Chapter Forty-Seven: The Emperor’s Temple

As soon as the words were spoken, the paper figurines scattered around the ghost soldiers suddenly burst into golden flames. Out of the fire, warriors clad in gold armor and wielding long blades appeared, engaging the dark-armored ghost soldiers in fierce combat.

Seeing this, the Scholar of Yin and Yang let out a twisted, cackling laugh. He snapped open his black-and-white folding fan and, with a casual sweep, instantly sliced two golden-armored warriors in half. Two paper figurines, severed at the waist, appeared in his hands.

He gazed at the paper figurines with a mad, obsessed look, then glanced at Wang Bilin, who stood at the door, ceaselessly forming seals and chanting incantations. Smiling, he said, "I never thought there would be a master of the art of folding paper into soldiers here in the City of Unjust Death. This trip was truly worthwhile."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the Scholar of Yin and Yang closed his fan, releasing a thick, oppressive aura of darkness. With a sudden flash, he shot directly in front of Wang Bilin. The fan opened again, and a bloody wound instantly appeared across Wang Bilin’s chest.

Meanwhile, Fu Yi urged the three of us out the back door of the paper workshop at the fastest speed. A carriage had already been prepared, drawn by three magnificent horses whose coats were the color of blood. I recognized them at once—they were the legendary blood-sweating steeds Wang Bilin had mentioned.

Fu Yi hurried us onto the carriage, taking the reins himself. With a crack of the whip, the three blood-sweating horses shot forward like rockets, covering several hundred meters in an instant.

Their terrifying speed surpassed even the finest sports cars in the living world.

The area around the paper workshop was already surrounded by ghost soldiers. As we climbed into the carriage, at least thirty of them rushed after us. But they never expected we would have three blood-sweating steeds. By the time they reacted, we had already left them far behind, utterly unable to catch up.

Fu Yi drove the horses at breakneck speed, while the three of us sat silently inside the carriage. Wang Feiyang’s face remained dark and grim, his hands gripping his bamboo blade and the book of paper soldier folding techniques Wang Bilin had just given him. His eyes were filled with sorrow and murderous intent.

Neither I nor Lu Li knew how to comfort him. We both understood clearly that Wang Bilin’s chances of survival were nearly zero.

Wang Feiyang had recently lost his entire family, and now, after finally reuniting with his grandfather in the City of Unjust Death, he had to watch him perish so quickly. Anyone would be unable to bear such pain.

I gently patted Wang Feiyang on the shoulder and discovered a pack of cigarettes in my bag. I looked to Lu Li, signaling him to use his Daoist technique to conjure fire for me.

Lu Li recited a string of incantations, and a flame appeared at his fingertip. I lit two cigarettes, placed one in Wang Feiyang’s mouth, took one for myself, and asked Lu Li if he wanted one.

He shook his head, saying he didn’t smoke. I didn’t press him and continued smoking, one after another.

I had no idea how long Fu Yi drove us through the city. In the City of Unjust Death, there was no distinction between day and night. All I knew was that I smoked a cigarette roughly every half hour, and by the time Wang Feiyang and I finished the entire pack, Fu Yi finally stopped the carriage.

When we got out, we found ourselves far beyond the city limits, in a desolate area. Directly ahead stood a rickety, weather-beaten temple, thick with dust and abandoned for years.

I was puzzled why such a dilapidated temple existed in the City of Unjust Death and asked Fu Yi where we were.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Fu Yi replied, "Young master, this is the Temple of the Dark Emperor."

"The Temple of the Dark Emperor?" I asked, confused. "Which dynasty’s emperor is enshrined here?"

Fu Yi didn’t answer right away but led us inside. Within the temple stood a towering statue, about three meters high, clad in black battle robes and holding a black dragon-shaped spear. The statue’s brows were sharp and fierce, exuding an imposing aura. Though covered in dust and cobwebs, nothing could conceal its commanding presence.

Looking at the statue, I felt an inexplicable urge to kneel and worship.

I searched my mind for images of emperors from every dynasty, but none matched this statue. Unable to contain my curiosity, I asked again: which emperor did this statue represent?

"The Dark Emperor," Fu Yi replied.

His answer startled me. I instinctively asked if it was the East Mountain Lord, Huang Feihu.

Fu Yi explained that the rumor of Huang Feihu being the Dark Emperor was merely worldly gossip. In truth, the real Dark Emperor was the supreme ruler of the underworld before the Ten Kings of Hell. About two thousand years ago, a great catastrophe struck the underworld. The Dark Emperor perished in that disaster, paving the way for the Ten Kings to rule.

"A catastrophe?" I frowned. "What happened two thousand years ago to devastate the underworld? Why would the supreme ruler fall?"

Fu Yi shook his head. He had only been in the underworld for about a decade, and what he knew about the Dark Emperor came from other spirits. He didn’t know much. After that calamity, the Dark Emperor vanished, and the Ten Kings took over. Yet the legend of the Dark Emperor persisted in the underworld.

Gazing at the statue before me, I felt a strange, indescribable sensation. Then I noticed an incense burner at the statue’s feet, with three sticks of incense burning halfway.

I was startled—someone must have recently come to worship the Dark Emperor.

Fu Yi noticed the incense as well, his face full of surprise. He remarked that the temple had been abandoned for years, with no spirits coming to worship, so it was odd that someone had offered incense now.

"Perhaps a passing soul stopped to pay respects," Lu Li said nearby. "Since we’re here, we shouldn’t neglect courtesy. As the former master of the underworld, the Dark Emperor deserves our homage."

Lu Li asked Fu Yi if he had incense. Fu Yi quickly retrieved some from the carriage, and together we knelt and paid our respects to the statue.

But Wang Feiyang seemed unmoved by the Dark Emperor. Since leaving the carriage, he stood coldly at the temple entrance, repeatedly stroking his bamboo blade.

Knowing Wang Feiyang was suffering, I didn’t urge him to join us. After the incense was offered, Fu Yi suggested we rest here for a while. He had already driven the blood-sweating horses over four hundred li, and the ghost soldiers wouldn’t catch up soon.

Fu Yi went to fetch bedding from the carriage. I hurriedly told him not to bother; we weren’t picky and could simply sit on the ground.

But Fu Yi insisted, saying the boss had ordered him to take care of us, so he couldn’t be negligent. Watching his determined back, I grew curious about his past and wondered what kind of favor Wang Bilin had shown him to earn such loyalty.

Just as I stepped forward to ask him about it and offer a hand, Fu Yi, who was about to enter the carriage, suddenly froze. My heart tightened, and I called out to him.

He didn’t respond, his body still as if caught in a binding spell.

The next second, a crack appeared on Fu Yi’s body, running from the top of his head to his groin. With a sickening sound, blood burst from the fissure, and his whole body split in two.

A genius remembers this site in a single second. Sogou mobile reading website: