A wave of oppressive force swept over them—not the kind from the cultivation world, but... the pressure of a god.
Fang Zhiyi wiped his face with a hand, and the makeup on it instantly transformed, replaced by a new layer in black and white. He took a light step forward, each stride enduring tremendous impact.
The other vengeful spirits had long collapsed, unable to stand.
An old man suddenly rose slowly into the air, golden light flickering in his eyes.
"You vile ghosts, wreaking havoc in the mortal realm—surrender now!" He pointed a finger, and a beam of golden light pierced through the dark miasma.
Fang Zhiyi smirked, catching the attack effortlessly with his sleeve. "Vengeful spirits? I am the head of the Underworld Corporation!"
The possessed old man froze. "The Underworld?"
Fang Zhiyi met his gaze fearlessly. "If they have their Patriarchs and Celestial Venerables, why can’t we wandering souls have ours? Since you’ve attained the Great Dao, surely you understand reason."
He pointed at the vengeful spirits behind him. "Not a single life has been taken by their hands. On the contrary, they bear merit and even receive mortal offerings! If you can ascend to the ranks of immortals, why can’t we?"
"Preposterous! Since ancient times, there has never been such a thing as ghost immortals!"
"This is the Heavenly Dao. We oversee the Underworld, govern the cycle of reincarnation, reward virtue and punish evil. Whether it’s true or not, you may judge for yourself."
The old man lowered his head slightly, leaving everyone present stunned.
Had these vengeful spirits suddenly gained official status?
After a long silence, the old man raised his head again, this time cupping his hands toward Fang Zhiyi. "The Three Paths of Heaven, Earth, and Man—today, the Path of Earth is complete, a blessing for the world! This old man pays respects to... the Head."
With that, the old man collapsed, clearly abandoned by the Patriarch who had possessed him.
"The Underworld? A... Head?" Ma Xiuyun stood to the side, reeling from the shock.
Fang Zhiyi, meanwhile, felt the changes within himself. Borrowing Little Black’s power, he had altered the rules of reincarnation—but recognition was still needed. Now, with the acknowledgment of these so-called immortals, an inexplicable force surged through him: the power of rules.
"Scram," Fang Zhiyi said with a casual wave. A frigid aura rushed toward the crowd, and in that instant, they all understood—victory was impossible. These vengeful spirits had attained the Dao, and not just any Dao, but the Great Dao.
One by one, people bowed to Fang Zhiyi before leaving.
In the end, only two remained: an unwilling He Wei and a dazed Ma Xiuyun. The Five Talents Sect had no intention of taking He Wei back—they already knew he had offended Fang Zhiyi. In this situation, who would dare bring such a troublemaker into their ranks? Hadn’t they heard? After death, everyone would pass through Fang Zhiyi’s hands.
"Brother Zhiyi... you..." Ma Xiuyun didn’t know what to say.
"Me? ‘Lay down the butcher’s knife and become a Buddha’? Or do you want me to stop?" Fang Zhiyi gave her a cold glance. "Your hypocrisy will face judgment in due time. But don’t worry—you still have time."
He left with his people, leaving behind a terrified Ma Xiuyun. There was much to do.
First, he sent envoys to visit these cultivators, selecting some to sign contracts. Those vengeful spirits the Underworld couldn’t handle would be captured by them, and in return, Fang Zhiyi would grant them merit.
Next, he made a grand display by sending Bai Jingtian and a group of vengeful spirits—no, now called Underworld Enforcers—to the mortal realm to collect souls.
With the rules changed, the old cycle where souls entered reincarnation immediately after death no longer existed. One moment, a dying man was delivering his last words; the next, he stood beside his own corpse, watching his children weep over his body while two fierce-looking ghosts flanked him.
"Brother Ghost, I didn’t finish my last words—where are you taking me?"
"Down below for processing."
"But what about my last words?"
"If you pass the first gate, your words might still reach them."
The enforcer wasn’t wrong. The ghost city of the Underworld now offered a new service: dream messages.
The original Thirteen Guardians each managed a department, though the easiest job went to the Water Ghost. Since he couldn’t speak, his only duty was to row his boat twice a day, ferrying souls from the other shore. The rest of the time, he lounged in the water, grinning foolishly.
Meanwhile, in the mortal realm, thanks to certain efforts, the old Thirteen Guardians’ temples were rebranded as Underworld Temples.
Inside stood thirteen neatly arranged statues of vengeful spirits. At the center was an opera performer with flowing sleeves, followed by a woman in a red wedding dress, a bare-chested man clutching his own head, a girl with hair covering her face...
Their enemies were still alive—but suffering fates worse than death. Their homes had become long-term training sites for the Underworld. What was once a screening process for vengeful spirits now served as internships for new enforcers.
Most, including Squire Ma, had gone mad after a few scares. The rest of their families gradually grew accustomed—moving furniture and shadowy figures in the rooms became mundane occurrences.
"This humble one, Chen Daniu, greets the Judge!" A skeletal male ghost knelt on the ground, trembling as he looked up.
Hearing the name, Bai Jingtian, who had been reading, slowly raised his head. "Someone, go call Sister Xiulian from the neighboring department. Tell her a gift has arrived."
No sooner had he spoken than another ghost was dragged in. Bai Jingtian took one look and grinned. "A double celebration!" An old acquaintance!
When the two kneeling ghosts saw the woman who walked in and sat beside Bai Jingtian, their terror nearly solidified.
"Xiulian! Xiulian! I’m your father, Xiulian!"
Butcher Zheng opened his mouth but couldn’t speak—years of torment had left him numb.
"Just judge them by their sins in life. Why call me here?" Xiulian smacked Bai Jingtian lightly.
Bai Jingtian rubbed his head. "Sister Xiulian, the boss always said the chance would come. Well, here it is."
Xiulian glanced indifferently at the trembling ghosts below and shook her head. "Pointless." After a few steps, she turned back. "Didn’t the boss assign someone to develop new prison cells? Let them test those."
Bai Jingtian grimaced, as if recalling something horrifying. "Women... truly, never cross them."
Squire Ma, He Wei, and others all reported in—most were thrown into Fang Zhiyi’s experimental cells. Any enforcer who saw them felt their (nonexistent) hearts stop.
After a long wait, Ma Xiuyun finally arrived. Her life had been miserable—her story of betrayal spread far and wide, forcing her into hiding. He Wei abandoned her, and she married an ordinary man who treated her poorly, especially after she proved infertile. Beaten regularly, she lived in constant fear of death and the torment awaiting her in the afterlife. Desperate for longevity, she killed her husband, sold their property, and fled, surviving through ruthless means.
But no one lives forever.
Now, staring at the cold-faced Fang Zhiyi seated above her, Ma Xiuyun begged for mercy.
At that moment, Xiao Hei, who had barely recovered, switched Fang Zhiyi back—this was also the host's intention. He wanted to see if the original soul had what it took to control this hell teeming with malevolent spirits.
"Xiuyun," the original soul said, looking at her with a complicated gaze. "I gave you a chance before. I told you there was still time."
Ma Xiuyun's clouded eyes flickered. So that was what it meant?
"If you had spent the rest of your life as a righteous person who could distinguish right from wrong, the worst you'd face was a ten-year delay in reincarnation. But you kept making mistakes—using false virtue to harm others in your early years, then sacrificing lives for your own survival in your later years."
"Let's go," Fang Zhiyi nodded, turning to Xiao Hei.