My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 544 – The Underworld Stretches Boundless, Myriad Lineages Academy - Part 2
Li Yuan pressed on.
In the blink of an eye, the scenery shifted.
The narrow, meandering path opened into a vast expanse. A low roar echoed through the air, the sound of flowing water, and beyond the gray mist, a boundless wasteland unfolded.
Off to the side, a dark and sluggish river twisted across the barren plain. The water had a weight to it, almost metallic in nature, and though it churned and rolled, its sound was deep and heavy like a thousand chains being dragged through iron.
Within that flow, countless shadowy figures were being carried avail, ghostly forms drifting with the current.
Li Yuan's heart tightened.
It was the Ghost Lake, but something was different. There was a dull yellow hue mingling in the waters now, something turbid and sickly. It triggered a memory, something from before he crossed into this world, the legendary river of the underworld.
The Yellow Springs.
And beyond the river, rising from the gray horizon, was a mountain. It stretched endlessly, its ridges dotted with strange protrusions, some looked like boulders, others like gravestones. Its peak pierced the low-hanging, ashen clouds above.
It reminded him of another myth. Another name from old tales.
The Mountain of Yearning.[1]
His expression grew solemn.
This wasn’t Yan Yu’s domain. It was something else entirely.
And then another realization struck him.
Long ago, he had lost the ability to enter the ancient ghost street. No matter how much he suppressed the flame within him, he could never step into a ghost domain. Whenever he approached, a membrane of red and black would form, rejecting him.
But now? He had merely suppressed his withered flame a little, and he had entered effortlessly. What did that mean?
It meant the Yang energy in his body, once overwhelming, was now insignificant in the face of the Yin energy here.
This wasn’t just a fusion of the seven taboo-level ghost domains.
This wasn’t even the unification of every ghost domain under heaven.
This was something beyond that, a qualitative shift.
Something new had been born here. A transformed ancient ghost street.
And standing before it, he had no power to resist.
As he stood deep in thought, observing the terrain, a sudden scream pierced the silence.
He snapped his head around.
A man, dressed like a common villager, had been tackled to the ground by a woman in white. A ghost.
She was hunched over him, devouring something unseen, but Li Yuan instantly knew what it was.
She was feeding on his lifespan.
He turned again, eyes scanning the misty street, and saw more chaos unfolding. Terrified townsfolk were running in every direction. The little girl from before was now on the ground, crawling in terror, sobbing so hard her cries tore through the silence like a knife.
These people, clearly, were the ones who had vanished. And in the shadows across the wasteland, ghostly servants lurked.
To them, these living humans were like freshly baked pastries, warm, fragrant, and irresistible. One by one, the ghost servants lunged after them, chasing with eerie hunger.
One of them, a female ghost with blood-smeared cheeks and tattered clothes, fixed her eyes on Li Yuan. Her gait was broken and twitchy, and she began staggering toward him.
Li Yuan stared calmly at her, thinking for a moment. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he pulled out a slip of ghost money marked 1-cash from his equipment box.
He raised it between two fingers, watching the ghost’s reaction in silence.
Instantly, the ghost jolted as if struck by lightning and rushed toward the money in his hand.
Li Yuan gave the note a little wave.
The ghost followed the movement, tilting her head in a slow, unnatural rhythm, mesmerized.
He chuckled. Then he began waving the note more playfully, deliberately exaggerated.
The movement caught the attention of nearby ghosts. Several of them began drifting away from the humans they were hunting and turned toward Li Yuan instead.
Clearly, this measly 1-cash note was more tempting than the living themselves.
More and more ghost servants abandoned their prey and came rushing toward him.
Li Yuan’s grin curled into something a little darker. He was just about to ignite his withered flame and turn it into a blade, ready to cut these ghouls down in one clean sweep when a sudden force hit him.
A terrifying repulsion, crushing from all directions.
The surrounding darkness surged like a deep sea current, and he...he felt like a tiny bubble struggling to rise, only to be crushed by the pressure.
He immediately extinguished the withered flame and steadied himself, quickly flinging the ghost money far into the distance.
The moment the note left his hand, the ghosts lunged after it like starving hounds chasing a bone.
Even ghosts that had been mid-pounce on terrified villagers dropped everything and rushed toward the flying scrap of money.
