Chapter 283

Li Chuyuan pushed through layer after layer of gray fog. Initially thin, it grew denser the deeper he went, until finally, it was so thick that a mere touch made pus ooze out.

Once he fully passed through, an arc of absolute darkness lay before him.

“Boom!”

A clap of thunder echoed, and lightning momentarily illuminated the area, revealing a courtyard with a pond. Under the eaves, the tomb owner was seated.

He appeared younger now than he did in his coffin after death. Yet, despite being technically alive, his condition was indistinguishable from being deceased.

His skin was ashen, and he sat motionless, eyes open but devoid of light. In essence, he was a more pristine, unrotted living dead.

From birth, underworld emissaries had used him as a ready "inn," a frequent possession that not only assaulted his body but utterly shattered his spirit.

To put it bluntly, even the courtesans and pimps in a brothel lived with more dignity than he did.

If he had possessed an ordinary disposition, it might have been easier. He could have given up early, allowed his self to be utterly extinguished, and found release. Yet, deep down, he was remarkably resilient.

Individuals with his constitution typically didn't survive past the age of ten, yet he lived into his early twenties, more than doubling that lifespan. However, this very resilience brought him not the end of suffering, but rather a more prolonged and agonizing torment.

Li Chuyuan bypassed the pond and approached the tomb owner.

The spirits within ordinary corpses often showed various degrees of damage, sometimes even appearing extremely weak. In such cases, Li Chuyuan typically had to replenish their spiritual energy himself.

Yet, the spirit of the figure before him remained remarkably intact, even after so many years since his burial.

By all accounts, this should have been advantageous. However, the opposite was true: it meant that despite his death, he still possessed all his memories. To "deceive" him, even through memory alteration, would require meticulous consideration of a long, complex timeline, significantly increasing the difficulty.

Li Chuyuan waved a hand in front of him and called out twice. As anticipated, he received no response.

It was as if, to the tomb owner, Li Chuyuan was merely another underworld emissary attempting to possess his body.

The young man decided to leave; his time was extremely limited and could not be wasted.

In reality, the three entities who had descended into the tomb owner's body, while breaking the rules, also extended them. Once a new equilibrium was established, their focus was instead fixated on the "four individuals" before them.

This effectively gave Li Chuyuan the chance to operate unnoticed, right under their noses.

However, the young man was currently under immense pressure and heavy strain. He had to maintain the real-world situation while secretly employing the Black Parchment secret technique. Thus, he needed to achieve results in the shortest possible time.

A complete overhaul of the tomb owner's memories was out of the question. Li Chuyuan decided to attempt a resonance with him instead.

He himself was certainly not the right person, but there was someone with remarkably similar experiences.

Li Chuyuan re-entered the gray fog, his appearance rapidly transforming into... Zhao Yi.

Emerging from the fog once more, he entered the lightning-struck courtyard and sat before the tomb owner.

"Zhao Yi" began to shrink, transforming from an adult into an infant. Around him, figures of "parents," "clan elders," and others continuously materialized.

As an infant, "Zhao Yi" endured the agonizing pain of his life-death ailment, while desperately reaching out his tiny hands for warmth and comfort. Yet, he was met only with his "parents'" displeasure and hatred, and the cold, calculating stares of the clan elders who viewed him as a negligible chance of success.

Zhao Yi occasionally spoke of his past in a jocular tone, and Li Chuyuan had never deeply discussed their respective childhoods with him.

After all, neither of them was particularly fond of their own childhood.

However, with "theme keywords" as a guide, Li Chuyuan could easily complete and elaborate on "Zhao Yi's past."

As he presented, Li Chuyuan simultaneously observed the tomb owner's reaction.

The tomb owner... remained unresponsive.

This prompted Li Chuyuan to self-correct. Pure "tragic empathy," while seemingly effective, would be too bland for an entity like the tomb owner.

The young man immediately adjusted his approach. Earlier, to highlight the sheer tragedy of Zhao Yi's past, he had intentionally omitted the character of "Old Man Tian."

To make it truly tragic, it needed to be absolute, devoid of any hope or warmth, thus making it extreme.

