100. Great Sunset of the Yellow Springs

The vast, boundless expanse of the Netherworld stretched out before them. Chen Huangpi rode atop Golden Horn, racing toward the direction of Fallen Soul Mountain.

The mountain was a thousand miles away, but Golden Horn’s speed was immense; they would arrive in half an hour. At this rate, they would certainly return to the mortal realm before nightfall. Suddenly, the Soul-Snatching Register emitted a chill.

"Master, I don't understand, I truly don't," the Death-Seeking Ghost blurted out. "Back when I was in the Yellow Springs, I rode the Ferryman’s bamboo raft several times, but this time, the raft was so fast it felt alien. I saw the old wretch rowing until his pole left afterimages. That Ferryman... he seemed terrified of you, Master."

"No kidding," piped up the brass oil lamp hanging from Golden Horn’s head. "That old coot must have seen through Chen Huangpi’s true nature. From haughty to humble, he naturally couldn't afford to be arrogant anymore."

"But what did he mean when he said I was a part of the Netherworld?" Chen Huangpi frowned, feeling a strange unease. He was born from an egg; what could he possibly have to do with the Yellow Springs?

The brass oil lamp mused, "Chen Huangpi, before you started cultivating, your skin was very yellow, and the Yellow Springs is also quite yellow." It pointed to the dark earth beneath them. "This soil is very black. And those ghost-runes on your body—the ones that look like birds, fish, and insects—are precisely gold and black."

"So?"

"Gold and yellow are one and the same. Gold is yellow, and yellow is gold." The brass lamp made a bold inference: "Perhaps you were born of the Netherworld. The Yellow Springs is your mother, and the dark earth is your father!"

Hearing this absurdity, Chen Huangpi scoffed, "Then do my parents have any family estate to leave me?"

"Master," the Death-Seeking Ghost said gloomily, "the Netherworld is not a living entity; it has no concept of an estate. Besides, don't listen to Yellow Two’s wild guesses. You were truly not born of the Netherworld."

"That’s right, only the Yin Emperor was," Golden Horn chimed in, shaking its head. "Creatures like us have memories of that supreme being from the moment of our birth. The Yin Emperor emerged from the source of the Yellow Springs and the dark earth to rule over all; it is the true sovereign."

"I see. The Yin Emperor is the sovereign of the Netherworld. Is it still alive?"

"Father Huangpi, I don't know..." Golden Horn shook its head again. "Before I left, I could still sense its aura, but now that I’ve returned, I feel nothing at all. Perhaps it left; after all, the Netherworld itself is in trouble."

"It didn't leave. It just died," the Death-Seeking Ghost remarked suddenly.

This left Chen Huangpi baffled. "Can such a powerful existence die?" The brass oil lamp was still alive and well. Even Yi Qingzhou, though he had become an evil entity, was in a sense still alive. The same went for the Great God Guangmu. The Yin Emperor ruled the entire Netherworld; surely it couldn't be inferior to the Taoists or the deities worshiped in the Pure Immortal Temple?

"The Yin Emperor is truly dead," the ghost’s voice drifted. "And I saw it with my own eyes. Otherwise, why would I have fled to the mortal realm?"

Unlike Golden and Silver Horn, who had rushed to volunteer as gatekeepers when the Daoist temple masters began creating gods to dig for yellow mud at the start of the world’s upheaval, the Death-Seeking Ghost had arrived in the mortal realm much later. Though it seemed like a short time, a day in the mortal realm was a year underground.

By the time the Death-Seeking Ghost left with the Soul-Snatching Register, tens of thousands of years had passed since Golden Horn had departed. Revisiting this place, the old landscape was gone. The ghost felt a heavy depression in its chest and sighed, "The Yin Emperor ruled all, established the eighteen levels of hell, and commanded the Ten Yama Kings. The patriarch of my Yellow Springs clan was the Yama of the Ninth Palace, and I was merely a low-ranking official in the Yama Palace in charge of the Soul-Snatching Register."

Unlike the legends in the mortal world, in the Netherworld, "Yama" was merely a title.

"Wait," Chen Huangpi cut in. "Ghost, if your clan patriarch was the Yama of the Ninth Palace and you were a low official, are you the son of a Yama?"

"Master, what are you saying!" the ghost retorted indignantly. "I earned my position in the Yama Palace through layers of selection. It was all my own effort and talent!"

