Chapter 49: Messengers of the Underworld

“What does this mean?” he asked with a gentle smile.

“It doesn't mean much. I just want to know your name, but I need to be sure you’ll stand with me.” Cao Youdao smiled back, his eyes unwavering. “Look, it’s simple—just a gentle slice, and his soul is utterly annihilated. I’m not going to kill him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

Of course, it was simple.

To kill Zhang Baoguo would be to stand in total defiance against the government. A deputy prosecutor general… No matter how tolerant the authorities might be, they would never permit such a direct challenge to their authority.

“You have five minutes to decide.” Cao Youdao sat down, lifting his glass and swirling the wine.

Qin Ye was silent.

Killing Zhang Baoguo was the safest course. If he refused, the price he would pay… it was simply too great.

If the mark of Yama was exposed, the other side would stop at nothing to destroy him.

But even without exposure—if he did not accept the other’s terms, tonight would become the night of open conflict between him and Ba’an City’s underworld kingpin.

Every ghost in the room had their eyes fixed upon him. The seconds ticked by. Slowly, Cao Youdao’s smile faded, his expression growing cold.

“I just don’t understand.” At the four-minute mark, he sighed softly, voice tinged with regret. “He’s just a mere mortal. I don’t know how you two crossed paths, let alone why one such as you or I would hesitate over a mortal’s fate.”

At four minutes and thirty seconds, Qin Ye finally spoke, his lips curled in a faint smile. “Shangguan, did you know—even a shut-in has his bottom line…”

“Oh?”

“For example, a young lady’s lace, or a Hatsune pillow—if you damage these things, even the most reclusive nerd will fight to the death to defend them…”

“Sorry, I have no interest in human civilization.”

“Haha… I was only saying.” Qin Ye scratched his head, a look of resignation settling on his face. “I may not be the most upright of men, and I suppose I’m not your average underworld courier either. I do occasionally betray my friends, but to deal with the soul of an old acquaintance of decades, placed right before me, and to be asked to end him with my own hand… That’s truly too much.”

Cao Youdao’s smile disappeared completely; he gently swirled his glass. “So?”

Before the words had faded, a sudden, icy gale erupted around Qin Ye. A flash of silver, a sharp clang—his chain of soul-hooking shot forward, nailing Cao Youdao’s hand to the table, pinning the wooden tablet beneath.

At the same instant, Qin Ye’s form was enveloped in a tide of shadow, surging toward Zhang Baoguo’s soul like a bolt of lightning.

Thunder crashed! The aura of death overwhelmed all, erasing lesser spirits in its wake. In less than half a second, the official regalia of the underworld courier had materialized upon him. His long blade gleamed; the two paper effigies holding Zhang Baoguo’s soul shrieked as they disintegrated to ash.

The underworld arrests—bystanders, stay back!

“Go!!” Whether Zhang Baoguo could hear or not, Qin Ye seized his soul and bellowed, dashing for the exit like a flash of lightning.

On the second floor, Cao Youdao stared, stunned at his hand, the soul-hook chain pinning him through to the tabletop. Yet, not a drop of blood flowed—only endless shadow spreading out.

“I had offered my heart to the shining moon,” he murmured, closing his eyes with a long sigh, “but the moon, alas, shone upon the ditch.”

A deafening crash!

As the final syllable fell, the entire second floor collapsed. A tsunami of shadow, at least ten times more vast than Qin Ye’s, exploded outward, engulfing everything.

All the spirits trembled, prostrating themselves in fear. Amid the swirling black fog, a figure let out a piercing howl, transforming into a streak of black light that shot straight for Qin Ye.

---

Clad in a black robe with overlapping lapels, embroidered with three circular patterns and the hidden sigil of the Truth-Listening, he wore a black, openwork hat symbolizing unity. Pure black shadow coiled from his seven orifices. The only difference—Cao Youdao bore not a ghost-headed saber, but a sword strapped to his back.

“Stand back! The underworld is making an arrest!”

With his furious shout, the sword swept up, and every spirit present was instantly obliterated.

It was a chase between two underworld couriers.

Perhaps, since the founding of the underworld, this was the first time an official soul-hunter had pursued one of its own.

Qin Ye ran like a madman—he knew all too well how powerful the soul-hunter was: if caught, there would be no escape but death. The only chance would be to unleash the mark of Yama, but then, the enemy would pursue him with relentless, reckless fury.

He was beginning to understand: it was the existence of the Yama’s shard that had allowed the other to survive. How could such a man ever let one bearing the mark walk free?

Soon, the center of this storm would shift from Ba’an City to himself, and their attention would be many times more focused on him than it ever was on the city.

Unless he had no choice, he must not use the mark of Yama!

Faster—he had to be faster! Every ghost in the corridor froze as he burst out, then, with wild shrieks, they charged at him.

One by one, the corridor lights snuffed out behind him. A surge of shadow pursued him, a cold gleam aimed at his heart—like death itself stalking through the darkness.