But without the contrast of tenderness, how could the hardship of those years be truly highlighted?

It was akin to using motion to emphasize stillness.

In the next iteration of the display, the figure of Old Man Tian appeared. While the entire family coldly watched, anticipating Zhao Yi's early demise, only this unrelated servant played with the young master, diligently guarded his bedside, and carried him outside to watch other children play.

As Old Man Tian's image gradually unfolded, the tomb owner's emotions stirred.

The scene was no longer static. A gentle woman appeared beside the tomb owner, embracing him, her tears falling like scattered pearls.

This was his mother.

She had given birth to her child and then watched his "torment" unfold. She never gave up, remaining by his side all the while.

This was likely why the tomb owner had managed to endure and prolong his desperate life.

As the scene shifted, white funeral banners appeared, paper money was scattered, and the tomb owner's mother passed away from illness.

His mother's departure stripped the tomb owner of any reason to continue living, and he closed his eyes.

Although the scene depicted the shared past of "Zhao Yi" and the tomb owner, Li Chuyuan, as an observer, was deeply moved.

It was only after arriving in Nantong that Li Chuyuan encountered the Xuanmen, opening the door to another world.

Yet, there was another undeniable truth: until he returned to Nantong and met his great-grandfather and his associates, Li Chuyuan had never felt that anything was missing from his life, nor did he perceive anything wrong with it.

Never having possessed or even experienced such things, he never felt their absence.

Sometimes, people don't live solely for themselves; your very existence can be an indispensable value in the lives of others.

Even if it's not immediately present, it is precisely this process of seeking, discovering, and building that gives meaning to the span of a life.

The young man looked up, other people's stories leaving their imprint on his heart. He clumsily attempted to capture and record them.

When he regained his senses, he discovered that the tomb owner, at some point, had risen from his seated position and was now standing before him.

Even Li Chuyuan was unsure what had successfully triggered him—Zhao Yi's story or his own deep empathy.

This was a genius, a talent buried away. Even years after his death, his corpse could withstand the simultaneous descent of three such powerful entities, a testament to his extraordinary gift.

Had he still been alive, he would have been worthy of sitting and conversing with both Li Chuyuan and Zhao Yi.

Li Chuyuan: "Do you regret it?"

The tomb owner was silent.

The young man understood that this genius had, in fact, buried himself. External factors played a role, but they weren't the primary cause.

Zhao Yi's childhood was far more painful, yet he gritted his teeth and endured. While the tomb owner's family certainly couldn't compare to a colossal entity like the Jiujiang Zhao clan, the repeated possessions by underworld emissaries would have allowed him to intercept many things. He simply chose not to confront the challenge, to claw through the hard, frozen earth above his head with his own bloodied hands.

The tomb owner spoke: "I regret it."

As he answered, his gaze was fixed on "Zhao Yi," who continued his performance.

The torment of childhood was over. Li Chuyuan didn't call a halt; "Zhao Yi" had now entered a spirited, flourishing phase, regarded by his family as the hope for a future Dragon King.

Li Chuyuan: "Unfortunately, you are already dead, with no chance to start over."

The tomb owner: "Hm."

Li Chuyuan: "But, since you're already dead, you might as well throw a tantrum."

The tomb owner smiled.

Li Chuyuan: "Those past underworld emissaries were mere small fry. This time, there are three significant entities on your corpse—they make excellent targets for revenge."

The tomb owner: "Right."

The next moment, Li Chuyuan sensed that he had completely "controlled" the tomb owner.

This was the most unusual experience the young man had with the Black Parchment secret technique since first learning it.

Rather than "control," it was more akin to a different manifestation of the red thread. The tomb owner's consciousness wasn't being dominated; instead, he was cooperating with Li Chuyuan's directives, working in synergy.

Wei Zhengdao's Black Parchment secret technique emphasized a domineering philosophy: all things possess spirits, and all can be controlled by the user.

Li Chuyuan subtly sensed that he might have discovered a new avenue for developing this secret technique.

