In the cloying silence, a prince stands alone, surrounded by enemy troops, presiding over the desecrated remains of his army. He stares at the mashed flesh splattered across the ground and does not even bother calling it a corpse. It feels too generous a word.
Needless to say, Ren Jiang is shaken to his core.
Standing on this hostile ground forces him to finally feel the sinisterness of Zhang Xiyu's schemes. The palace is devoid of lamps, yet he can see perfectly well—thirty thousand men encircle him. Thirty thousand men he brought here himself. Ren Jiang might have laughed, if he were not standing in the exact centre of the joke.
Slowly, his gaze lifts to the two actors on this blood-soaked stage.
"I… have underestimated you…"
A strange numbness creeps over him. Perhaps the weight of the situation has not fully settled yet, but he is not afraid. If anything, he feels befuddled.
Ren Jiang has always had a talent for knowing what people want because the target's desire is the blueprint of every trap; once you know it, the rest builds itself. Ren Jiang wants the throne. His third brother wants what Ren Jiang wants and his second brother wants booze. Aika wants grandeur. Hao Enlai wanted legacy.
And yet—
"Dragging me into your convoluted plans," Ren Jiang mutters, shaking his head. "Planting that spy. Devouring my army. I don't understand…" His voice sharpens with genuine exasperation.
"What the fuck do you want?"
"Revenge?" He scoffs, as though the idea of him dying is a charming joke. "It's cute if you're trying to kill me."
Contrary to expectation, Zhang Xiyu does not wear a victor's smile. His expression is solemn.
"I want you to give up." he says.
For a moment, Ren Jiang thinks he misheard.
The words don't land like a threat. His mind stalls, scrambling for the shape of the trap behind them. His breath hitches before he can stop it.
Ren Jiang's eyebrows shoot up, the reaction unguarded. "Give… up?"
"Yes." Zhang Xiyu nods earnestly. "You have been trying very hard, haven't you? Organizing the survival games of the Kaigan Pit for years. All for the sake of the Blue Lotus."
"You pushed Yutao, me, and countless other souls into its unforgiving depths, gambling that at least one of us would crawl back out with it." His voice tightens. "The magical flower destined to choose its next king."
Zhang Xiyu exhales, slow and heavy. "Unfortunately, all of us were damned along with your wish."
He meets Ren Jiang's eyes, his tone final, merciless in its calm.
"Ren Jiang, your ambition was nothing but a pipe dream. There is no magic lotus."
"I want you to give up," Zhang Xiyu says softly, "and prepare to welcome your father."
How heartwarming…
Yutao drawls behind him. And so sickening.
He watches Zhang Xiyu in silence, waiting for a crack.
Zhang Xiyu had briefed him about his meeting with Enma and He Bolin—about the promise to leave his darling son untouched, for reasons he refused to explain. But Zhang Xiyu doesn't need to say anything for Yutao to know what he truly wants.
Zhang Xiyu wants revenge.
He can pretend to be above it. He is not.
The future no longer matters. The heart has gone numb, hollowed out by pain, and only the flower of revenge can bloom in it.
Ren Jiang had been right to guess Zhang Xiyu's desire—but wrong to think the scheming ended there. Let the prince be lulled into false security. Let him believe the game is in his hands.
Only then will Zhang Xiyu's scheme truly begin.
"Why did you even try?" Zhang Xiyu adds lightly, almost as an afterthought. "You could never live up to the grand name of Lord Enma." He scoffs. "The Fifth King? You would struggle to qualify as His Excellency's Prime Minister."
There it is.
No matter how refined Zhang Xiyu pretends to be, the sadism always bleeds through—flickering sharp and cruel in his phoenix eyes.
"But hey," he continues cheerfully, "you could always ask your illustrious father to invent a new position just for you. You are so precious to him, after all. If you ask nicely, maybe he will crown you the Eleventh King."
Yutao feels a shiver of anticipation crawl up his spine as he waits for the provocation to land.
"…An Eleventh King could be useful," Zhang Xiyu muses. "Someone has to bid adieu to the reincarnating souls, after all."
Zhang Xiyu's friendly tone further twists Ren Jiang's dumbstruck expression. He had come to lay siege to a petrifying fortress—yet somehow it was his prey that now cajoled him with effortless contempt.
"Those monks. Jin Niu. All of you," Ren Jiang cuts in sharply. "Duplicitous to the core, aren't you?"