“Out of my way!” Qin Ye’s saber flashed, one hand clutching Zhang Baoguo’s soul, the other wielding his blade like a flurry of midnight blossoms. No spirit could stand against him. He darted into the elevator ahead of the pack.

Faster… his eyes were bloodshot. He slammed his fist against the panel; with a hum, the display flashed: -6. The doors closed and the car shot upward.

-5, -4… but before he could catch his breath, at -3, the elevator ground to a halt.

“Naive.” Cao Youdao’s voice echoed from every direction. “This is my domain—no one leaves or stays without my permission. Did you really think you could just come and go at will?”

Heh… Qin Ye wanted nothing more than to give Zhang Baoguo’s soul a good shake. He’d always thought himself selfish, betraying Wang Chenghao without a second thought. Who would’ve guessed he’d suddenly risk it all to save Zhang Baoguo?

But if given another chance, he’d likely do the same.

“So the core values of socialism have seeped into my soul…” he muttered wryly, gripping his saber tight. In the next instant, the lights atop the elevator turned a ghastly green.

The entire cabin filled with a chilling wind, biting to the bone. Any human witnessing this would have screamed in terror.

On every mirrored wall, vivid red streaks began to appear.

As if a ghostly hand had traced them, straight lines slashed across every surface. Where his reflection once was, a deep corridor now stretched out, no lights, only those ghastly green flames casting flickering shadows. Black clouds howled like beasts, and from every mirror, a figure flashed forth, sword aimed at his throat.

It was a sword.

The next moment, Cao Youdao’s reflection appeared in every mirror, clear and unmistakable. In that instant, Qin Ye suddenly crouched, sweeping his saber in a wide arc, heedless of what he struck. Instantly, pain exploded in his shoulder.

His vision went black, then cleared.

Blood poured from his shoulder, but he had no time to tend to it. In the mirror, Cao Youdao’s form defied belief—feet planted on the ceiling, he clung upside-down within the mirrored world.

“Do you know… they say at two-thirty in the morning, if you comb your hair before a mirror, you see your past life.” He lifted his sword, sure of his victory. “Since ancient times, mirrors have bridged the realms of yin and yang. And now, here, I see your next life.”

“Your next life… is a blank slate.”

Before the words had finished, a dozen mirrors reflected a dozen Cao Youdaos lunging, their swords aimed at the crown of Qin Ye’s head. The talismans on the walls flared wildly, the lamps flickered with long, ghostly flames.

---

There was no escape…

From the first blow, Qin Ye sensed the overwhelming power of his foe—the gap between them was vast. An underworld courier was a mere village official; a soul-hunter, the rank of county magistrate—an entirely different level.

The sword had yet to touch him, but the pressure tore his uniform apart, shrieking as rifts opened along the seams. He bit down, no longer hesitating—the shard of Yama’s mark exploded within him!

A violent surge of darkness rocked the entire elevator. Seconds later, the talismans stilled, and the numbers on the display began to rise again.

-2, -1… 1!

With a chime, the doors slid open. Gasping for breath, Qin Ye stumbled out, letting out a long sigh. Behind him, every mirror in the elevator had shattered, exposing the pitch-black wall beneath.

Talismans drifted like snow. Ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder, he released Zhang Baoguo’s soul, watching it float gently into the air.

At the same time, six levels below, Cao Youdao stood stunned, sword trembling in his grasp, staring at the empty elevator shaft.

He escaped?

A mere underworld courier… had slipped through his fingers?

No… that was not the point. What mattered was that, in the final moments, an utterly terrifying power had erupted from the other’s body. That power—he knew it all too well.

“A relic shard!” His hand trembled around the sword as he roared hoarsely, “That’s a relic from the underworld!”

“He has a shard too!”

“No wonder… no wonder he dared to come here so brazenly… I was always puzzled how he’d survived the destruction of the underworld! But do you really think you can escape Ba’an City?”

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the blood-red glare had faded; shadow swirled about him, but his appearance returned to that of a successful man, lips curled in a cold sneer. “I told you… only we can see each other.”

“Wherever you run, to the ends of the earth—I will find you!”

Qin Ye had already restored his ordinary appearance. He wore what had once been a white t-shirt, now soaked in blood; checking his phone, it was still three in the morning.

“I knew it… I shouldn’t have stayed so long in human society…”

“To think I even entertained the idea of saving someone… Little Qin, you’re in real danger now…”

“If you want to survive, the first rule is to turn a blind eye. How could you be so reckless?”

Muttering self-reproach, he dragged his leaden legs upstairs.

Old Liu was just a medium.

Second floor, third floor… As he reached the third, a student’s shriek rang out—“A ghost!”—followed by the sound of frantic footsteps fleeing.

Qin Ye glanced down at himself, wry smile on his lips. His shirt was drenched in blood, the lights were dim, and he limped as he walked. He really did look… just like something out of a ghost story…