novelraw Chapter 113: The Penniless Ghost — The Grand Yama Hall
Chapter 113: The Penniless Ghost — The Grand Yama Hall
"This place really does feel like the Old Temple."
Chen Huangpi stepped through the ghost gate and into the world where the Nine Nether God Lantern dwelled.
Everything before his eyes seemed veiled in a layer of fog—dim and indistinct.
Outside had been equally gray and overcast.
But at least it had still been daytime.
Here, visibility was nearly impossible. Only the flickering flame of the Nine Nether God Lantern drifting ahead provided any illumination at all.
By that feeble light.
Chen Huangpi caught sight of the Yama Hall.
It was enormously tall, built entirely of stacked stone. Together with the main hall and its side halls, it stretched so far that its boundaries were lost to view.
They called it the Yama Hall.But in truth, it dwarfed even Xuzhou City from those cultivators' memories.
Judging by the Yama Hall alone, it bore no obvious connection to the Old Temple.
But when Chen Huangpi looked down at the countless savage, hideous faces beneath his feet, every hair on his body stood on end.
These were all evil spirits.
The strongest among them were only equivalent to what mortals would call a Disaster-class.
But so many evil spirits paving the very road he walked on—how could anyone not be terrified?
Then there were the fog-shrouded zones surrounding the path. He couldn't see into them, but from within came muffled, rumbling growls and the rattling of iron chains—evidence that even more fearsome evil spirits lurked within.
There were many, many such zones.
"Before Master went mad, he used to patrol the mountains regularly and toss any powerful evil entities into the Old Temple."
Chen Huangpi murmured, "This place is far too similar to the Old Temple. Master must have created it."
"Huang Er, what do you think?"
"Are you speaking to me?"
The Brass Oil Lamp answered in a daze. "But am I really Huang Er? Who am I? Where do I come from? Where am I going?"
"..."
Chen Huangpi was struck speechless.
It was clear that counting on Huang Er was out of the question. Some thick, impenetrable wall had formed between the lamp and its own identity—it couldn't even puzzle through such a simple question.
"A Gui?"
"Contract Master."
The Life-reaping Ghost said gravely, "If this place truly mirrors the Old Temple, and both were built by the Guanzhu, then something might be sealed here as well."
"We should avoid doing anything unnecessary. Once we find the way out, we leave immediately."
"Otherwise, if something goes wrong, there may be no one left to protect you."
The Nine Nether God Lantern had ignored Chen Huangpi from the very start. It had also ignored the Brass Oil Lamp entirely.
If Chen Huangpi encountered danger.
There was a very real possibility it would not intervene.
Otherwise, its attitude would not have been so indifferent.
Chen Huangpi understood this perfectly.
As he followed the Nine Nether God Lantern toward the Yama Hall.
He discussed the situation with the Life-reaping Ghost. "In the Old Temple, if you don't leave before dawn, you can never leave again. This place might work the same way."
"The Yellow Springs and Yin Lands are the opposite of the mortal realm, so perhaps the rule is reversed here."
"That makes sense."
Chen Huangpi mused, "The Nine Nether God Lantern is heading for the Yama Hall. The path back should be inside the hall too. But that Yama has already been beheaded—it's dead. The interior should be empty."
"Also, A Gui, you said there are ten Yama Halls in total."
"But only the Seventh Hall is here."
The Ten Halls of Yama were each located within different cities throughout the Yin Lands.
The Seventh Hall lay within the Town of Wrongful Death.
Now the Seventh Hall existed in the world behind the ghost gate. What had become of the remaining nine halls was anyone's guess.
The Life-reaping Ghost pondered for a long time.
Then, with a complicated tone, it offered a hypothesis. "Perhaps there are ten ghost gates in total—each housing one of the Ten Halls of Yama."
Chen Huangpi said with understanding, "If that's the case, then there must be ten Nine Nether God Lanterns as well."
The Nine Nether God Lantern had consecrated Yin Gods numbering close to eight million.
But the Yin Gods inside the Town of Wrongful Death, while numerous—a seemingly endless sea stretching as far as the eye could see—didn't actually number that many.
A few hundred thousand at most.
The most likely explanation was that the remaining Yin Gods were being forged in different cities.
"A Gui, we're here."
Chen Huangpi now stood at the entrance of the Yama Hall.