For him now, controlling ordinary corpses, or even those of the fallen dead, held little significance, as none could withstand a single blow from Run Sheng's shovel anyway.

As for the corpses of those who were powerful in life, instead of forcibly destroying and rebuilding them into puppets that would lose many of their former abilities, a better approach would be to "awaken" them while granting them a degree of freedom.

Li Chuyuan didn't think he was being fanciful; it wasn't surprising that he could improve the Black Parchment secret technique.

Because when Wei Zhengdao created this secret technique, he was still in a "sick" phase and had not yet begun to heal himself.

In this particular aspect, Li Chuyuan was certainly ahead of Wei Zhengdao at the same stage of his life.

In the outside world, Mengmeng's poison jars were almost depleted. He needed to withdraw his consciousness to address the unfolding situation.

Li Chuyuan prepared to depart, but just as he reached the gray fog, he paused, turned back, and asked the tomb owner:

"Do you learn spells quickly?"

"I don't know."

He had never been initiated and possessed no foundation.

"Who chose this tomb for you?"

"I chose it myself when I was alive."

"Why here?"

"Besides me, my mother also had younger siblings. Moreover, my family supported me, this good-for-nothing, for over twenty years. I hoped they could live better lives in the future."

"You misunderstood me. I was asking what specific reason led you to choose this particular burial site."

"A feeling."

Li Chuyuan nodded.

Long-term possession by underworld emissaries had not been entirely without consequence. He had witnessed and experienced much from a first-person perspective.

It was as if he had constantly attended lectures in a classroom, but without ever earning a degree or taking exams for grades.

Li Chuyuan: "Then I'll teach you a spell. Let's see if you can learn it quickly."

The tomb owner: "Whatever you do, I'll do."

Li Chuyuan: "This is different. I can't guide you through this particular spell, as by then, I might have lost contact with you."

The tomb owner: "And for those three?"

Li Chuyuan: "A huge surprise."

The tomb owner: "Good, I'll learn."

In the real world, just before Yin Meng's last batch of poison jars ran out, Li Chuyuan mentally instructed her to retreat after the next wave of attacks and let Zhao Yi take over, then prepare for the sacrifice.

The time needed for spell learning would have to be acquired by putting pressure on Brother Binbin.

The brief learning period ended.

Li Chuyuan: "You've learned it."

The tomb owner nodded, lowered his hands, and with a smile, said:

"I look forward to it."

In reality.

The black patterns beneath the tomb owner's feet shattered, blocking the exit for the three entities.

The timing was meticulously chosen by Li Chuyuan: precisely when their three-incense rule period expired and they were about to depart.

Any earlier would have been disastrous; he couldn't prematurely corner them, or they would suffer consequences, and everyone present, including himself, would die.

They had established the rules. As the weaker party, before they could break these rules, they had to strive to understand them better than the stronger side.

Of course, alongside familiarity, one had to remain clear-headed; inertia could easily lead to the naive belief that rules would never change.

Their reactions surfaced.

Three lights of different colors—red, black, and white—emanated from the tomb owner's body.

The red light immediately moved to sever the connection between Li Chuyuan and the tomb owner's body. In an instant, a torrent of extreme negative emotions began to assail Li Chuyuan's spirit.

The young man's body swayed, and he sank to one knee, his face contorted in pain. Yet, he continued to grit his teeth, maintaining the futile struggle.

His previous physical condition had been genuine, and the earlier burden truly overwhelming—not an act. But now, he was indeed feigning.

The Underworld's signature torture method involved severe torment of the soul's consciousness. The entity represented by the red light was, at this moment, relying on a habitual approach.

Little did they know, these extreme emotions were utterly useless against the young man; he was an anomaly.

Although this anomaly had managed to make himself slightly more 'normal' through certain means, allowing him to be influenced by such emotions, for Li Chuyuan, it was merely an extra step: simply transfer this 'trash' into the fishpond his true self had constructed deep within his consciousness, to be used as feed.

The young man also knew this method wouldn't fool them for long, but it didn't need to; just long enough would suffice.

The black light formed a low, dark cloud overhead, plunging the surroundings into inky blackness.

