Chapter 9: Ksitigarbha Becomes a Buddha

Meng Po led Qin Ye onto the bridge.

A profound silence filled the air. Standing before such a vast Bridge of Forgetfulness, one could not help but feel a reverent awe at the boundless expanse of the heavens and earth. One could only imagine the grandeur of the scene when, in days past, the bridge was crowded with wandering souls, ox-headed and horse-faced guardians dancing together in a spectacle of tumultuous magnificence.

They walked along the edge, and Meng Po gently stroked the stone beast carved into the railing. After a long moment, she sighed. “Boy, look down.”

Cautiously, Qin Ye stretched out his head, as if wishing he could make his neck a meter long.

“Where is your fearlessness as an underworld civil servant?” Meng Po rebuked.

“I’m afraid of heights,” Qin Ye replied innocently.

Meng Po was speechless. What kind of civil servant had she recruited? Afraid of death, afraid of heights, slippery as an eel—did he have any redeeming qualities at all?

Gripping the railing with both hands, Qin Ye took a single glance and gasped sharply.

Below… lay a barren wasteland. Not barren by nature, but strewn with scattered ruins, the ground littered with countless red lanterns now extinguished. Gigantic boulders lay fallen like a meteor shower across the open plain. He even saw an immense skeletal corpse!

He couldn’t say what it was, nor its true size—like a serpent, its abdominal bones clearly visible, stretching from the depths of the swirling mist and vanishing at the edge of his sight. The world beneath the bridge was as if a great beast had ravaged a city, leaving only devastation in its wake.

Meng Po’s claw-like fingers clutched the stone beast atop the bridge, her voice hoarse. “Once, the waters of the River of Forgetfulness roared below. Also called the Yellow Springs.”

“But now, there is nothing left… Do you know what that serpent-like thing is called?” She closed her eyes, pain flickering across her face. “It is called the Candle Dragon—also known as Candle Nine Yin. If you had come five hundred years earlier, you would have seen a burned-out candle, the Candle Dragon holding a lantern in its jaws—once the only source of light in the underworld. But now it is gone, and the lamp extinguished… The underworld has become what you see before you.”

So that was why, upon arrival, darkness and mist had pervaded the land?

Qin Ye stood gaping, stunned by the endless fog around him. The ferryman had vanished, Meng Po had come alone to the world of the living, and even the Candle Dragon had departed!

In the lonely wind, the lament of the dead and the scent of ruin drifted by.

What on earth had happened to the underworld?

“Are you wondering what happened here?” Meng Po seemed to read his mind. “Actually… it’s not just the Candle Dragon. The entire underworld… was emptied a hundred years ago.”

She waved her hand, and the mists before them slowly began to part. Thinner and thinner… Minutes passed, and Qin Ye, mouth agape, stumbled back a step, incredulous, staring at the far end of the Bridge of Forgetfulness.

“There lies Fengdu City—the heart of the underworld. Or rather… it once was,” Meng Po said, her back hunched and voice trembling.

Qin Ye could hardly believe his eyes.

Where Fengdu City should have stood, now ten thousand rays of Buddha’s light blazed! A colossal golden Buddha towered to the heavens!

Its true size or height was unknowable. A lotus bloomed on its brow, a double-ringed monk’s staff in its hand. The sky was high, the earth vast; countless rootless golden lotuses sprouted and withered in the void, forming an endless Buddhist realm within the underworld.

With a sweep, the golden Buddha’s countless rays of light spread from its hands, sweeping through the clouds and mists. Wherever the light passed, every soul on the Bridge of Forgetfulness vanished in an instant!

Fengdu City had been remade into a statue of the Buddha?

Utterly absurd!

The mists surged again, shrouding the statue from sight. Only then did Qin Ye come back to himself, shaken. Suddenly, as if enlightened, he murmured, “Not until hell is empty… shall I become a Buddha?”

“Is that… the statue of Kṣitigarbha?” he whispered.

If the underworld had a bodhisattva, it could only be Kṣitigarbha—one of the Four Great Bodhisattvas.

“It is indeed Lord Kṣitigarbha,” Meng Po said, her hair swirling as she gazed solemnly at Qin Ye. “You are right… Not until hell is empty, shall I become a Buddha… But now the statue stands, and he has already attained Buddhahood. Do you understand what that means?”

Qin Ye blinked, cold sweat beading down his spine.

Hell is empty… Kṣitigarbha has become a Buddha…

Who now rules the underworld?

As if seeing his thoughts, Meng Po gave a hoarse laugh. “No one… Little one… For a full century, there has been no order in the underworld.”

Boom!

The words struck like thunder, dispelling all confusion. Suddenly, everything fell into place in Qin Ye’s mind.

Kṣitigarbha became a Buddha… The underworld emptied. So even the Candle Dragon and the Ferryman had left their posts. Homeless souls began battering at the barriers between the worlds of the living and the dead. Thus, supernatural events in the mortal world became commonplace.

He could not imagine the grandeur of Kṣitigarbha’s ascension, but the Judge’s Seal must have been shattered in the upheaval, its fragments scattered in the human realm.

His mind buzzed. Meng Po gazed at the empty Bridge of Forgetfulness and said softly, “You should be grateful. Kṣitigarbha’s Buddhahood delivered countless fiendish spirits from hell—those truly fearsome have already gone with him. But… the Judges, the Magistrates, the Soul Wardens—all the underworld’s civil servants—were taken as well. A flood of souls erupted, too many becoming aimless natural spirits. Yet a rare few, by chance, became true vengeful ghosts.”