Li Yuan narrowed his eyes, watching carefully. One of his suspicions had just been confirmed. Ghost money wasn’t just symbolic. It was life.
It was lifespan, crystallized into money.
The old ancient ghost street had a kind of moral code. It only accepted the lifespan of the guilty, those burdened with karmic sin.
But this new ghost street? It took everything. Anyone. No discrimination.
As Li Yuan’s strange method of money-charming ghosts began to work, it caught the attention of those nearby.
Men and women stumbled toward him, calling out desperately.
“Master, save us!”
“Please, sir, help!”
“What is this place?”
“Uncle! Uncle, help me!”
...
A dozen voices blended into a desperate chorus.
“Follow me. Don’t talk, don’t ask questions, and don’t stray too far,” Li Yuan said flatly.
When he was weak, he had focused only on survival. But now that he was strong, if lending a hand could save a few people, he wouldn’t refuse.
That said, if any of them tried to pull moral guilt trips, the kind that started with, You must help us because...he would personally throw them to the ghosts.
Fortunately, in these chaotic times, the people had long since learned not to test their luck. No one tried to lecture him. They followed him in trembling silence, both respectful and terrified.
And so Li Yuan turned, heading deeper into the wasteland.
He held another 1-cash note in hand and began to wave it again.
Each motion pulled ghosts off their victims like puppets on strings. They drifted after him one by one, entranced.
And behind him, more and more people began to follow.
The group trudged on through the endless wasteland.
They didn’t know how far they had gone, only that there was no end in sight.
All around them was the same monotonous gray. The same lifeless landscape. The same heavy, turbid-yellow river that rolled on and on, thick as molten lead.
When Li Yuan glanced back and saw that the number of people behind him had grown considerably, a thought struck him. He summoned his withered flame, not as a weapon, but as a boundary, channeling his domain force to push it outward in a circle about a mile wide, radiating a pale, ashen light.
The moment that light flared into existence, the surrounding Yin energy surged in from all sides, squeezing tightly around them.
Then, with a soft pop, like a bubble being pricked, the entire group was spat out of that ghostly realm.
When they opened their eyes again, they were back surrounded by the living noise of a busy human marketplace.
Civilians in the market stared, stunned, at the crowd that had seemingly appeared out of thin air.
And those who had just been rescued from the ghost realm stood frozen in disbelief, their eyes wide, overwhelmed to the point of speechlessness.
Without a word, Li Yuan slipped away.
Only after a moment did the newly returned survivors realize what had just happened and who had saved them. One by one, they dropped to their knees, palms pressed together in silent reverence. But even as they knelt, it occurred to them that they didn’t even know the name of their mysterious benefactor.
In that vast land where so many had gone missing, Li Yuan continued to search.
Wherever he sensed a pocket of devouring Yin energy, he suppressed his Yang energy and stepped inside.
Again and again, he entered the ghost realm. And again and again, he brought people out.
He wandered through the boundless wasteland, but the scenery never changed. Not even slightly.
Before long, he had burned through all 30 of the 1-cash notes. With no more money to distract the ghost servants, things got much harder.
At every location, malevolent ghosts swarmed toward him.
He had only two options. Either strike them down instantly, which would cause him to be forcibly ejected from the ghost domain, after which he'd have to find a new way back in. Or avoid them entirely, ducking and weaving through the shadows, doing everything he could not to be noticed.
During one trip outside, he glimpsed from afar the fluttering dragon banner of the imperial court, the unmistakable sign of the Human Emperor’s arrival.
But Li Yuan made no move to reveal himself.
Instead, he quietly slipped away and reentered this mysterious underworld.
Strangely enough, though the Emperor had come, Li Yuan never once encountered him inside the ghost domain. What he did find were soldiers, and a number of fifth and sixth rank cultivators.
He came to a conclusion that the Human Emperor himself likely couldn’t enter the ghost domain...but the army he brought with him could.
Unfortunately, those cultivators who managed to enter soon discovered the terrifying truth. They couldn’t get back out. This place wasn’t the ancient ghost street, where movement was possible both ways. This was something else.
This was a one-way gate.
˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks turned into months.
Li Yuan’s skills at evading ghosts grew sharper, more practiced. He ventured farther and farther into the dead expanse.
