In the rear hall of the Houtu Great Hall.
Shen Zhi arrived at the entrance through a combination of short-distance teleportation and a hurried trot. He immediately slowed his pace and walked inside.
A significant number of people were already standing within the hall. Shen Zhi scanned the room; aside from the two great deities, Lord Yan and Lord Yama, as well as Lady Nü Yi—whom he had only seen three times since entering the Underworld—all the other Underworld executives were present.
Shen Zhi walked to the section reserved for the Order Officials, bowed toward the main sanctuary of the Houtu Great Hall, and took his seat.
“Brother Shen, Brother Shen, have you made up your mind about what Lord Yan discussed with you today?” Xin Sheng, a fellow Order Official from the Hall of Soul Retrieval, tugged at Shen Zhi’s sleeve.
“I haven’t decided yet, but there’s no rush.” Before Shen Zhi could finish his sentence, the two venerable gods, Lord Yan and Lord Yama, appeared in the hall. Everyone rose in haste to pay their respects.
Lord Yan and Lord Yama first bowed toward the main sanctuary of the Houtu Great Hall before taking their respective seats.
Lord Yan signaled for everyone to sit and spoke plainly. “I have summoned you all today to discuss an important matter. A millennium ago, Lord Yama and I jointly established the Underworld, creating the Halls of Soul Retrieval and Judgment to guide and transform souls. Only then did the Underworld take its current form. However, over these thousands of years, the cycles of life and death in the mortal realm have accelerated. The ghosts in the Underworld are increasing in number, and the previously established ghost cities are filled to capacity. Lord Yama and I feel that this cannot continue.”
At this point, Lord Yan glanced at Lord Yama, who was nodding emphatically. Lord Yan felt a slight throb in his temples. Lord Yan and Lord Yama were originally fellow disciples who relied on the divine power of the Sovereign of the Earth, Empress Houtu, to overawe the Underworld and create this realm.
Abandoning the pleasantries he had prepared, Lord Yan said, “Therefore, Lord Yama and I have deliberated and decided to establish a new department to resolve this issue.”
Ghost Emperor Fei Kang could not help but ask, “Since the two venerable gods have considered this, we shall naturally obey. However, I wonder what this new department will be called and how it will manage its affairs?” As the head of the Hall of Judgment, Fei Kang oversaw the Underworld’s documents and legal codes; he was naturally very concerned.
“The Hall of Reincarnation.”
***
A’jiao entered the hall and walked forward in the direction indicated by the ghost guard at the door.
In truth, she didn't even need directions. Once inside the hall doors, there was only a single long corridor.
At the end of the corridor was another large hall. Two ghost guards in yellow robes stood on either side of the entrance, each holding a dark, heavy staff.
The walls of the hall were made of an unknown material that resembled mirrors, reflecting the forms of those who passed. However, the colors reflected were different for every ghost. Some were white, some gray, and others red.
“Stop pushing! Line up properly and move one by one!” a ghost guard barked as several ghosts began to jostle at the entrance. He used his staff to shove them aside. The moment the ghosts touched the staff, they slumped over as if struck by lightning, their energy instantly sapped.
A’jiao was startled. She remembered that Lord Shen, the official who had come to retrieve her soul, also carried a similar staff, though it was much smaller—about the thickness and length of the chopsticks she used to use, tied with a cord.
As A’jiao walked forward, she suddenly couldn't help but shiver. Looking up, she saw that the previously orderly hall was now densely packed with ghosts. Every single one was covered in blood, with green faces and protruding fangs. Some ghosts appeared to have been sliced in half at the waist; their upper bodies floated in the air while blood slowly dripped from their torsos onto the floor.
“Give me back my life! Give me back my life!” Their cries were shrill and agonizing, pushing A’jiao to the brink of collapse. She wanted to run, but she could neither move nor make a sound. She could only watch as the blood from the ghosts pooled on the floor and began to crawl up her body, rising higher and higher until it covered her mouth and nose.
“Help!” she suddenly screamed. When she opened her eyes again, she was facing two ghost guards who were handing her a red token.
A’jiao took the token and followed the line ahead as if fleeing for her life, not daring to look back.
