Chapter Eighty-Two: Punishment

In the shadows, a deep and penetrating gaze watched Lu Qian, who knelt on the floor. Merely being under those stares made it hard for Lu Qian to breathe; his entire body felt stiff and numb. He realized there was an unopened black lotus pattern on his neck, from which a steady stream of dark energy invaded his mind.

“What a powerful presence—could this be a true Daoist Master? And what is this black lotus?” Lu Qian wondered silently. Considering his encounter with someone suspected of communicating with the netherworld before losing consciousness, he knew he had truly entered the highest echelons of attention.

“Lu Qian, you have slain your fellow disciples. You are sentenced to suffer the torment of soul-burning shadow fire and the body-devouring thunder, until you can never reincarnate and your soul is utterly destroyed. Do you understand your crime?”

From the darkness, a massive head emerged. Its face was indigo blue, its eyes like bronze bells, sharp fangs protruding, and the horned ridges atop its head nearly pierced the grand hall’s ceiling. As it spoke, it exhaled a noxious, greenish haze reeking of sulfur.

The oppressive force on Lu Qian intensified. Hearing these words, he lifted his head, silently reciting the Clear Mind Mantra, which eased the pressure somewhat. He replied, “I do not admit guilt. Li Mingyou tried to kill me—I was only acting in self-defense.”

This grand hall must be the legendary Hall of Punishment. Before him, this Yaksha demon was the Hall Master, the True Person Chi Hai.

“Insolent! You killed Li Mingyou’s nephew, Li Lin, first!” Chi Hai’s voice was deep and forbidding. “I ask again, do you confess? If you conceal anything, you will face severe punishment!”

The Yaksha demon’s face twisted with ferocity, as if he meant to devour Lu Qian alive. The moment the Yaksha shouted, the surrounding monsters and spirits erupted in clamorous uproar. Their shrill, piercing voices unsettled the mind, and a boundless pressure descended like a crushing lid.

Lu Qian became dazed, feeling an urge to speak his innermost truth. At that moment, a wave of energy rippled from the Flood Dragon Yellow Springs Diagram within his consciousness, snapping him back to clarity.

“Hall Master, I acted in legitimate self-defense; they attacked first,” he declared.

Seeing Lu Qian regain composure, Chi Hai, though outwardly fierce, inwardly felt a measure of approval. He knew Lu Qian was lying, yet to lie before him required extraordinary willpower. Even those in the Spirit Cultivation stage could not endure his interrogation, let alone an ordinary Qi-practicing Daoist.

Li Du’s disciple was indeed remarkable. A pity…

The Netherworld’s avatar had personally brought him in. With multiple witnesses, today’s sentence must be soul annihilation.

Outside the hall, three figures stood in a gloomy forest.

“Master, though there were some twists, I have planted the black lotus,” said Long’er to the beautiful woman beside her.

Once the thunder fire consumes his body and breaks his spirit, the black lotus will take root and sprout. Long’er had not wanted to rely on the sect’s power—it made her seem incompetent. Yet Lu Qian was simply too formidable, able to kill even early-stage Spirit Cultivators. His magical artifacts were excellent, and soon they would be hers.

Beside the woman stood an elderly man with white hair.

Liu Ruoyan glanced at Li Du and remarked, “It seems your disciple’s days are numbered.”

“Li Lang, let’s make a deal. Open your mind, let me plant the demonic lotus, and I’ll protect your disciple, cancel the demonic seed. Rest assured, for the sake of old friendship, I won’t make things difficult.”

Li Du, hair and beard snowy white, stood calm and untroubled. Though his life was in others’ hands, he met Liu Ruyi’s gaze directly, making her somewhat uncomfortable. Liu Ruyi felt vexed, but sensed a slight loosening of the demonic seed. Clearly, targeting Lu Qian had been wise.

With success imminent, Liu Ruyi felt less composed than usual. She pressed again, “Li Lang, you’re not long for this world—why not give the younger generation a chance?”

The atmosphere grew tense, but Li Du remained silent.

Inside the hall.

The Yaksha demon’s head lowered to within three feet of Lu Qian, its millstone-sized skull radiating suffocating pressure, its sulfurous breath nearly unbearable.

“Take this stubborn, unrepentant wretch to the dungeon—execute him immediately!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A volley of footsteps resounded. Two blue-skinned Yakshas dragged soul-locking black chains, each as thick as an arm. Blood-stained shackles dangled at the ends. Once shackled, a Daoist would lose all strength, unable to cast any spells, an easy victim.

Lu Qian’s expression hardened. White-hot Netherworld fire surged, true energy billowed, his robes snapped in the gust. Within a three-yard radius, the jade floor upheaved, stones flew into the air.

If he must die, he would resist to the end!

……

At that moment, a crimson light illuminated the hall, and a sinister divine will pressed down. His magic instantly collapsed.

Click!

The shackles clamped onto his wrists, and Lu Qian felt his energy drain away.

The two Yakshas escorted him deeper underground.

Down the spiral stairs, lit by shark-oil eternal lamps.

After descending hundreds of meters, they finally left the staircase.

Before him was a vast magma pool, ghostly green flames flickering incessantly. Along both sides were a dozen separate torture zones: some with boiling oil cauldrons, some with mountains of blades. There was also a blood-sucking demonic tree and a chamber filled with sharp-fanged stone slabs, gnawing at flesh like living creatures.

Every zone held prisoners undergoing torment. Black-robed, high-hatted figures oversaw the punishments, periodically smearing medicines on prisoners to prevent them from dying before their suffering was complete. Meanwhile, white-robed patrols tossed corpses into the magma, reducing them to ashes in an instant.

“Hey! Another newcomer.”

“Looks like a Qi-practicing Daoist—quite decent looking. Wonder who he offended.”

“Heh, who cares? Haven’t tortured a Qi-practicing Daoist in ages.”

The prisoners stared at Lu Qian with vicious anticipation, rubbing their hands together, eager and excited.

Lu Qian remained silent, as if resigned to his fate. His luck was abysmal; upon leaving seclusion, he was hunted by powerful enemies. After defeating them, he intended to escape, but ran into Long’er.

He could have fled; with determination, he could outrun Long’er, who hadn’t even reached the Spirit Cultivation stage. Reaching thousands of miles away, before the temple could react, his skills in concealment and his aquatic dragon senses would have hidden him perfectly. They would never have found him.

He had done all he could, but the Netherworld Daoist intervened, unleashing his power from the start. There was simply no way out.

To be powerless, at the mercy of others, was a bitter feeling.

He remembered his time at Mo Liang Temple.

“It seems I must start over,” Lu Qian sighed inwardly.

Yes, he still had one method.

After mastering the Spirit Projection Technique, his divided divine sense could survive independently for a time. This was not an external incarnation, but a way for the main soul to dissipate and transfer into the split soul.

That divine sense was hidden beneath the paper doll buried in his residence in Tongquan City. The drawback was a damaged consciousness, but it was better than complete annihilation.

Just as the black-robed figures prepared to drag Lu Qian off for punishment, a group of yellow-robed men burst in.

“By order of the Hall Master, release the prisoner Lu Qian.”