Chapter 8: The Seal of Yama

This waterfall of the Underworld was so grand and magnificent; the number of lingering souls in the mortal world exceeded a hundred thousand. Once they congested at the ferry to the River of Forgetfulness, the cascade of souls continued for dozens of minutes without pause.

Splashing gently, the little boat drifted in the void. Qin Ye kept rowing, yet the ferry seemed forever unable to reach the bridgehead. Time slipped by, second after second, as countless souls rushed toward the ferry like moths to a flame, only to plunge into the abyss below. Twenty minutes, forty minutes passed… then, suddenly, within the torrent of spirits, one soul inexplicably stepped onto the emptiness itself.

At that instant, Grandmother let out a long, sorrowful sigh. Her figure vanished abruptly, a jet-black current of nether energy cutting across the sky, sweeping up that soul and reappearing on the ferry.

“It’s him?” Qin Ye regarded the soul in surprise—a middle-aged man, his appearance utterly unscathed. Square-faced with a hooked nose, sparse eyebrows, and even the Armani label could be seen on his meticulously chosen attire.

For someone as powerful as this old woman to go to such lengths… and it turned out to be such an ordinary man?

“That’s right. Some changes have occurred in the Underworld. I can’t pinpoint his exact location—there are too many people in Qingxi County and time is short. All I know is that he died within these seven days and must have come into contact with ‘it.’ Laying in wait for him at the Gates of Ghosts was the best option.” With that, Grandmother thrust her hand into the soul’s chest.

A piercing, desperate scream erupted from the man’s chest, his features contorting in agony. Instantly, an indescribably cold aura surged through the entire ferry!

Boom! Without warning, Qin Ye’s ghostly official uniform snapped taut, blown upright by the force. His eyes widened as he gasped, “My god…”

It was nether energy.

Not all that powerful—yet its quality was unbelievably high!

The ghostly wind howled, the void itself seemed to press downward, and even the monstrous presence lurking beneath the abyss was struck silent. Such nether energy could never belong to a soul newly departed—it was even more terrifying than Grandmother’s own.

What on earth was this? A human? A thousand-year-old wraith?

“Hmph…” At that moment, Grandmother grunted, pulling her hand free and staggering back several steps, sweat pouring from her brow, her hand glowing gold. More disturbingly, her face broke out in countless age spots, as if she had aged decades in an instant.

All sound ceased.

Thump, thump… Qin Ye’s own heartbeat thundered in his ears as he realized he was drenched in cold sweat. He spoke with lingering fear, “A Ghost King?”

Grandmother gazed silently at her hand, finally letting out a bitter laugh. “‘It’ is right here, in this man… I calculated that it was in Qingxi County, yet you could never find it. We could only wait here… wait for the Hungry Ghost Festival, when the Gates of Ghosts open, and the bearer is summoned here…”

Qin Ye blinked, “What is ‘it’ exactly?”

Grandmother was silent for two seconds. “The Seal of Yama.”

“Oh, so it’s—wait!” Qin Ye stared at her as though seeing a ghost himself, incredulous. “The Seal of Yama? The legendary cornerstone upon which the Underworld is built? You managed to lose the very thing you rely on for existence?”

It was a miracle they were still alive…

“What’s that look for? Things aren’t as you imagine,” Grandmother snapped, gasping for breath. “When the Underworld was first established, there were three primordial treasures. The Seal of Yama was one of them.”

“For certain reasons, the Seal was shattered. But all primordial treasures are interconnected—find one fragment, and it will lead you to the others.”

“Wait.” Qin Ye suddenly caught on, pointing to himself. “You’re not harboring some unrealistic fantasy, are you?”

“What do you mean, boy? As the last legitimate official of the Underworld, where is your sense of duty to the ghostly citizens?”

“Damn it… Can’t I just refuse?!”

“You can, Dog Egg. But you have three days of mortal life left.”

Qin Ye’s voice dropped an octave, and survival instinct made him struggle desperately. “…Well then… let’s talk about something reasonable. Can we avoid such nerve-wracking topics? For example… maybe I’m not actually good at puzzle games of high intelligence?”

Grandmother glanced at him. “If the skin is gone, where will the hair attach? Don’t you get it? If the Underworld collapses, you—neither living nor dead, loyal to neither side—will be the first to perish.”

You win!

Qin Ye’s temples throbbed as he turned away. Life, he thought, was like being violated—if you can’t resist, you may as well enjoy it. Now, he was prepared to force a smile and endure.

Ah… no… gentler, please… Grandmother…

“He was just an ordinary man—how could he have come into contact with the Seal of Yama?” Pushing that thought aside, Qin Ye began to scrutinize the soul. He was about to speak when he paused, staring intently.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’ve seen him before.” After a few seconds, Qin Ye pressed his brow, thinking. “That’s… Wang Chenghao’s father?”

“Are you certain?” Grandmother’s expression turned grave.

“I’m sure!” Qin Ye affirmed. “Qingxi County’s richest man, Wang Zemin. I saw him at a parent-teacher meeting—his son Wang Chenghao is in my class.”

“He’s dead? Why haven’t I heard—”

He stopped abruptly, his eyes glimmering with realization.

No… something’s off.

If the wealthiest man in Qingxi County died, it would be huge news—surely all the local press and the internet would be talking. Even if not, Wang Chenghao would have reacted.