Outside the hall, a single pillar rose from the ground.
It wasn't particularly tall, but it had a protruding notch at just the right position. The Nine Nether God Lantern hung itself upon it and went still, falling completely silent.
"I thought it was going inside too."
Chen Huangpi shook his head and walked into the Yama Hall.
Behind him, the Nine Nether God Lantern's flame exuded its cold, ghostly glow.
In this pitch-black world behind the ghost gate.
Even the coldest lamplight felt incomparably warm.
Inside the Yama Hall, however.
A faint, yellowish light illuminated every corner.
Chen Huangpi carried the Brass Oil Lamp and crept forward with utmost caution.
"Chen Huangpi, they say a lamp's life begins the moment it leaves the kiln. But looking at things now, it seems this lamp has spent its entire life inside one."
The Brass Oil Lamp said in a hollow voice. "Perhaps this lamp never left the kiln at all. You, the Guanzhu, A Gui, those two beasts Golden Horn and Silver Horn—you're all nothing but fantasies this lamp dreamed up in its final moments before being melted down."
"A Gui, ignore Huang Er."
Chen Huangpi pouted. "It's lost its mind. You keep guiding me."
The corridors inside the Yama Hall twisted and intersected in a labyrinthine maze.
And it was not a straightforward path to the deepest chamber.
If not for the fact that A Gui had a Yama for a father—and had once served as a minor clerk guarding the Soul-Hooking Manual—even after entering the Yama Hall, Chen Huangpi would have been hopelessly lost.
"Contract Master, do you see the wall on the left?"
"I do. There's a Hundred Ghosts Mural on it."
Chen Huangpi walked up to the wall. Painted across it was a terrifying tableau—ghosts of every shape and size, grotesque and varied. There were Heart-Eating Ghosts, Long-Tongued Ghosts, Starving Ghosts, Mother-and-Child Ghosts—nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine in all. Though they were merely painted figures, each one seemed startlingly vivid and lifelike.
The Life-reaping Ghost said, "Contract Master, once you find the Penniless Ghost, we can take the shortcut."
The shortcut was a passage used by the minor officials who worked inside the Yama Hall.
Without it, the road was tortuous and treacherous—it might even dead-end halfway, forcing you to double back. And doubling back was the best-case scenario. More often than not, a glance behind would reveal that the path you came from had transformed into a mountain of blades and a sea of fire, a prison of purgatory. One step backward, and it was a road of no return.
Legend in the mortal realm spoke of eighteen layers of hell in the Yellow Springs and Yin Lands.
The legend was true enough—but what no one knew was that those eighteen layers of hell all lay along the branching, dead-end paths leading to the deepest recesses of the Yama Hall.
The shortcut, by contrast, was smooth, straight, and effortless.
Just strolling along the shortcut and watching the wretched souls on the branching paths howl in agony was, in itself, a form of entertainment.
"What does the Penniless Ghost look like?"
Chen Huangpi scanned the Hundred Ghosts Mural for a long time but couldn't identify it.
All these ghosts were hideous. All were terrifying.
None of them looked "penniless."
The Life-reaping Ghost said helplessly, "It's the one that looks the most ordinary, the most honest, the one working the hardest. That's the Penniless Ghost."
Hearing this.
Chen Huangpi swept his gaze across the mural.
And in the very bottom corner, tucked away in the most inconspicuous nook, he found the Penniless Ghost.
"That's the Penniless Ghost?"
Chen Huangpi said in surprise. "It's wearing human clothes. It doesn't even look like a ghost. And it's working so hard pulling the millstone—while none of the other ghosts are doing anything at all. It should be the richest one. How can it be the Penniless Ghost?"
The Life-reaping Ghost said, "Contract Master, you only see it working the millstone with all its might. You haven't noticed the pole strapped to its back—and hanging from that pole is a string of coins."
"So that's the origin of 'money makes the ghost turn the millstone?'"
"Yes. And the crucial part is that it will never reach those coins, no matter how hard it works—not until it drops dead."
The Life-reaping Ghost said with derision, "Because once it dies from exhaustion, other ghosts come along and take the string of coins."
"What if someone takes the coins before it dies?"
"Then the shortcut opens."
Chen Huangpi's eyes lit up with understanding. He reached toward the string of coins dangling in front of the Penniless Ghost.