“But they dared not act rashly. They feared that the soul-collectors, ghost messengers, and constables of the underworld might surge forth again. Yet… nothing withstands the erosion of time. After a hundred years, they can no longer hold back.”

Meng Po fixed Qin Ye with a stare. “It took me decades to find you. Having eaten the flesh of the Immortal Fungus, you are rejected by both yin and yang, but also coexist in both. Your starting point is far higher than those with mere spiritual sight—you are the best candidate.”

Qin Ye started to speak, but Meng Po shook her head. “You cannot refuse. Once I leave, there will be no divine office left in the underworld. A fence-sitter like you, living between worlds, would die at once. And if you do nothing… The vengeful ghosts from horror films—like Sadako and Miss Chu—will return to the mortal world. It is only a matter of time.”

“Hell is empty; the evil spirits roam the living world.”

Silence fell.

Qin Ye had never imagined the truth would surpass his wildest guesses. It wasn’t a mere standstill—the underworld itself was gone!

He had failed to keep his head down…

Why leave a time bomb in a place of such importance? It was bound to explode eventually.

And now it had. Whether or not he cared, it had affected his life. He was just minding his own business, and disaster fell from the sky. Was it too much to ask for a peaceful existence?

Now he even had to clean up the mess.

“Ahem… What if I say I know nothing of civil engineering…”

Meng Po’s expression turned grave, her tone mournful. “That’s fine, Dog Egg. You have three days left to live.”

Qin Ye cursed inwardly.

He sighed in resignation. “So? What am I to do? Will you help?”

Meng Po forced a bitter smile. “I have held onto this last breath, waiting for the one truly capable of rebuilding the underworld. Now you have come… I will soon depart as well…”

Qin Ye shot her a resentful glare, cutting off her sentimental speech. Composing herself, she said, “Don’t worry… risking your life is for temps. You, at least, are the underworld’s last official civil servant. As long as you’re careful and avoid those beings steeped in heavy yin energy, once you gather the first of the innate treasures, the underworld’s order will begin to restore itself. Your position will be secure.”

“…Are you sure I’ll be safe?”

“…At the very least, you’ve eaten the Immortal Fungus. Can’t you show some of a civil servant’s fearlessness?”

“…Isn’t survival more important than courage?”

He endured—there was no other choice…

Meng Po took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Don’t worry… Wang Chenghao’s father is your most important lead right now. But be extremely careful… Each fragment contains the vast yin energy accumulated over millennia. Any ghost who possesses one will be a true Raksha—fearful of me, but not of you.”

She weighed her words carefully. “As each fragment points to the next, it… will also see you.”

Qin Ye felt his eyelid twitch. Where was the promised ambush? Why had it become a straight-up battle?

His conflicted expression was too genuine. Meng Po fell silent, then reached into the void and produced a golden scroll, tightly bound with a red cord. Yin energy surged within, so intense that Qin Ye’s hair stood on end at the mere touch.

“The Chart of the Six Ghost Kings.” Meng Po’s claw-like hand gripped the scroll. “The underworld was ruled by one emperor, ten courts, eighteen hells, and the six ghost kings. These were the most renowned beings in the underworld—their names alone could strike terror into any spirit. This chart allows you to summon one of the six ghost kings, once.”

A spirit-summoning technique?

Now he understood.

“I hadn’t planned to give it to you now,” Meng Po said, glaring at him in disappointment. “Remember, you only have one chance to summon a ghost king to possess you. Also, I’ve documented everything you need to know about the underworld: the classification of spirits, the civil service ranks, the methods of earning merit—I’ve placed it all beneath your pillow.”

Qin Ye accepted the scroll with care. As he did, he saw golden rays emanate from Meng Po’s body, flickering and fading at once.

These rays were imbued with Buddhist aura, and Meng Po’s expression grew serene. She looked at her own body and sighed. “At last, the time has come…”

Qin Ye seemed to understand. “You…”

“There is the sunlit road for the living, the Bridge of Forgetfulness for the dead. The paths of men and ghosts must part. I have lingered long enough in the living world.” At last, a hint of kindness appeared in Meng Po’s expression. “Little one… don’t pretend anymore. One who has eaten the Immortal Fungus, who has lived as a monster among mortals for so long, could never be as you seem… The identity of the underworld’s last official civil servant is your permission to be yourself…”

“Go now… Return to your world. Great changes are at hand. Don’t disappoint me. Seeking the Judge’s Seal is not only for the underworld, but for yourself as well…”

Before she finished speaking, she had already transformed into a swarm of black butterflies, enveloping Qin Ye and gently lifting him into the air.

The shadowy wind rose, stirring the hair on Qin Ye’s brow. Clutching the Chart of the Six Ghost Kings, he looked back at the underworld. The golden statue of Kṣitigarbha soared into the clouds; everywhere else, black clouds swirled over a landscape of ruin.

So it was time to leave…

“I… really hate trouble,” he said, his tone turning cool and distant as he looked bitterly at the scroll in his hand. “After finally living peacefully for decades, cultivating myself, why did that stubborn old woman have to come and upend everything?”

“Couldn’t she just let me hide under the tower in peace?”

He shook his head. Amid the fluttering black butterflies, his figure rose higher and higher. His gaze grew more distant. He looked back over Fengdu City and the Bridge of Forgetfulness. As his eyes fell upon the bridgehead’s giant skeleton, something made him pause.

Hair.

A surging tide of hair, vast as a tsunami, spread from the abyss the moment Meng Po vanished, rushing madly toward the Bridge of Forgetfulness!