Chapter 3: Escort to the Netherworld

His neck had gone stiff, and the blood falling onto the crown of his head grew heavier. In the pitch-black classroom, he raised his head mechanically and shone his phone’s light upward.

The dim, flickering beam revealed, just inches above him, a maw gaping nearly a foot wide, lined with jagged, broken teeth, set in deathly pale skin—right above his own head.

A shrill, piercing screech erupted as the monstrous mouth lunged down at him.

From behind, it looked like a naked, ghastly white child was clinging to Qin Ye’s head, sinking its teeth into him.

“Aaaahhh!” Zhang Yilong and Wang Chenghao let out blood-curdling screams, their eyes rolling back as they both fainted in terror.

But there was no sound of teeth meeting flesh, no snap of bone.

Qin Ye, his back to the others, had brought his right arm over his head, gripping a silver ceremonial rod, lotus blossoms at both ends, just in time to jam it between the child’s jaws.

“Mmm… mmmph!” The grotesque child writhed, its enormous mouth trying to close, but the rod was an effortless barrier, holding it wide open.

Qin Ye’s expression was wholly unlike his usual self—there was mockery in his eyes, a cold indifference. Smiling faintly, he murmured, “Finally, you’ve come out…”

“I’ve hunted you for so long, played the fool for so long—you finally lost patience…”

Boom!

Before he’d finished, a gust of shadowy wind surged from Qin Ye, visible even in the darkness. At the same time, a voice of authority resounded within the black gale: “Underworld Escort! All bystanders, stand clear!”

Whoosh! A storm erupted in the classroom, blasting visible waves of dust and debris outside, sending the window curtains flapping madly.

In the instant the wind rose, the child’s abyssal eyes contracted in terror.

Do ghosts have bodies? Perhaps, for now, as the child’s form was shrouded in swirls of black mist. But before him, an even denser aura of darkness formed a whirling vortex, utterly enveloping Qin Ye.

Terrifying… The child’s entire body trembled. This sensation felt etched into his soul—a crushing suppression of rank.

Yes… he’d heard of this kind of suppression before… This was…

Suddenly, his body shuddered violently as he let out a piercing shriek and bolted toward the exit. “An Underworld Envoy! It’s an envoy! The gates of hell have opened! The envoy has come to claim a soul!”

He spun around, ignoring the rod still jammed in his mouth, seized by a terror a thousand times greater than that of Wang Chenghao and Zhang Yilong.

How could it be an envoy?

The underworld’s envoys hadn’t appeared in a hundred years! But that didn’t matter—any envoy was an official, and dealing with wild ghosts like him was child’s play.

Crash! The previously sealed doors and windows all flew open at once. The ghostly spirit darted madly for the exit, but in that instant, a flying chain shot out from behind, as if it had eyes, latching precisely onto the rod in the child’s mouth.

At the tip of the chain was a ghostly hand, the entire chain forged of silvery links. As it caught its target, intricate characters glowed along its length, a flash and a wail, and the frenzied child’s spirit was yanked to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

“Underworld escort—did you think you could run?” The calm voice sounded behind him. The chain tightened, and the child, whimpering, was dragged back through the air, defying all laws of physics. The classroom door slammed shut.

Tables were smashed aside in a clatter, and with a metallic clang, the chain and the silver rod snapped back. At the same time, the child’s body exploded into wisps of shadow, shooting into the corners, and a voice, thick with venomous hatred, rasped, “Underworld escort, Soul-Reaper’s capture… An envoy… There’s still a real envoy in this world!”

At the center of the classroom, a storm of black wind spun into a vortex, then burst apart. Qin Ye stood there, face pale, clad in a black robe with a diagonal collar, three round medallions embroidered with the black-and-white listening hound, a soul-capturing chain at his waist, and a black, openwork official’s cap on his head. Dark energies poured from his sleeves and lapels, causing his robe to billow as if in a wind, exuding an aura of silent authority.

His hand rested lightly on the hilt at his waist. “Name yourself, wandering ghost.”

No answer. After a few seconds, the venomous voice spoke again: “It’s been a hundred years since the underworld concerned itself with the living. Why make an exception now?”

Swish… Qin Ye drew his long blade, running his finger along the edge. “Then tonight, the rules change.”

“You!” The voice shrieked, and at once, the windows and doors burst open as a gale howled through.

“Hey now, I’m certified for this job—I’m a civil servant of the underworld… Leaving so soon? Aren’t you being a bit too dismissive of authority?”

Qin Ye’s words were almost casual. Then, with a soft sound, his blade flashed like snow.

Everything stopped.

A single, mournful scream—so faint it was almost silent, or perhaps already drowned in the rain. Upon the ghost-headed blade, the spirit of a child’s face dissolved into black mist, slipping silently into the blade’s hilt, where a green flame flared, then snuffed out.

