The villagers had each morphed into demons wearing human skin.
Once they died, they would have to atone for their sins in the Eighteen Levels of Hell.”

Hearing this, Zong Jiu let out a long breath.

No wonder.

No wonder Zong Jiu would draw Death in the reversed orientation at the old mud house. 

It turned out that the old woman had genuinely died, but she resurrected like a miracle, ascending on the spot.

As it turned out, the tarot reading of the Moon that Zong Jiu had drawn at the fork that day didn’t refer to the deception of the village head, but the lies of Grandma Yin.
That conversation was clearly a carefully crafted trickery.

No matter whether it was the village head, Grandma Yin, Wang Shou, or his wife.

Ever since they entered the instance, not one living person they met had spoken the truth. 

From the start, Grandma Yin had voluntarily provided those clues to mislead them.

Many times during which the trainees could have sieved out a spider web of clues from the contractions in the villager’s statements.

 

However, first impressions were hard to change.
They had classified Grandma Yin, someone who had voluntarily given them clues, in the role of a support-type NPC, never considering that she was the chief culprit behind it all.

It was no wonder that the difficulty level of this instance was so high, that they were heading towards a mass wipeout on the third day when the duration of the instance was explicitly stated to be seven days. 

With the wrong evidence, no amount of walking could have turned them onto the right path.

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…This slick guiding with sweet falsehoods, step by step manipulating public sentiment; the deep commitment for stirring discord and adding fuel to the flames, yet standing apart on the opposite shore to spectate the fire, admiring the pain and ugliness of humanity when plunged into desperation—

Zong Jiu was now hundred percent sure who the one behind Grandma Yin was.
He smiled genially.

Once figuring this out, he nodded eagerly to the ghost official, about to go back and square accounts right now, god bless anyone who tried to stop him. 

The ghost official, “Hang on, you’re a human who has been sold to the underworld now; where are you planning on going?”

Zong Jiu, “…?”

Seeing his oblivious expression, the pity in the ghost official’s eyes deepened.

Perhaps hoping for him to become a wise ‘ghost’, the ghost official patted his shoulder, “Are you a fool? Didn’t I just tell you? The chief culprit is Grandma Yin.
Yes, the one right outside.” 

“She is much smarter than those short-sighted villagers.
She knew that cannibalism would increase one’s sins and consuming the bodhisattva soil would corrupt one’s humanity, causing one to degenerate into a demon.
So, from the start, Grandma Yin never walked these two roads.”

A light bulb flashed in Zong Jiu’s head.

A perfect corpse, that was it.
A perfect corpse would certainly refer to someone who had never consumed human flesh nor soil entrenched with Yin.

“Grandma Yin would often bring people down.
Hell is short on manpower nowadays, and traversing the realms would damage the spiritual body of an ordinary soul.
She leads living souls down in exchange for longevity in the mortal world, and under the extenuating circumstances in the present, the King of Hell can only close one eye to it.” 

Seeing that he remained mute, the ghost official reassured, “Don’t worry.
Those villagers have morphed into demons and would naturally turn their hoes onto Grandma Yin, who also believed in Buddhism.
We are treated well in hell; as long as you do your work well, you might even be promoted to a higher rank in the future.”

Yeah, so that was why the tasks had failed on the third day.
Those villagers had charged to the temple and stewed Grandma Yin as well.

They would naturally distribute the broth after stewing her, and it was for this reason that the main tasks of both camps had failed at the same time.

Zong Jiu’s human shell remained in the realm of the living.
As everyone knew, if a soul wandered off for too long, that shell would become a true corpse. 

When the duration of the instance ended, the system would surely rule him as dead rather than eliminated by task failure.
In which case, he would be directly obliterated.

The Devil seriously dug a pit for him this time.

 

This was also a gift in kind from the other party after he had torn out the Devil’s puppet strings, causing the Devil’s repertoire to go haywire.

Zong Jiu sneered. 

With a flick of his wrist, he took out the Soul Devouring Bell and affected sincerity in his expression.
“Master, how about I leave this as collateral and, by your generosity, you allow me a back door?”

The ghost official looked hesitant.
“Your Soul Devouring Bell is decent, but the quality is a little low.
It’s hard for me to account for this with the King of Hell…”

His words jammed stiffly in his throat.

Because the white-haired young man had just whipped out a thick wad of hell banknotes from thin air, breezily asking him if this sufficed.