Chapter 34: The Underworld

Shen Siyuan rose and put his clothes back on; since the visitor was a friend of his great-uncle, he owed him the proper respect.

His great-uncle soon led an old Taoist priest into the room. When Shen Siyuan saw him, he was taken aback. With his understanding of ghosts, he could immediately tell that the old priest possessed a remarkably robust soul. Ghosts varied in strength; this was not only related to their vitality while alive, but also to their innate talent. Those born with such exceptional gifts possessed souls far stronger than ordinary people, making them more intelligent and sometimes even brilliant prodigies in specific fields, far surpassing the common man. The old priest was one of these rare individuals—extraordinary from birth. Even in death, he remained distinct from the rest.

Upon seeing Shen Siyuan, the old priest first showed surprise, then bowed deeply with joined hands, saying respectfully, "I am Qingyun. Greetings, fellow Daoist."

"Oh? Why do you call me 'fellow Daoist' instead of 'lay practitioner'?" Shen Siyuan asked with a smile.

"I observe that you command yin and yang, breathe in the vital essence, maintain your spirit in solitude, and possess a singular, unified physique. You are worthy of the title of 'True Man,' so naturally, I must address you as a fellow Daoist."

The old priest’s words were drawn from the *Huangdi Neijing: Suwen*. Shen Siyuan, unfamiliar with such texts, did not pursue the topic, but politely invited them to sit and talk.

"Lay Practitioner Yu was worried about you, thinking your health had taken a turn for the worse, so he asked me to take a look. I never expected that you had simply achieved success in cultivation."

The old priest gazed into Shen Siyuan’s radiant eyes and sighed inwardly with admiration. In this era of declining Taoism and hidden divinities, to achieve such a level of cultivation spoke to his exceptional talent. Yet, he also felt a pang of regret, sensing that Shen Siyuan had been born in the wrong age.

Beside them, the great-uncle listened to the old priest’s words and looked Shen Siyuan up and down with astonishment. He had never realized his grandnephew was a practitioner of the Dao.

Shen Siyuan was curious about the "cultivation" the priest spoke of. To his knowledge, the world was devoid of spiritual energy and filled with turbid air, making it impossible for cultivators to emerge. However, recalling the descent of merit, he realized he could not be so absolute.

"Are there many people like you, Priest?" Shen Siyuan asked. "I mean, are there many cultivators?"

"In the past, there were few, but many of them were successful. Now, there are many, but none are truly successful. They are all charlatans using the name of cultivation to amass wealth," the old priest sighed, his expression filled with melancholy and pain.

"Why were there few cultivators in the past, yet so many who succeeded?"

"Because in those days, the heavens and earth had not changed. All things had spirits, the world had order, gods lived above, humans lived in the middle, the departed lived below, and all things moved through the cycle of reincarnation..."

"Do you mean to say that the Underworld existed back then?" Shen Siyuan pressed.

"Naturally. How else would so many myths and legends have come to be? Could they all be fabrications?"

"Then why does it no longer exist? I have seen many people whose souls dissipate the moment they let go of their obsessions and attachments."

"Sigh," the old priest shook his head. "I do not know for certain."

"Long ago, the gods stopped descending to the human realm, and it is said that the path to immortality was severed; no one could become a god anymore. Yet, the cycle of the Underworld still existed then. After death, as long as one let go of their attachments, they could enter the Underworld and be reincarnated. But a century ago, for unknown reasons, the Underworld simply vanished. The dissolution of the soul became the ultimate end..."

Perhaps the old priest’s refusal to let go of his obsession with immortality was related to this.

"A century ago—is there a specific time?" Shen Siyuan asked.

The old priest frowned, contemplating. "It was roughly the year the foreigners invaded our Chinese land."

Shen Siyuan realized that when the old priest said "foreigners," he meant the Eight-Nation Alliance, and the timeline aligned with over a hundred years ago.

"1900, the invasion of the Eight Nations?"

"That sounds right." The old priest had lived a long time; although it was over 120 years ago, he had already been in his sixties then and remembered the events clearly.

"You don't know the reason, either?" The old priest shook his head. "Back then, I traveled to famous mountains and great rivers with other fellow practitioners, seeking immortals and spirits, all for an answer, but to no avail."

The old priest had long since come to terms with it. He continued, "However, the heavens and earth have their own rules. Even if ghosts do not enter reincarnation, it has had no major impact on the human world."

"No, there is an impact," Shen Siyuan countered.

"Oh? What kind of impact?" The old priest looked curious.

"Reincarnation, beyond adhering to the cycles of the universe, allows the soul to become more spiritual through the nourishment of the physical body. A century ago, countless brilliant talents were born. Do any exist now?"

"Furthermore, without the cycle of the six realms, what difference is there between good and evil? Both end in total dissipation."

"True, that is the logic of it," the old priest remarked with admiration. He then asked, "Are you free tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

Shen Siyuan thought for a moment and nodded slowly. He had a blind date in the morning, but the afternoon was free.

"Then come to my temple tomorrow. I have something for you."

"Something? What is it?"

"My fellow practitioners and I traveled far and wide and did not return entirely empty-handed. But our cultivation was shallow, and we could not make sense of it. The fact that you have achieved such cultivation in this world shows that you have not only exceptional talent but also profound fortune. If I give these things to you, perhaps you can uncover their secrets..."

Shen Siyuan was intrigued. Just then, his great-uncle, who had been silent, spoke up.

"Your temple has collapsed, overrun with weeds and pests. After all these years, could those things still be hidden there?"

The old priest glanced at him sideways. "When I passed away, the human world was in chaos, and there was a movement to destroy all 'demons and ghosts.' Fearing those items would be lost, I buried them deep underground long ago. Since my temple has seen few visitors over the years, they remain safe."

"In that case, thank you, Priest. I will come to take a look tomorrow afternoon. Where is your temple located?"

"At Little Wind Ridge, called the Listening-to-the-Wind Temple. I will wait for you at the foot of the mountain tomorrow afternoon and lead you there."

"Understood. Thank you, Priest."

Shen Siyuan knew Little Wind Ridge. It was a small hill nearby—calling it a mountain was a stretch; it was more like a large mound of dirt where he had played as a child.

The old priest stood up. "In that case, I shall not disturb you further. Rest well."

His great-uncle stood up as well. Shen Siyuan had things he wanted to say to his great-uncle, but he didn't know how to voice them. As he had thought before, everything was in the past. People and ghosts followed different paths—what was the point of dwelling on it?

His great-uncle likely lingered in the human world, waiting for his Qiaozhen. Since that was the case, he would let him wait; it gave him a purpose. Once he figured out why the Underworld had disappeared, he would see if he could help him enter the cycle of reincarnation. Before that, he could have him reside in his Ten Thousand Soul Banner to prevent his soul from dissipating.

But there was no rush. He walked them to the door and watched as they drifted away.