But there was nothing. Wang Chenghao’s behavior these past days was nothing like someone who’d just lost his father. Most importantly, a certain conversation replayed in Qin Ye’s mind.

“Qin Ye… do you know how to handle these things?”

“You’re afraid they’ll come after you?”

“It’s not me… actually… something’s just not quite right at home lately…”

Things were getting stranger by the moment.

The Underworld seemed to be at a standstill, the Seal of Yama had fallen into the mortal realm, the Ferryman was dead, supernatural events were erupting among the living… Qin Ye’s previous assumptions were shattered. Whatever had happened in the Underworld was surely more terrifying than a simple halt.

“Let’s go.” Shaking his head, he spoke to Grandmother.

“Hm? Where’s that strong survival instinct you had?”

Qin Ye rolled his eyes. Since resistance was futile, the best course was to act. Was survival instinct really more important than clinging to life?

Clinging to life didn’t mean living like a dog, but rather, surviving under pressure—no matter how dire the odds, to remain unyielding.

“That’s what I appreciate most about you—self-aware,” Grandmother said, taking out a talisman and pressing it to Wang Zemin’s forehead. With a casual twist, the soul was compressed into a paper ball and slipped into Qin Ye’s pocket.

“…Wait, after all that trouble to find him, you’re just dealing with him this casually now?”

“Keep him safe. Your classmate… might be hiding an extremely important ‘key.’ But now is not the time to discuss it.”

With that, she shoved Qin Ye aside and took the oar herself. With a powerful stroke, the ferry sounded its horn once more.

“Earlier… you guessed the Underworld had stopped functioning, didn’t you?”

“Since you’ve passed the qualification test, now I’ll show you the truth of the Underworld—far more terrifying than you ever imagined.”

Under Grandmother’s command, the boat sped forward at an astonishing pace, heading straight into the depths of the void.

No one knew how long it took. From the rift ahead came a thunderous roar, and after more than ten minutes, an enormous woman’s head slowly emerged.

She was beautiful—brows arched like distant mountains, eyes bright as apricots, lips as red as blood, skin like white jade.

Her features were exquisite to perfection—any more would be too much, any less, not enough.

Yet only her head emerged.

Below the neck, there was nothing. Her three thousand strands of hair streamed wildly behind her, and the head, no smaller than the ferry, hung in the air like a human-faced sun—strange and unsettling.

“So, this is the last Ferryman you found?” Her gaze lingered on the departing figures, and after a long time, she sighed. “If the skin is gone, where will the hair attach… Well said indeed…”

“So… with the Underworld gone, what reason do we have to exist?”

“Why struggle unto death—what’s the point?”

“If chaos is coming to the mortal world, let it come. Humans and ghosts walk different paths. Do you really think one person can change anything? Why insist on being that weightless feather?”

She gently shook her head, and the breathtaking head sank back into the abyss.

…

Grandmother rowed the boat gently while Qin Ye sat at the prow. The ferry sped on, plunging into a dense, black mist. With each stroke, the fog parted like water before a staff, the way ahead straight and true.

No one knew how long they traveled before the fog suddenly cleared and a massive bridge appeared before them.

It was a green stone bridge, so wide it stretched for miles—perhaps ten thousand meters across! Its length was lost in the distance, vanishing into the mist.

The entire bridge was built from perfectly cut stone, though weathered with countless black scars. Here and there, something like moss crept from the cracks, telling tales of ages past.

Standing before it, one felt as small as an ant. Qin Ye gazed in awe at the immense bridge disappearing into the mist, and took a deep breath. “Could this be… the Bridge of Helplessness?”

Grandmother’s gaze grew complex as she set down the oar, pointing at the bridgehead. “A hundred years ago, I sat right there, ladling out a spoonful of soup for every lost soul.”

Qin Ye followed her gesture. At the head of the Bridge of Helplessness stood a massive, cracked bronze cauldron, at least a hundred meters tall, engraved with birds, insects, snakes, and four bronze dragons crawling from within, their mouths half a meter above the ground. Below the cauldron was an ancient Eight Immortals table, covered in yellowed paper.

The cauldron remained, the table remained, but the people were gone.

“Legend has it, there’s a Bridge of Helplessness in the Yellow Springs—when you reach it, whoever you are, you can only sigh in despair. At the bridge stands a Ferryman, guiding souls across the River of Forgetfulness. After drinking Lady Meng’s soup, you enter reincarnation,” Qin Ye murmured with feeling. “Those who drink the soup forget all their past lives. If you wish to remember, you must jump into the river and wait a thousand years.”

“With the Ferryman dead, Lady Meng comes to the mortal world for the first time, the entire bridge stands empty, and countless souls are stranded on the far shore… Lady Meng, what truly happened in the Underworld?”

“You don’t seem surprised at all,” Lady Meng observed, watching Qin Ye’s expression. He seemed unsurprised, shocked only by the sight of the legendary bridge.

Qin Ye forced a bitter smile. “When you mentioned the Ferryman bringing souls to you, I guessed your identity. After all, there’s only one place the Ferryman could go.”

Otherwise, did she really think he wouldn’t dare to rise up and resist?

He was a man with some backbone! Three days? So what?

Even with only three days, he’d die standing—never live kneeling!

But!

Here was the crux.

But he truly could not do it; this formidable being could crush him with a wave. What use was resistance?

If there was none, then better to acquiesce than to oppose… and his response had indeed been flawless…