Qin Ye frowned, eyes closed, as if sensing something. After a few moments, he sighed. “Not the one…”

“In this ‘hunting ground,’ it still hasn’t appeared. Is that old crone playing with me? Promised a promotion, but I haven’t even seen its shadow. I’ve already exorcised three vengeful spirits this month, all for free—am I just doing unpaid labor?”

Just then, his eyes flashed and narrowed as he peered out the window.

From his vantage, the room was utterly dark, the outside unable to see in, but he could see clearly. In the pouring rain, a hunched, black-clad man with a cane was limping toward the building.

Him again. Qin Ye pulled his head back, brows furrowing deeply. The black aura around him vanished in an instant, his robe reverting to plain clothes. He held his breath, stilled his presence, and lay down on the floor, feigning death.

The rain continued to fall, the entire school silent.

Time passed—five minutes, ten, it was hard to say—when a knocking sounded at the door.

Not hurried, not slow.

“Hello. I’m an investigator from the National Special Investigations Bureau, Green Creek County branch, badge number AC-285. May I come in?”

Of course, there was no answer.

After another ten seconds, the voice continued, unhurried, “Well then… sorry to intrude.”

The door was gently pushed open. There was a soft cough, then the leisurely tap of a cane, and the faint rattle of chains beneath heavy clothing.

The man seemed to squat down, his clothing rustling as it brushed the floor. After a pause, he made a call. “It’s me.”

“Yes… No findings. Strange. Three supernatural incidents in Green Creek County, all high-level malevolent spirits, enough that I had to come in person… Yet somehow, all three were exorcised before I arrived…”

“Yes, it’s the same person. The residue is unmistakable. The yin energy is far denser than any ordinary ghost… I’ve never seen yin energy so thick… Understood. I’ll notify City Headquarters if necessary. However, the spirit rated ‘B’ hasn’t harmed anyone yet—it seems… it’s targeting these malevolent spirits. I don’t think we need to alarm anyone just yet…”

“Yes… I’ll handle the scene. Don’t worry…”

As the call ended, Qin Ye heard a faint sigh and the click of a lighter, followed by a strange, pleasant aroma wafting over.

He did not stir, lying as motionless as a hibernating tortoise. Only after a full hour did he crack open his eyes.

The classroom was empty. Tables and chairs had been restored to their original order. On the podium, a mound of ashes still radiated residual warmth.

Qin Ye pinched a bit of ash and sniffed it, letting out a derisive snort. “Forgetfulness Incense.”

“Smell this and you won’t remember a thing tomorrow. If I recall correctly… it’s made from rare materials—the old crone said she doesn’t have much of it either. And this guy… just uses it casually, all for ‘scene management’? That’s a bit extravagant.” He glanced thoughtfully at the door. “Ever since I exorcised the first vengeful spirit, he’s been tracking me, clinging like a stray dog… He should count himself lucky—if his time were up, I’d have sent him down for a rest by now.”

He walked over to Zhang Yilong and Wang Chenghao, showing no pity as he pried open their mouths and checked their eyes, then tossed them aside like deflated balls.

“The good die young, but the wicked live a thousand years…”

He couldn’t linger here. Slipping to the edge of the schoolyard, he vaulted the wall in a single leap, landing beside a bicycle.

The rain had stopped. The streets were deserted; the once-bustling night market, empty since the nationwide alert last week. Only the streetlights kept vigil, casting their lonely glow over Qin Ye’s unhurried silhouette.

Where an Underworld Envoy passes, a hundred ghosts flee—his ride home was peaceful. As he pedaled, his mind worked rapidly: “Judging by what he said, he’s with the government. A ‘B’-rated spirit… so the state is already paying attention to these matters?”

“From the start, something felt off… In our country, how could such superstitions make the daily news? The government must be preparing the public… Has it come to this? Nationwide broadcasts, and special agencies set up? Their emergency response is impressive…”

“How many people know about this now?”

He frowned deeply, gazing at the inky night sky and murmured, “The more people involved, the harder it will be to track ‘it’ down…”

Lost in thought, he soon reached the edge of town. Green Creek County wasn’t large; for decades, all the village burials had been on the slopes of Azure Dragon Mountain, so naturally, a street of funeral shops had sprung up at its foot.

Paper effigies, ceremonial horses, firecrackers, joss paper… The street was narrow, lined with at least twenty mortuary businesses. Not a huge number, perhaps, but for a county seat of only thirty thousand, quite a concentration.

His family’s “Final Affairs” shop was tucked near the back, its name simple and direct. But tonight, he was surprised to see a large crowd gathered outside.

“Little Qin!” an auntie spotted him as he stopped his bike and hurried over. “You’re finally back! Come quick—something’s happened at your house!”