Chapter 3 — The Ancestor Turns the Underworld Upside Down

At the bottom of the lake rested a stone, a relic of suppression known to silence even the most resilient spirits. It was designed to stifle consciousness, pinning a soul down until it became catatonic, rendering any plea for help lost to the suffocating depths. I reached beneath the cold stone, my fingers brushing against something that trembled rhythmically. With a forceful heave, I overturned the slab. As it rolled aside, a small, huddled figure was revealed. It was An. She lay curled upon the silt of the lakebed, her body drawn into a tight, defensive knot. Her knees were pressed against her chest, arms wrapped fiercely around her legs, her face buried deeply between them. I recognized that posture instantly; whenever she suffered nightmares as a child, she would retreat into the corner of her bed exactly like this. Back then, whenever I approached to embrace her, she would squeeze her eyes shut and whisper, Grandmother, before pressing her face into the crook of my neck, refusing to look up.

An.

I spoke her name with infinite gentleness. Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly parted. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, shadowed by dark, bruised hollows. She stared at me for a long time, her lips trembling, failing to voice the word.

Grandmother.

I reached down and gathered her into my arms. One by one, I applied the seventeen fragments of her essence I had retrieved, pressing them back into her weary form until her aura began to mend. Though her spirit remained faint, it was at least whole. I carried her toward the surface, channeling my own cultivation into her cooling skin to heal the deep wounds etched into her soul.

Let us go, little one. Grandmother will take you to be reborn.

When we emerged back to the surface, the figures of Chen and Yan were gone. As I carried An back to the Reincarnation Platform, I found them causing an uproar.

Open the gate to reincarnation at once, or I shall not be so polite!

They were confronting the Underworld emissary, Cheng Hao. The official remained entirely impassive.

I have stated this clearly: without the proper token, no gate shall be opened.

Do you have any idea who I am? My mother dare not defy my wishes!

Chen shouted in a fury. Cheng Hao merely rolled his eyes, a cold smile tugging at his lips.

Do you truly think I was not present for your earlier outburst?

It was clear that I had never truly yielded to his arrogance. Chen and Yan gnashed their teeth, their hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, yet they remained helpless. The hourglass was down to its final grains of sand. Upon seeing me return with An, their expressions turned ghastly. The young woman who had been posturing on the platform stumbled back, her face draining of color as she caught sight of the child in my arms.

I am afraid you are to be disappointed. I have retrieved An.

I set An down upon the platform. Though her spirit was still thin, the features of her face were now distinct, and the small, crimson mole behind her left ear remained as it had always been. She tilted her head, gazing at Chen and Yan, her lips parting softly.

Father. Mother.

Chen’s shoulders lurched, yet he refused to meet his daughter’s eyes. Yan looked up, but a single glimpse of the girl was enough to draw tears to her eyes. Yet, neither moved. They did not respond to An, did not rush to hold her, and showed no joy at her recovery—nor did they show a shred of sorrow for the torments she had endured. They only continued to demand, with frantic impatience, that the other woman take the blessed fate and proceed to reincarnation. At that moment, the truth shattered the last of my doubts. The culprits were my own son and daughter-in-law. How could they be so cruel? An was their own flesh and blood. I stepped onto the platform.

Earlier, I lacked the evidence to forcibly reclaim your stolen memories.

But now, the proof is undeniable. You are nothing but a fraud.

The girl retreated in a panic, her back hitting the stone well of the platform with nowhere left to run. Her hands went limp. The plaque of fate slipped from her grasp, landing face-up to reveal the four golden characters: Nine Lives of Fortune. The light they cast was blinding. I raised my hand.

No! You cannot!

Chen and Yan shrieked in unison. I diverted my strike, lashing out with a wave of energy that sent them both flying. They slammed against the stone pillars, hung suspended for a heartbeat, and crashed to the ground. They lay in a heap, broken and wretched, spitting mouthfuls of blood.

Only twelve beings in the entire Underworld possess the knowledge of the Soul-Stilling Technique required to cast fragments of a soul into the depths of the eighteen hells.

I turned to scan the observers below the platform, my gaze sweeping past the presiding Judges. In the shadows, a Deputy Emissary began to creep backward. He was responsible for recording reincarnation rites and held close ties with the Ten Kings of Hell. His face was as pale as parchment, his lips quivering as he retreated. My eyes locked onto him.

Speak!

The Deputy Emissary collapsed to his knees, his forehead striking the stone floor, terrified to even lift his head.

Grand Matriarch, have mercy! I will tell you everything!

He raised his head, his face drenched in cold sweat, his trembling finger pointing toward the two prone figures. It was your son and his wife who sought me out! They insisted they favored their foster daughter, Xuechun, and would not permit An to hold the noble fate destined for her. They bribed me to hide An’s traces and transfer her fate to Xuechun.

He wiped his brow with a shaking hand.

I only applied the Soul-Stilling Technique to Xuechun and handed her the plaque of the Nine Lives of Fortune, while erasing all records of An. But the injuries on An—I swear that part was not my doing!

Chen struggled to rise, clutching his chest in agony. You are lying!

The Deputy Emissary shook his head, desperate and inconsolable.