And he really did feel something solid in his grip—as though he'd genuinely grasped the coins.
He pulled.
The string of coins came free, drawn right out of the mural.
The Penniless Ghost inside the painting froze where it stood—as though it had lost its purpose—and ceased turning the millstone. Then it turned to face Chen Huangpi, bowed deeply, and vanished.
In the next instant.
Chen Huangpi watched as the wall before him rippled like the surface of disturbed water.
A straight, smooth path materialized beneath his feet.
This was the shortcut.
Once he stepped onto it, Chen Huangpi felt a tailwind at his back, as though an invisible force was propelling him forward.
The Life-reaping Ghost laughed heartily. "Contract Master, how does it feel to take the shortcut?"
Chen Huangpi looked at the string of coins in his hand and said, somewhat troubled, "It's smooth and unobstructed, sure. But I feel uneasy in my heart. Without its goal, hasn't the Penniless Ghost lost the very meaning of its existence?"
The Life-reaping Ghost hesitated, then said, "It'll be fine. Its eyes saw nothing but that string of coins. That's why it kept pulling the millstone endlessly, blind to everything else around it. Now that the coins are gone, it has a different fate awaiting it."
"Oh, then it should be thanking me."
Chen Huangpi thought for a moment and added, "But it was only a painted thing on the mural—how could it possibly thank me? Never mind. I'll consider this string of coins its payment."
The Life-reaping Ghost felt a twinge of something complex.
Every Yama Hall had a Hundred Ghosts Mural.
Whenever it used to clock in for duty, it would casually snatch the Penniless Ghost's coins without a second thought—feeling not only that it was perfectly natural, but that it was its right.
After all, the ghost was just a painting.
And even if it had been a living being, so what? Taken was taken.
But Chen Huangpi was different. He was still a child, with few experiences in life, and his thoughts remained achingly sincere.
'Perhaps I'm the Penniless Ghost too.'
The Life-reaping Ghost thought of its own origins, of how it had trained relentlessly and clawed its way into a clerkship at the Yama Hall—all to prove that without that trivial blood relation, it could still earn respect on its own merits.
But now, after all this time.
It suddenly realized that the string of coins dangling before its own face had long since disappeared.
"My father... that Yama also had a string of coins hanging before his head."
The Life-reaping Ghost sighed. "His string of coins was the Yin Emperor. He was loyal to the Yin Emperor to the end. When the Yin Emperor died, so did he. His eyes held nothing but those coins—he never once had room for my mother, nor for me..."
"Yamas have strings of coins too? I didn't see one."
Chen Huangpi glanced around the grand hall. On the dragon throne sat the headless corpse of the Yama, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find any string of coins.
"Contract Master..."
The Life-reaping Ghost cried in alarm, "You just stepped onto the shortcut—how have you already reached the Grand Yama Hall?"
Chen Huangpi said, "A shortcut is a shortcut. If it took a long time, would it still be called a shortcut?"
From the moment he'd set foot on the shortcut, every step had carried him forward with immense momentum.
Only ten or so steps, and he'd walked straight into the grand hall itself.
On either side of the hall stood statues of every manner of netherworld official.
Ox-Head and Horse-Face. Black and White Impermanence. Judges and clerks. Day and Night Patrol Gods. Every kind imaginable.
It looked exactly like an assembled court in session.
Except that every last one of them had been beheaded.
Otherwise, Chen Huangpi would have sworn he was being watched from all sides.
Just then, the Golden Horn spoke up. "Yellow-Skin Dad, the path to the mortal world is right here in this grand hall! Let me out—I'll smash it open with my horn in no time!"
"Right!"
Chen Huangpi focused his mind. The Soul-Hooking Manual flashed with spectral light.
The Golden Horn's fierce, savage soul-form materialized inside the grand hall.
It was still daytime, and there were no evil spirits lurking in the hall, so there was nothing to fear.
Chen Huangpi's heart raced with excitement.
The thought that he was about to return to the mortal world made him break into an irrepressible grin.
But when the Golden Horn swung its head in a full circle and aimed its heaven-defying horn at the headless Yama corpse seated on the dragon throne—one front hoof scraping the ground, coiling power for a devastating charge—Chen Huangpi's smile froze solid.