Chapter Seventeen: The Impostor Underworld Catcher (Part One)

Motuo was well aware that this intrusion into the underworld was no friendly visit or sightseeing tour; he had come to rob them on their own turf. Yet, the young man was so full of himself that he disdained to conceal his movements. Having encountered little danger upon entering the underworld, he had relaxed his guard, and coupled with Hu Hai’s utter unfamiliarity with the rules of this realm, the two became engrossed in conversation, tossing any warnings about caution to the wind. Normally, any immortal, demon, or spirit braving the underworld to undergo tribulation would conceal themselves with utmost care, for the underworld was notoriously inhospitable to such intruders. Though the denizens rarely resorted to outright slaughter for the sake of peace, if an intruder was discovered, they would be hunted down and expelled without hesitation. In their carelessness, delight turned to disaster, and soon they found themselves completely surrounded by patrolling ghost soldiers.

Before them stood a mass of ghostly troops, every one clad in armor and wielding long halberds. Their faces were so black they made African natives seem fair, and against their dusky skin, their eyes and teeth gleamed with a dazzling brightness that could rival the models in toothpaste commercials.

One among them was taller and looked a bit different—the leader, no doubt. His skin was a light brown, his armor earthen, as if he’d just crawled from the mud. Atop his helmet was set a jet-black bead, and though he held no weapon, in his hand were five small triangular command flags of different colors. It was clear he was the commander of this troop.

“Well, it took long enough to finally see some ghosts,” Hu Hai remarked, standing in the middle of the encirclement yet showing no sign of tension. Instead, he looked around curiously, commenting, “Now this feels like hell. But why are the dead so ugly? Did they paint their faces just to scare people?” His tone even held a trace of excitement.

Motuo, though not as relaxed as Hu Hai, was not especially nervous either. Ever since gaining spiritual affinity, his demonic power had grown immensely, and his confidence soared. He certainly didn’t think his cultivation was lacking; otherwise, he’d never have dared to break into the underworld. In the demon realm, even those many times more powerful than he would rather spend decades or centuries consolidating their strength at the bottleneck of tribulation than risk acting rashly.

Surrounded now by ghost soldiers, Motuo felt a flicker of tension, but it was quickly suppressed by the thought: “With power as deep as mine, could I really be bested by a few little imps?” Seeing Hu Hai’s fearless face, he was even more determined not to lose face. So he nonchalantly said to Hu Hai, “Ignore them. Whatever happens, I’ll handle it.”

Hu Hai, not to be outdone, replied, “What could possibly happen?” He made a show of looking around. “I don’t see anything special.”

The two burst out laughing.

*

The one in earthen armor was called Soul Hunter, the leader of this band of ghost soldiers.

He was patrolling the Torment Inferno with his men as usual when he ran into the wandering Hu Hai and Motuo. Sensing something off about the pair but not knowing their capabilities, he at first planned to quietly follow them and send someone back to the Prison Command to fetch experts from the Thunder Division for help. But the two kept wandering farther from his patrol zone, and unwilling to let the credit slip through his fingers, he decided to act at once, arranging his men to surround them.

Having overheard their conversation, Soul Hunter was convinced these were dangerous outsiders. Now, seeing them pay him no mind, he was enraged. He raised the five-colored flags and, with a gesture, activated the “Stilling Spirit Formation,” one of the underworld’s five great battle arrays.

At his signal, the ghost soldiers swiftly formed lines to the east, west, south, and north. In each direction, they split into two rows. The front row stood scattered, hands together, elbows pinning their halberds horizontally before their chests, chanting in unison. The back row knelt on one leg, left hands extended, halberds thrusting forward through the gaps to guard against close attack and seal off any retreat. Soul Hunter himself stood behind his men, unfurling the five-colored flags to activate the formation’s core.

Beams of black light descended from the sky, and in an instant, a square yard of space around Hu Hai and Motuo was enveloped in a gray-black fog. Their vision darkened, and they were cut off from their enemies.

As the chanting continued, the golden beetle embroidered on Soul Hunter’s red flag seemed to spring to life, flying off the fabric and into the fog. From its tail spurted a fine, transparent thread, which wound around Hu Hai and Motuo, binding them tightly in moments. With a piercing buzz, it returned to the flag.

Hu Hai heard only chaos and, feeling agitated, tried to cover his ears, only to realize he could not move at all. He shot Motuo a sidelong glance and saw him standing as still and stiff as a clay statue. Alarmed, he realized they were truly at the enemy’s mercy and cursed Motuo’s incompetence inwardly.

*

“Reporting: The intruders have been captured, sir!” a ghost soldier announced to Soul Hunter.

