104. The Son of Darkness

The mention of "god-making" suddenly made everything look different.

Looking at those evil spirits working diligently with their pickaxes, as if they were mining, Chen Huangpi felt something was deeply wrong. Yi Qingzhou had once said that his physical body had drifted through the netherworld of the Yellow Springs for a long time and had seen things forging gods—a cycle that repeated day and night, never-ending. That was thousands of years ago, and now, after Chen Huangpi’s return to the Yellow Springs, an indeterminate amount of time had passed. In this situation, how could he not connect the two?

"Ghost, can the Soul-Returning Jade forge gods?"

"I do not know..."

"Not knowing does not mean it is impossible." Chen Huangpi murmured, "Yellow clay is used to forge gods, but when Xu Qingshan forged the Fox Mountain God and the Yellow Plague, he chose a strange stone; that stone was the primary material, while the yellow clay merely granted them the ability to change. Perhaps the Soul-Returning Jade can also forge gods."

Previously, Chen Huangpi had wanted the High God Guangmu to descend into the Yellow Springs with him, but was refused. Because Guangmu was a god of the mortal world, entering the Yellow Springs would cause him to be consumed by boundless karmic fire. Conversely, the gods forged from yellow clay would not suffer such a fate, as the clay itself originated from the Yellow Springs. Of course, the Yellow Springs had its own gods, known as Yin Gods.

"What are these evil spirits using to forge?"

The brass oil lamp shook its head and said, "Even if the Soul-Returning Jade could forge gods, and even if this Yellow Springs produces the yellow clay, without the refinement of Huang Yi, they would merely be clay and wood idols. Do not forget, Huang Yi is still hanging in the world within the Painting of Flying Immortals."

Hearing this, Chen Huangpi felt it made some sense, yet he still felt that something was off. The Golden-Crowned Heavenly Lamp, also known as Huang Yi, was indeed hanging in the world of the Flying Immortals painting. After the painting vanished, Huang Yi had never appeared again; at least, not since Chen Huangpi had been conscious at the Immortal Purification Temple. But Yi Qingzhou’s words could not be false. Chen Huangpi was the temple master’s disciple, and Yi Qingzhou even knew he was an egg—in a sense, they were family. Why would family lie?

Thinking of this, Chen Huangpi frowned and asked, "Huang Er, do you think it is possible that Huang Yi..."

"Impossible." The brass oil lamp sneered. "I am its own brother, born from the same furnace. If it were here in the Yellow Springs, how could I not sense it? Besides, its mind is dead; no one but the temple master could command it." The brass oil lamp hated Huang Yi the most, but it had to admit that Huang Yi was indeed powerful—it had simply exhausted its potential. As for itself, that was where the real future lay.

"Huang Er, that is not what I meant." Chen Huangpi explained, "I meant, besides Huang Yi, is there anything else that can refine gods?"

"For example?"

"For example, you. You are the Nine-Nether Divine Lamp; could you not refine gods?"

"Me? Me?" The brass oil lamp was stunned. "I have that ability? When the temple master forged me, wasn't it because there were too many scraps left over and he thought he might as well put them to use? Could it be that the temple master had other intentions? I actually have infinite potential, just like Huang Yi!" Upon this realization, the brass oil lamp was ecstatic, unable to stop itself from dancing with joy. "So what if it is the Golden-Crowned Heavenly Lamp? I, the Nine-Nether Divine Lamp, can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with it."

"So, can you refine gods?"

"..."

Chen Huangpi’s single question silenced the brass oil lamp. Indeed... could it refine gods? The brass oil lamp racked its brain, reviewing every memory of its existence. Finally, it said dejectedly, "No, I do not have that ability." If it could, it would have been showing off in the Immortal Purification Temple long ago. The brass oil lamp sighed, "Even if I could, I have been with you the whole time; how could I have snuck off to the Yellow Springs to forge Yin Gods?"

Chen Huangpi was about to continue, but suddenly, several urgent gazes turned toward him. Those looks were laced with annoyance, as if to say: "We are all working; why are you slacking off?" Chen Huangpi, with a bitter face, dared not be distracted further and immediately swung his pickaxe hard against the ground.

Clang, clang, clang!

He did not know what the pickaxe was made of. It looked blunt and rough, yet when it struck the stone of the Desolate Mountain, it was like a coagulant hitting tofu—a single blow shattered the rock. At the same time, a howl of agony surged through the pickaxe and into Chen Huangpi’s heart. The wail was so visceral that it shook Chen Huangpi with pain.

"It is the Desolate Mountain. The Desolate Mountain is wailing." Chen Huangpi gritted his teeth and said, "Good, let it hurt! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here doing hard labor for no pay. Today, I am going to dig a hole through you, or else I shall not find peace." He hated the Desolate Mountain intensely, so he swung the pickaxe even harder. As he struck wildly, a large pit was dug into the hard mountain body in the blink of an eye. The evil spirits, seeing this, cast glances of surprise and approval.

Clang, clang, clang!

Chen Huangpi swung the pickaxe, his body sinking deeper and deeper at a visible rate. The wails of the Desolate Mountain continued, one after another, an endless, demonic sound piercing his ears. Chen Huangpi was in agony. But just then, as if sensing his pain, the Six Yin Gods in his mind—which had been dormant since he entered the Yellow Springs—suddenly twitched.