In this way, he shielded the three entities, evading detection from above.

The white light first circled the tomb owner, forming a barrier, then began to erupt outwards.

They broke the rules again, but this time, they paid a price.

These lights were their very essence; every action they took at that moment consumed part of it.

While the consumption wasn't extensive nor particularly intense, entities that had existed longer tended to be more parsimonious in this regard.

Furthermore, even after breaching the rules, the influence of the old rules persisted. For instance, they could no longer control the tomb owner's corpse for combat.

Originally, they were temporary masters of the body; now, they were thieves, illicitly occupying it.

Li Chuyuan's breathing quickened, a deliberate signal to Zhao Yi.

Zhao Yi spread his arms, the life-death gate on his chest spinning rapidly as he pulled the extracted white light towards himself.

A scream tore from Zhao Yi's throat; his body convulsed violently, and his eyes rolled upward, turning completely white.

To withstand the soul power unleashed by that entity, even if it wasn't at full strength, was incredibly terrifying for a single person.

But at that moment, if he didn't bear it, no one else could.

Run Sheng and Lin Shuyou were nearing exhaustion. At that moment, they launched their final attack.

The shovel blade and twin maces struck the white light barrier, which trembled before repelling them.

The two struggled on, advancing once more, attempting to alleviate the pressure on Zhao Yi through this action.

"Three monks mean no water to drink" implies more than just monks.

Li Chuyuan perceived that even at this critical juncture, the three entities remained stingy, conserving their essence as much as possible, and even comparing their efforts.

The black light was responsible for obscuring detection from above, the red light for suppressing the body and severing its link to Li Chuyuan, while the white light's offense and defense meticulously matched the consumption rates of the other two, steadfastly refusing to expend any more than necessary.

In their eyes, Li Chuyuan and his group were mere commoners, while they themselves were lofty beings adorned in official robes.

"Zhao Yi!"

Yin Meng cried out urgently, rushing towards Zhao Yi, her eyes filled with concern.

An unknowing observer might have thought Yin Meng and Zhao Yi shared an exceptionally close bond.

She reached Zhao Yi, intending to help him block the white light's assault.

Unfortunately, while her identity might make entities below the Judge hesitant, it held less sensitive importance before these three. At least, that's how it seemed when the white light grazed her, causing her to shriek in agony.

Zhao Yi lunged forward, forcefully pushing Yin Meng away with an outstretched hand, and roared:

"Get lost, idiot."

Yin Meng landed and tumbled repeatedly.

At that moment, Li Chuyuan too abandoned his struggle, as if he could no longer withstand the relentless tide of negative emotions, severing his connection to the tomb owner's corpse.

The young man pressed his forehead to the ground, his right fingertips gripping the dirt before him, conveying an intense sense of unwillingness.

The red light completed its task and promptly receded.

Witnessing this, the white light immediately withdrew, leaving only the white barrier before them, which continued to repel Run Sheng and Lin Shuyou's now incredibly weak attacks.

Both were too exhausted to continue fighting. After another round of attacks, Run Sheng collapsed.

Lin Shuyou, however, planted his twin maces into the ground, perhaps mimicking what the boy had taught him, attempting to maintain a tragic, unyielding stance even as he fell.

But with all his strength drained, maintaining a posture was impossible. As Lin Shuyou leaned forward into unconsciousness, the twin maces on the ground failed to prop him up. Instead, his body toppled forward, then defiantly flipped onto its back, like a quilt hung out to dry.

Zhao Yi appeared outwardly unchanged, yet he felt as if he had been scorched by intense flames. After collapsing to his knees with a thud, he immediately forced himself back up.

If he didn't rise, no one from their side would remain standing.

Opening his mouth, Zhao Yi's tongue revealed a folded purple talisman paper, and his eyes glinted with madness.

"Fengdu, accept death."

"Underworld, receive punishment."

"Sins unforgivable."

The three entities were departing. They had tacitly accepted that they couldn't intercept their targets mid-course and were unwilling to invest further, choosing instead to settle accounts in Fengdu.