"Then what is your relationship to the Yama?"

"Just a trivial blood relation." The ghost sighed melancholically. "Besides, that Yama died along with the Yin Emperor. There’s no point in discussing it now."

Chen Huangpi understood immediately: the ghost was definitely the Yama's son. He thought to himself, *Ghost is truly shameless. It couldn't even beat the Demonic Tree in its prime—where is the talent or effort? It’s clearly a nepotism hire. Thank goodness I don’t rely on connections as a master, or my reputation would be ruined.*

Aloud, he asked, "Ghost, how did that Yama with the 'trivial' blood relation die with the Yin Emperor? If you could run to the mortal realm, couldn't it?"

"There can only be one Death-Seeking Ghost in the Soul-Snatching Register."

"I’m sorry..." Chen Huangpi said quickly. "I didn't know. I didn't mean it."

"It’s fine. The Yama and I truly weren't father and son," the ghost laughed. "Besides, it was out of its mind. When that sun fell into the Netherworld, it was one thing for the Yin Emperor to try and stop it, but the Yama insisted on following, claiming the Yin Emperor treated it so well that it would rather die than be separated. It was as ridiculous as the mortal talk of 'ruler and subject.' The Yin Emperor didn't ask it to come, but it insisted on throwing its life away. In the end, it fell into the sun along with the Yin Emperor. Even now, I still think it was brainless."

With that, the ghost fell silent, appearing utterly disheartened. Golden Horn also remained quiet, looking up at the dim, yellow sky. There was no sun or moon in the Netherworld. During the day, it was always this murky yellow; at night, it was desolate and chilling. If a real sun had fallen into the Netherworld, it must have been a terrifying event—so terrifying that the Yin Emperor and the Yamas had all perished, falling into the sun, leaving not even ashes behind.

Yet, why could no trace of that sun be seen? Chen Huangpi pondered this. He asked the brass lamp, "Yi Qingzhou is an immortal who can freeze time and catch stars and moons. If the Yin Emperor was so powerful, why was it killed by a mere sun?"

"Chen Huangpi, you don't understand," the lamp replied. "The sun represents the Day and the Yang. The alternation of sun and moon, the convergence of Yin and Yang—this is the law of heaven and earth, not some ordinary star. Look at the world after the upheaval; did the sun and moon disappear? They are still hanging in the sky. A sun falling into the Netherworld means the laws of heaven and earth have malfunctioned. The Yin Emperor wasn't helpless against the sun; it was helpless against the laws of heaven and earth."

"And Master?" Chen Huangpi asked. "Chen Huang said Master is close to the Dao. Couldn't Master do it?"

"The Temple Master could, naturally," the lamp said. "If the Temple Master couldn't, then no one could."

Hearing this, a thought struck Chen Huangpi. He whispered, "Yellow Two, tell me privately—besides Master, can anyone else alter the laws of heaven and earth?"

"No, at least not that I know of," the lamp replied suspiciously. "Why do you ask? You aren't suspecting that the Temple Master threw that sun into the Netherworld, are you?"

"I’m just curious." Chen Huangpi certainly didn't believe it. The Pure Immortal Temple was a righteous sect. If his master had thrown a sun into the Netherworld, he would be a great demon king, and Chen Huangpi would be a little demon prince. "Master and I are both good people; he wouldn't do such a thing."

Just then, Chen Huangpi spotted a massive black mountain. It was so tall it seemed to touch the very ceiling of the Netherworld. Golden Horn’s speed didn't slacken; it grew even faster until the mountain filled Chen Huangpi’s entire field of vision.

"Father Huangpi, this is Fallen Soul Mountain."

"Good, let’s go up and get the Soul-Returning Treasure Jade!" Chen Huangpi’s heart raced. There were still seven and a half hours until nightfall. There was time.

"Wait, this mountain feels wrong," the brass lamp said, a sense of unease creeping in. "Chen Huangpi, Ghost, Golden Horn—do you feel that?"

Chen Huangpi’s expression turned grim. "I feel it. The mountain... it feels alive."

Golden Horn added, "I can hear its heartbeat. It’s pounding like a drum. Wait, why is my heart beating along with it? I don't even have a physical body..."

"Stop!" the Death-Seeking Ghost cried. "This mountain is not right!"