In the next second, a cold yet gentle force surged from between his brows. Chen Huangpi felt as if he had fallen into an ice cavern; the agonizing, demonic noise vanished instantly. However, the pain did not disappear; it merely shifted. Chen Huangpi no longer felt it, as he was obsessed with digging a hole through the mountain for revenge, but inside his kidney temple, a painful howl erupted. The Demonic Tree was screaming—even louder than the mountain—but Chen Huangpi could not hear it.

"Strange, why do I feel my power growing?" Chen Huangpi said in surprise. "Could it be that I have been watering the Demonic Tree diligently lately, and it, like me, is a sentimental creature, so it is surrendering to me out of gratitude?" Since entering the kidney temple, if he didn't water it, the tree wouldn't release a shred of power, struggling desperately against the extraction of the black smoke. After all, it was a god of the kidney temple. Yet now, Chen Huangpi found that the tree’s power was pouring out like a floodgate opening. If it had previously provided only ten percent of its power, it had now doubled.

"Good tree!" Chen Huangpi said, moved. "It is easy to add flowers to brocade, but hard to provide charcoal in the snow. Now that I am doing forced labor here under the control of evil spirits, the tree has acted so well; I cannot treat it poorly in the future. I must water it day and night to repay it."

Watering was simple. The Soul-Snatching Book contained plenty of water; Chen Huangpi would water it whenever he remembered, though he had forgotten since entering the God-Burial Tomb and arriving in the Yellow Springs. Now, with a thought, the water from the book appeared in the kidney temple and was poured onto the tree, which was bound by chains of black smoke.

"Fifty percent power!" Chen Huangpi was ecstatic; the power came so quickly that tree branches even sprouted from his ears. He didn't care; his eyes were set only on the mountain. "Sixty percent! Seventy percent!"

Just then, a long, thin arm grabbed Chen Huangpi’s shoulder and pulled him straight up.

"Let go of me!" Chen Huangpi said angrily. "You dragged me here for forced labor, and now that I am working hard, why are you stopping me?"

The evil spirits tilted their heads and pointed at the large pit on the ground. It was three meters wide and, looking down, it was incredibly deep—no longer just a pit, but a tunnel. Outside the tunnel, stones and soil were piled into a small hill. Only then did Chen Huangpi notice that each of the evil spirits was holding a small, transparent stone.

"Contract Master, that is the Soul-Returning Jade." The Soul-Snatching Ghost said excitedly, "They really are digging for Soul-Returning Jade."

"Then why didn't I find any?" Chen Huangpi looked blankly at the small hill he had dug up. The hill was tall, with most of it shrouded in dark clouds. The evil spirits looked at Chen Huangpi with confusion. Then, as if remembering something, an evil spirit grabbed a pickaxe, walked to the hill, picked up a stone, and struck it.

With a clang, the stone split open, but there was nothing inside. The spirit wasn't discouraged and picked another. This time, Chen Huangpi saw a piece of Soul-Returning Jade the size of a fingernail. The spirit handed it to Chen Huangpi. As he held it, the Six Yin Gods in his mind jumped violently.

"Fragrant, so fragrant..." Chen Huangpi swallowed, his eyes fixed on the jade. It had no unusual properties; it looked like a transparent pebble. If he didn't know what it was, he wouldn't even look at it on the side of the road.

Gurgle...

Chen Huangpi’s stomach growled. To be precise, it was the stomach of the Six Yin Gods in his mind. The Yin-Yang Harmonization God-Refining Technique cultivated the soul and the spirit. The Six Yin Gods were his soul; the Six Yang Gods were his spirit. When Yin and Yang harmonize, the Primordial Spirit is formed!

Hunger—unparalleled hunger. Chen Huangpi had never felt so hungry in his life. Subconsciously, he swallowed the Soul-Returning Jade.

In the next second, shocked gazes locked onto him. The evil spirits recoiled as if they had seen a ghost.

"It melts in the mouth, very smooth, and a bit sweet." Chen Huangpi smacked his lips and looked at the spirits, who also had jade in their hands. It smelled just as good... Seeing this, the spirits immediately hid their jade inside their black robes. The fragrance vanished instantly.

"So stingy." Chen Huangpi pouted, looking at the hill he had dug himself. "Self-reliance is the key to abundance. I feel that after eating this, my Six Yin Gods are coming to life. How strange, was it dead before?" As he spoke, he used his hands and feet to climb up with his pickaxe.

The brass oil lamp said nervously, "Chen Huangpi, do not mess around! That jade is meant to save the temple master. If you eat it all, what will happen to him?"

"Don't worry, I will save the biggest one for Master."

"That is not the point! Are you sure this thing is for people to eat?"

"I am not a person."

"You could be!"

"Then I am the standard!"

The hill he had dug reached straight into the dark clouds, piled high with black stone and soil. The evil spirits circled below, looking at each other, their gazes beneath their hats incredibly eerie, as if they had never seen one of their own treat Soul-Returning Jade as a meal.

By now, Chen Huangpi had climbed to the top, where the dark clouds hung overhead. He intended to reach the peak, then work his way down, splitting the stones and eating them bit by bit.

"I’m up!" Chen Huangpi happily plunged his head into the dark clouds. Then, he immediately pulled it back.

"I’m down." Chen Huangpi’s face was flushed, his heart pounding wildly. He had seen a sun—a burning sun, embedded in the brow of a face so vast it was impossible to describe. The face had its eyes closed, long dead. The skin was covered in pitch-black characters—the nether-script of the Yellow Springs. The face was boundless, covering the entire Yellow Springs as if it were the sky itself.

It was the Son of Heaven of the Yin.