He knows he's cornered. Surrounded. So, he has been thinking about his next move. For one-
"I don't believe you." He hisses. "You expect me to believe that you are a self-made man? Your authority, your opulence, can every random ghost achieve all this through cultivation?" He enunciates the last word with disgust.
"Surely you jest." His cloudy eyes sharpen as realization dawns. Stepping forward, he pins Zhang Xiyu with his gaze.
"You… have the Blue Lotus."
Zhang Xiyu doesn't flinch. He simply shrugs, wearing a bored, almost weary smile. "Unfortunately, I'm not comfortable with you entering my home," he says mildly. "We're not close like that."
His hand settles deliberately on the hilt of his sword.
"So, I must politely decline your attempt to raid my castle for no good reason."
He waves a hand dismissively. "You may see yourself out. Oh—and give my regards to the exalted King Enma. I hear he will soon return to his throne."
Zhang Xiyu glances sideways. "Aren't you excited to meet him, Yutao?"
"Thrilled." Yutao grits out, forcing a smile.
Ren Jiang no longer listens to their sophistry. So what if Zhang Xiyu has the Blue Lotus? The easy path is gone. There is now only one way to take it. His gaze drifts to Zhang Xiyu's right hand—still resting on his sword in silent warning. I will have to duel him alone.
Yes, he is arrogant and quite confident in his own ability. But that does not undermine the opponent's strength. It is not that he can't kill him. It's just that it will take too long. Ren Jiang reasons with himself. To handle thirty thousand demons along with two powerful demonic cultivators, the battle will last for months!
And so, Ren Jiang had thought of his next move. His thought process was simple really.
Why should I fight alone?
Ren Jiang abruptly breaks into laughter, throwing his head up, he lets out a guttural laugh that breaks the stillness of the desert.
"What does it matter whether I have the Blue Lotus or not?" he roars.
Behind Zhang Xiyu's and Yutao's surprise simmers pure anticipation.
"Do you pests really think that's my only card?"
"I—"
"Fuck you."
"…."
They watch as Ren Jiang's composure collapses into something feral. Demonic energy floods the ground beneath him, warping the air. Without the protection arrays, the pressure would have crushed lesser demons outright.
Even so, instinct sends them retreating—legs moving before thought.
Like cornered dogs, they lie in suspense of what will the prince do next. Yutao and Zhang Xiyu were also in a similar position, except that they were quite looking forward to the upcoming turn of events.
Time seems to stall.
Everyone waits, taut and breathless, as Ren Jiang weighs his choice—testing whether this truly is his best move. If Zhang Xiyu could read his mind, he'd answer instantly:
"Yes. It is the worst decision you will ever make. And I want you to make it."
Years later, when the residents of Hell demand to know how this day unfolded, the survivors will only say:
"Things just… happened. It got out of hand. Quickly. And badly."
But this is what they saw.
Ren Jiang extends his right hand. A stone materializes in his palm—smooth as a river pebble, eerily familiar. Its shape mirrors the stones once used in the game of Summoner's Death.
"The augmentation stone's here." Yutao gasps.
Augmentation stones are rare artifacts, etched with arrays for instant execution. Teleportation stones are merely one subtype. Others enable invisibility, traps, or far more creative horrors, depending on the owner's skill.
The stone in Ren Jiang's hand carries a far more dangerous function.
Inter-dimensional travel.
The smaller versions could only transport consciousness—fuelling Summoner's Death. But this one is unmistakable to Zhang Xiyu and Yutao, who had used similar artifacts while searching the mortal realm for fragments of the Blue Lotus.
This stone could bring Ren Jiang's entire physical body into the human world.
A grand demon of Hell can invade the realm of mortals.
Ren Jiang casts the stone.
The moment it strikes the ground, a vast array flares beneath his feet, glowing blood-orange, as if he stands atop molten lava.
"I have to do nothing." he sneers.
His body slowly sinks into the light, grin wide and unhinged.
"By the time this ends," he promises, voice echoing with madness, "you fuckers will beg me to take the throne."
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"Thankfully, the weather's pretty cool today. I'd have sweated through my clothes otherwise."
A man in his twenties grumbles to his girlfriend as they climb the stone steps of Fengdu Ghost City. The campus couple has a long weekend off from university and decided to visit somewhere "cultural."
His girlfriend—who has already married him several times over in her imagination—had suggested the Temple of Yama.