The black patterns reappeared. The black light was the most anxious; its essence had been continuously consumed to shield them from the gaze of the Heavenly Dao. Moreover, killing someone outside the three-incense period, especially an individual of such sensitive status, would subject it to even more horrific pressure.

After all, one was from a less conventional Dragon King lineage, and the other was the inheritor of two Dragon King houses.

Lying on the ground, Yin Meng held burning yellow paper in her hand, muttering a spell.

This time, the black patterns beneath their feet didn't vanish; instead, they suddenly expanded many times over, and a unique aura descended.

"This is..."

"How could this be..."

"Impossible..."

Three expressions of panic surfaced, for this was the aura of the Great Emperor!

Li Chuyuan raised his head, watching this scene.

Zhao Yi retracted his tongue, concealing the purple talisman paper, and a triumphant smile spread across his face.

Earlier, when Yin Meng rushed to him, attempting to share the burden, he took the parasitic insect from her hand just as he pushed her away.

With the white barrier present, the parasitic insect couldn't fly straight in. So Zhao Yi clenched it in his hand, waiting for the white light to leave his body, then allowed the insect to blend into the departing light and follow it out.

The one who devised this plan had to be Li. Mengmeng's improvisational skills simply weren't that quick. This ability to "loudly conspire" privately, right in front of the enemy, truly made Zhao Yi envious.

Unfortunately, he couldn't learn it.

The red light flared once more, engulfing the tomb owner's body. The burial garments lifted, revealing a small hole in the center of his abdomen.

The parasitic insect was already inside.

Essentially, Yin Meng had offered the tomb owner's corpse as a sacrifice to her ancestors.

The tomb owner's body began to swell, gradually showing signs of decomposition.

The red light intensified, no longer holding back, actively suppressing the process.

The black light above continued to expand its area. This time, besides severing the connection to the Heavenly Dao, it also needed to isolate another presence that filled them with dread.

The central white light split into two, one half aiding the red light, the other assisting the black.

They had been calculating small advantages, but in the end, their calculations resulted in a loss that would only continue to grow.

It wasn't that the three were short-sighted; given their actions, anyone else would have been easily toyed with to death. But this time, they faced Li Chuyuan, and crucially, there was a vast difference even between 'ants'.

Zhao Yi took a deep breath, truly admiring Li. For himself, merely adapting to such entities was challenging, yet Li could harden his resolve and relentlessly assault them. Even if he couldn't kill them, he'd tear a layer of skin from them.

Just then, within the blackness above, three hues—yellow, blue, and green—emerged, seemingly actively helping to obscure perceptions.

The black and part of the white light, now relieved of pressure, could fully assist the red in suppressing the corpse sacrifice, and it truly seemed to be brought under control.

They were, after all, beings of myth and legend. When they became serious and truly committed, their power became indescribable.

Li Chuyuan's face showed no discouragement; instead, his eyes were thoughtful, and he even glanced towards the southwest.

Zhao Yi was greatly provoked and unwilling to let those three escape safely.

You want to interrupt the sacrifice and prevent the Great Emperor's gaze from falling upon us, don't you?

Fine, I'll let you try to shield yourselves!

Zhao Yi ran to Yin Meng's side, picked up a scattered piece of yellow paper, pricked his fingertip with a nail, and immediately began writing a blood inscription on it.

He had experienced similar situations before; he had experience.

Having quickly finished writing, Zhao Yi proclaimed, "Great Emperor above, I, Zhao Yi of Jiujiang, humbly offer this sacrifice! I hope Your Majesty will accept and enjoy it!"

The yellow paper caught fire, but only a corner burned before it extinguished.

The three-colored light on the tomb owner's body trembled faintly, then resumed its stable suppression.

Clearly, it was insufficient, far from enough.

Zhao Yi wondered if he should take the yellow paper to Li, reasoning that given Li's unique relationship with the Great Emperor, it might succeed.

But just as he was about to turn and run over, he saw Li, who had just been pretending to watch the commotion, lower his head again.

Zhao Yi: "..."

Li was definitely faking it; Zhao Yi was ninety-nine percent certain.

Yet, just as he hadn't dared to strike when Li