In that moment when she was surrounded by the horde of ghosts, she had seen someone.
Someone she knew.
Chu Fu.
A’jiao gripped the token, her body trembling uncontrollably.
A few steps further were three small doors. Several ghost guards stood watch at the entrances, while two others paced along the lines, shouting, “White tokens in the middle, gray tokens to the left, red tokens to the right!”
Still shaking, A’jiao stood obediently in the line on the right. Only then did she look at the token in her hand. It was engraved with a single number: 478.
A’jiao’s heart shuddered again.
She suddenly remembered. That was the number of people executed during the witchcraft scandal all those years ago.
***
“Alright, Guantao, stand still. You’re making my head spin with all that pacing.” Empress Dowager Bo beckoned to Liu Piao, who was circling the room, and told her to sit down.
Princess Guantao hurried to Bo’s side. “Grandmother, I’m so worried about Jiao-jiao.”
Since the passing of Empress Dowager Dou, and having witnessed her daughter’s deposition, Guantao’s temperament had lost some of its fire. She had only been in the Underworld for two years, but she had coaxed Empress Dowager Bo into doting on her quite a bit; even Liu Heng’s opinion of her had improved.
Liu Wu quickly comforted his elder sister. “Don't be afraid, Sister. If A’jiao truly has sins to atone for, we’ll just give them all her funerary offerings. Wasn't that what we did back then? Don't worry.”
Guantao turned and sighed. “But I’m just afraid that brat Liu Che didn't give A’jiao any decent burial goods!”
“It surely wouldn't come to that.” When Liu Wu passed away, Liu Che was still a child. “I remember Che-er was filial and sweet-talking back then. For the sake of the Empress Dowager and you, Sister, he couldn't have just buried A’jiao haphazardly.”
Guantao shot a glare at Wang Zhi and remained silent. *Hmph.* When she passed away, she had feared that Chen Xu and Chen Jiao would neglect A’jiao, so she specifically instructed Liu Che that a certain sum of money was reserved solely for her daughter. Yet, after her two unfilial sons arrived in the Underworld, they met her once and cried about how Liu Che had confiscated all their family wealth—including the money she left for A’jiao.
Whether the money she had worked so hard to save for her daughter ever reached A’jiao’s hands was something she was now uncertain of! She had clearly never told Chen Xu or Chen Jiao about that money!
***
After passing through another long corridor, A’jiao followed the line into a room. At the front sat a red-robed ghost official behind a desk. A dozen ghost guards stood along the walls.
The ghosts who entered stood quietly in order, none daring to act out.
The red-robed official called them forward one by one. When a name was called, the ghost would step up and hand their token to him.
The official would take the token and place it upon a book on the desk. A page that was originally blank would then reveal writing.
A’jiao stood far away and couldn't see the words on the book, but she could hear the official pronouncing sentences upon the ghosts before him, one after another.
It seemed that all the ghosts holding red tokens were guilty.
Penal servitude, frying in oil, the punishment of blades...
As A’jiao listened, she felt her heart sinking lower and lower.
It seemed her grandmother was right: if a person does evil, even if men do not punish you, Heaven and Earth will.
There was no escape.
“Chen Ajiao!” the official called.
A’jiao hurried forward and handed over her token.
She had stopped trembling now. She only wondered if she would ever see her mother and the others again... she had only just managed to see them once more.
The official took the token and placed it on a blank page. He pronounced the sentence: “Hard labor, four hundred and seventy-eight years.” He then looked up at A’jiao. “You have a certain amount of funerary offerings that can offset forty years of your sentence. Do you wish to use them?”
Offset the sentence? Such a thing was possible?
A’jiao was silent for a moment before asking cautiously, “If I don't use them, will the offerings still be there?”
“Yes, but you must inspect and verify them now and hand them over to us for safekeeping. You will only receive them after you have completed your labor.”
She realized that she was likely being sentenced to one year for every person who died in the witchcraft case. Forty years represented forty lives! “I will not use them to offset the sentence.”
The official made a note in the ledger and said, “Go to the left to have your offerings appraised and registered. A ghost guard will then lead you away.”