Officially, she claims to love supernatural sites. Unofficially, her goal is far more specific: to cross the Naihe Bridge within nine steps, hand-in-hand with her first and only lover. According to folklore, this guarantees their reunion across all future reincarnations.
So, while the boyfriend sulks behind the tour group on the way to the Second Pass, the girl skips ahead, giddy now that her objective is complete. She's in too good a mood to scold him for the lingering glances he keeps throwing at the pretty tour guide.
"Here we are at the Ghost-Torturing Pass," the guide announces brightly. "From this point on, we tread the Road of Hell."
Her smile is radiant—untouched by exhaustion. Her outfit, however, borders on theatrical, as though assembled from every tour-guide stereotype imaginable. Somehow, her glowing appearance redeems it entirely. The tourists find themselves staring at her more than at the scenery.
"Ms. Yin," a teenager asks, pointing at the stone statues flanking the black gate, "what are these sculptures?"
"These are ghosts appointed by King Yama to test incoming souls," she explains in a melodious voice. "Their job is to tempt the dead with the obsessions they couldn't let go of in life."
She gestures toward a statue of a bloated drunk clutching a massive wine jar, eternally mid-toast.
"If a soul succumbs to temptation," she continues, "they fall off the Path of Reincarnation and are sent for punishment."
"What a landmine," the boy mutters. "One wrong step and—bam."
"Seriously," his friend agrees. "There better be a tutorial when I die. Like in video games."
"Yeah," another chimes in, grinning. "Preferably narrated by Ms. Yin."
Ms. Yin laughs. "You want me guiding you even after death? Let me rest already."
The group chuckles and continues chatting as they pass the Home Tower and finally arrive at the Temple of Yama.
"Woah…"
Inside the hall stand towering statues of gods and ghosts—the Six Cao Underworld Officials, the Ten Yama Kings, the Four Judges—alongside vivid depictions of the Eighteen Levels of Hell.
Phones flash as tourists snap photos of the magnificent ministers of the underworld.
"It's said the soul receives judgment right here," Ms. Yin explains. "Those who accumulate good deeds will be reborn into noble or wealthy families. Those who do not…"
She pauses meaningfully.
"…will face unfortunate lives ahead."
"Some souls don't accept the verdict and try to flee," she adds, sweeping a hand toward the surrounding statues. "That's when these ministers give chase. Therefore, facing the final judgement is inescapable."
Some of the tourists hold a pensive look as her words fall while others barely listen, distracted by architecture and camera angles.
Clap.
The sound echoes sharply through the hall.
"Shall we go meet King Yama?"
Only in the mortal world would such a question be met with excitement. The group eagerly presses deeper into the hall, where Yama's massive statue comes fully into view.
The gilded figure sits upon a throne, draped in elaborate golden robes and a traditional headdress. Red and yellow banners bearing ancient characters frame him, radiating solemn authority.
While the group looks at it in awe, the tour guide's amicable face twitches. Beneath her calm expression, dread coils in her gut.
The tremors that run under her feet are so subtle that mortals can never feel it. She senses the unnatural quake that pulsates with demonic energy.
Its only tell being the faint crack that appears on Yama's face.
The rest of the tour ends in a blur.
Ms. Yin rushes the group through closing remarks, her cheer edged with urgency. When the campus couple suggests stopping by the Yangtze River afterward, she shuts it down immediately.
"It's getting dark," she says firmly. "The forecast says rain. You should catch the next train."
She smiles, waves, and sees them off—chanting silently.
Go. Go. Leave already.
She can't save everyone but saving some is better than saving none.
Ms. Yin, who was none other than Renhu, has been grinding at his new found job for months now because one day, his boss in hell had barged into his room. He told him to pack his bags and promptly fuck off to Chongqing in the mortal realm.
There he must lie in wait for a certain demon to invade.
Used to the luxury he was born in, Renhu knew that he can't live hidden in the dumpsters like the other monsters did nor can he possess another mortal. To earn a living, he became a woman to easily bag this tour guide job.
As a native of Hell with encyclopaedic knowledge and an attractive face, business flourished. For months, she lived the pink-collar grind—smiling, educating, collecting wages.
And now—
It was finally over.
Her shift ended, Renhu races toward the epicentre of the tremors. The coming disaster promises world-shaking chaos.
Still, the thought of never working customer service again makes her grin—until her form twists back into her male counterpart.
Renhu cracks his knuckles.
He can't wait to meet the asshole who made him suffer for months.
But when he sees the figure rising from the ground—
Renhu realizes he could have taken his time after all.