Soul Hunter had seen it all and was puzzled: these two had dared to invade the underworld, yet offered no resistance and were caught so easily? The underworld’s five arrays were formidable, yes, but he had only used the lowest-level “Stilling Spirit Formation,” with many subtleties left untapped. Usually, trespassers were powerful: those with innate strength would shrug off the “Soul-Binding Threads,” and those with experience would anticipate and avoid the formation. Yet this time... He did not realize that these two were, in truth, a reckless novice and an arrogant half-wit; even without the formation, his own magic would have sufficed to subdue them.

Still pondering, he heard his subordinate’s report and waved his hand. “Go, find out who they are!”

Immediately, several imps darted from the ranks, pulled at Hu Hai and Motuo’s clothing, and sniffed them up and down.

“Reporting: This one is from the demon realm!”

“Reporting: This one... can’t be identified!”

Hearing this, Soul Hunter was overjoyed. If Hu Hai wasn’t a demon lord, he was at least an accomplice. Laughing, he declared, “Ha! Caught two little demon lords—what a feat!”

Though Hu Hai couldn’t move, his mouth was never idle. Hearing the ghosts speak the human tongue (for all immortals, demons, and underworld folk were once human, and thus used the human language), he steadied himself. He believed that, as long as he could talk, his glib tongue and Shi Jun’s “Underworld Detective” badge could see him through. He gave Motuo a confident smile and shouted to Soul Hunter, “Who says I’m a demon lord? I’m actually...”

He was just about to mention his “Underworld Detective” badge when a seasoned old ghost cut him off with a barked “Silence!” Bowing obsequiously to Soul Hunter, the old ghost said, “Sir, this one seems to be a living man!”

A living man in the underworld! For millennia, no living soul had ever entered here, so the younger ghosts couldn’t place Hu Hai by scent alone; only an ancient ghost, thousands of years in service, could tell his kind.

“A living man? With a demon lord? This must be a conspiracy—a grand conspiracy!” Soul Hunter’s heart leapt. How could a powerless living man enter the underworld, and why consort with a demon? His political instincts went wild. Though visions of promotion danced before his eyes, he kept his head. With a wave, he ordered, “Take these two to the Prison Command for thorough questioning!”

“Yes!” the soldiers chorused, and they hoisted the pair and marched them grandly toward the Underworld’s Prison Command.

*

“Wait!” Soul Hunter, flush with pride and ready to depart, saw something slip from Hu Hai’s hand. He stooped to pick it up and, staring at Hu Hai, demanded, “Where did this come from?”

Hu Hai looked and was delighted: it was Shi Jun’s underworld token! How could he have forgotten it?

“Hmph!” Though held aloft awkwardly by the ghost soldiers, Hu Hai’s tone was suddenly full of swagger. “That thing? Isn’t that the token the Emperor of the Underworld sent over by way of Chiyang just a few days ago?”

Chiyang... the Underworld Emperor! At these names, Soul Hunter’s knees nearly buckled. One was among the four great marshals, the other the supreme ruler of the underworld. How could this young man be connected to them? And if his words were true, and the Emperor had Chiyang deliver something to him, was his status not nigh equal to the King of the Dead himself? Who on earth was he? Examining the token, Soul Hunter saw it was indeed the Emperor’s signet. His whole body went weak and he nearly collapsed.

Though Hu Hai was reckless, he was not without wit. Reading Soul Hunter’s reaction, he cleared his throat and declared, “Since you’ve seen the token, shouldn’t you release us at once!” His final words rang out with authority, and had he not been dangling in the air, a proper pose would have truly enhanced his heroic bearing.

“And you are...?” Soul Hunter, now convinced but still reluctant to let go of his hopes for advancement, asked with much more respect, though doubt lingered in his tone.

“You’ve heard of the Underworld Detective, haven’t you?” Hu Hai replied with a cold, ambiguous laugh.

Underworld Detective? Could this be the new favorite of the Emperor himself, on par with the three chief judges? Soul Hunter could barely stand, sweat pouring down his brow. He barked at his men, “Quick! Release the Detective and his friend at once!”

From start to finish, Hu Hai had never actually claimed to be the Underworld Detective; he had merely played a clever trick of ambiguity and scared Soul Hunter half to death.

With the Detective’s token, in the blink of an eye, the two were transformed from helpless prisoners into honored guests treated like royalty.

*

Soon after, Hu Hai and Motuo, heads held high, were escorted with great pomp by the ghost soldiers straight to the VIP chambers of the Prison Command. In attendance, aside from the ever-fawning Soul Hunter, were senior and junior officials from the Security Division, the Inspection Division, and the Thunder Division—advisors, judges, and more. Each one beamed with delight, smiles preceding their words, their hospitality and flattery so effusive it was almost awe-inspiring.

“What are you standing around for? Is this your place?” barked a judge named Lost Tree at Soul Hunter, who was left blinking and stunned at the side.