Chapter Twenty-One: The Record of White Scrolls

For the final roar of the ghostly entity, Liu Chen paid no mind; lacking the foundation of an altar, it could accomplish nothing. Turning to look at Lu Changcheng, the Daoist, he saw the man quietly sneaking out of the backyard, entirely devoid of the anger and shock he had shown when rebuking Liu Chen moments before. Liu Chen found this amusing; of all the Spirit Treasure Daoists from the Lu family he had encountered, whatever else might be said, their instinct for self-preservation was unrivaled—each one was more adept at fleeing than the last.

But now, as Lu Changcheng tried to escape, it was already too late. Liu Chen leapt down from the altar, crossed the distance in a few strides, and seized Lu Changcheng just as he reached the edge of the rear courtyard.

With a forceful swing, Liu Chen threw him to the ground, headfirst. The He family was rather wealthy, so the ground had been carefully rolled with stones, making it as hard as any. Lu Changcheng’s head struck the ground, instantly opening a bloody gash; clutching his head, he moaned in pain.

“Stop your whining! Or you’ll regret it!”

Seeing Lu Changcheng make such a racket, Liu Chen suspected he was using the noise to summon others, so he barked a threat.

“You hit me so hard my head’s split open; am I not allowed to moan? Besides, I dismissed the He family’s servants when preparing the altar—no one will come now, so you can rest easy.”

Carefully rubbing his head and tidying his hair, Lu Changcheng spoke to Liu Chen as if it were perfectly reasonable, even explaining himself further when he noticed Liu Chen’s wary expression.

Witnessing this sudden composure, Liu Chen felt irked. Without even a hint of fear, how was he to pressure Lu Changcheng into revealing what he wanted?

“Must I resort to torture?” Liu Chen thought, sizing up Lu Changcheng.

As the saying goes, the eyes reveal the heart’s intent. While Liu Chen was contemplating how to deal with him, a trace of menace appeared in his gaze. Lu Changcheng, skilled at reading people, immediately understood Liu Chen’s purpose. He sat up halfway and addressed him:

“Ask what you wish, and if I can answer, I won’t hide it. What I cannot say, no matter what methods you have—even those used by the capital’s prison interrogators—you won’t force it from me.”

Liu Chen was amused by his words. He scrutinized Lu Changcheng, who appeared to be about thirty, carrying a certain dignity. Even now, bloodied and covered in dirt, he retained a measure of composure, which was impressive. Yet, from his calm and ordinary features, Liu Chen could not imagine him as the steadfast type who would die before yielding. He doubted the man’s resolve.

He sneered coldly and said, “I know nothing of the prison interrogators’ methods, though I suppose they’re more accomplished than I. But if you don’t fear interrogation, do you fear death? Or do you truly believe I won’t kill you?”

Liu Chen lacked any special talent for reading people, but after living more than twenty years, he knew a few things: There are those in this world who do not fear death, but the cleverer and more distinguished a person is, the more he cherishes his life. He simply didn’t believe that this man, who even in capture maintained his poise, was unafraid to die.

“Heh, you see clearly—I am indeed a man who fears death. But what you can kill is only this mortal flesh. I am a Fate Master, recorded in the White Register. Even if I die, I can be reborn in the Celestial Realm. Though I’d be at the lowest rank there, I’d still live another three hundred years.

Of course, the Celestial Realm, wondrous as it is, cannot compare to the vibrancy of the human world. If what you ask isn’t some grave matter that violates family law and merits death, then even if I suffer some punishment, I can tell you. After all, it’s my own weakness that led to my capture.”

Seeing Liu Chen’s anger, Lu Changcheng showed no fear, speaking in a relaxed tone.

After hearing this, Liu Chen became frustrated. By Lu Changcheng’s logic, he could only ask what the man allowed, else his efforts would be wasted. If Liu Chen accepted these terms, he likely wouldn’t learn much; when questioning Lu Qingzong, even with a great advantage, the other managed to conceal much. If Lu Changcheng took the initiative here, not only would he hide key information, he might keep the whole matter secret.

With this thought, Liu Chen’s expression turned uncertain, while Lu Changcheng appeared more at ease, though he restrained himself out of consideration for Liu Chen’s mood.

But at that moment, Liu Chen suddenly realized he had fallen into Lu Changcheng’s trap. All his thoughts followed the man’s logic, yielding only the answers Lu Changcheng wished to give.

The most crucial point in Lu Changcheng’s words was the so-called White Register that allowed him to reincarnate in the Celestial Realm. Liu Chen had no idea how this White Register worked, but judging from his speech, it was nothing more than a means of rebirth.

According to Liu Chen’s understanding, reincarnation always hinged on the soul. His own Netherworld Spirit Flame was its nemesis. Whatever other marvels the White Register possessed, its foundation would not differ; thus, Liu Chen did not believe that, under his Spirit Flame, Lu Changcheng could safely reincarnate in the Celestial Realm.

Having broken free of the mental cage Lu Changcheng had constructed, Liu Chen no longer felt led by the nose. He fixed Lu Changcheng with a cold gaze and said:

“I’ll ask you two things. What happens to the Heaven’s Net Array after your altar is lost? Where is Lu Qingcai now? Answer, and you’ll live. Refuse, and I’ll kill you here and see how you reincarnate under my Netherworld Spirit Flame!”

As he spoke, Liu Chen ignited the spirit flame in his eyes, his gaze turning pitch-black and deadly, locking onto Lu Changcheng to see how he would respond.

Those dark eyes were eerie enough, and with Liu Chen’s formidable strength, Lu Changcheng was left stammering, unable to answer.

Seeing the man still harboring hopes, Liu Chen did not wait, slowly raising his right hand and clenching it into a fist.

Lu Changcheng had witnessed the power of Liu Chen’s fists; a normal strongman was crushed with one blow. If he were struck, even without Liu Chen using full force, death would be inevitable.

And those twin spirit flames in Liu Chen’s eyes reminded Lu Changcheng that one misstep could mean utter annihilation.

“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you, all right?”