And then, one day, how long had it been? Three months? More? He wasn’t sure anymore...he reached what felt like the edge of this endless place.
There, at the border of the wasteland, stood a bridge.
Beside the bridge grew a peach tree.
The fruit hanging from its branches was blood-red, so vivid it hurt the eyes.
And beneath the tree sat someone Li Yuan recognized all too well.
It was the atelier ghost. Clad in a red burial shroud, its rotting body slumped grotesquely beneath the tree. Its eyes, full of resentment and venom, stared unblinking at the only living soul to walk this path.
Then came the laughter.
A slow, creaking, bone-chilling cackle, “Kekeke...”
Li Yuan turned and ran, but the atelier ghost didn’t chase.
Instead, it reached beside itself, picking up a strange, broken bowl. With skeletal fingers, it plucked one of the crimson peaches from the tree and dropped it into the bowl.
Then, just like that, it appeared right in front of him.
“Have a peach,” it whispered, voice low and echoing. “Just one.”
Li Yuan didn’t hesitate. The moment the atelier ghost spoke, he summoned his withered flame and thrust it straight toward the creature.
But the instant the flame appeared, that familiar red-and-black boundary membrane snapped into place.
BOOM! He was thrown out of the ghost domain like a stone skipping off a lake.
Far in the distance, the atelier ghost remained seated by the bridge, still holding its bowl.
The peach was gone.
All that remained inside was a pool of murky yellow water.
After a long pause, the atelier ghost let out a low, eerie sigh and slowly settled back down beneath the peach tree, returning to its motionless vigil at the bridge’s edge.
Li Yuan found himself back where he had started, surrounded by a whirlwind of falling autumn leaves.
The last time he had entered the ghost domain, it had been the height of summer, blistering sun, long days.
Now it was deep into fall.
Just like that, more than half a year had passed since the fusion of the ghost domains began, and he still hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of Yan Yu.
And yet...his daily stat points were still growing.
That meant her humanity remained intact. She was still in there, still fighting.
“Then I’ll keep going,” Li Yuan affirmed to himself.
˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙
Time passed, winter came.
And by then, the massive ghost domain that had swallowed Ocean Province had acquired a name, the Underworld.
In the meantime, Li Yuan had saved more people than he could count.
At first, he gave no name. But eventually, for reasons even he didn’t fully understand, he began introducing himself as a subordinate of Yan Yu.
The belief in Yan Yu was already widespread in the southern lands. Now, slowly, that same faith began to take root in Ocean province. People started quietly placing her statues in their homes, lighting incense, praying for blessings and protection.
Surprisingly, the Human Emperor did not forbid it.
He merely asked some of his rescued subjects about this mysterious subordinate. Once he’d heard enough, he gave silent consent to the worship of Yan Yu.
Not that it mattered much. The Emperor was powerless to deal with the Underworld.
But as time went on, the disappearances grew fewer. It became harder and harder for Li Yuan to enter the ghost domain at all.
He tried everything from skirting around Ghost Lake, calling out to the malevolent ghosts within, climbing the shadowy mountain flanking the realm...
Each time, he was either immediately attacked and thrown out, or left with nothing to show for it.
Gradually, a thought began to form. This Underworld, even its terrain, bore a strange resemblance to the Hell of his previous life’s myths.
But it didn’t make sense.
If that atelier ghost was holding the famed Granny Meng’s Soup, why offer it to the living right at the entrance to the Underworld?
In the tales he remembered, you only drank the soup after your judgment in the Hall of Yama, before you were sent off to be reincarnated. If you drank it too early and forgot all your sins, how would you even be punished?
And what was with the red peach? What did that have to do with Granny Meng’s Soup?
He’d never heard of such a thing.
Still...if this Underworld really was evolving into that mythic Hell, it would make sense that things were still chaotic, still forming, still in flux. A prototype. A liminal state.
Then his thoughts returned to his wife.
Yan Yu had become the Lady of the Underworld. She carried that name now. An omen, perhaps. A sign. But...would the one bearing the name still be the same Yan Yu he knew?
He clenched his jaw.
“Keep going.”
If nothing else, he would see her, just once...
1. There’s no official translation, but the 望乡台 refers to a terrace in the underworld where lost souls can glimpse at their homes. ☜
