Chapter 599 | Demonic Beings? Obviously Auspicious Omens!

“If Squire Zhou had asked you to use your own silver to compensate for his losses at that time, would you still have been willing to save those people?”

“Of course. I had saved up quite a bit of silver over those years. I would have been willing to give it all. I would have even... even been willing to serve the master for free for the rest of my life. Shen Liang would have been content with that.”

“The master showed Shen Liang great kindness by recognizing my worth. Shen Liang was always grateful while he was alive.”

Wu Gou nodded. He could tell what kind of person Shen Liang had been from just these few words. How could Squire Zhou, who had spent ten years with him, not have known?

Squire Zhou must have been well aware; otherwise, he wouldn't have placed Shen Liang in such a position of trust.

But why, at the final moment, did Squire Zhou choose to make a losing deal, discarding his accountant to save a few bags of grain that were insignificant to him?

If he were a purely self-interested, shrewd businessman, he should have taken advantage of the disaster and Shen Liang’s kindness to exploit him. He could have forced him to sign a permanent contract of indenture in exchange for those bags of rice.

Or was it that he didn't want to save the grain, but rather that someone had to die because of the disaster?

Shen Liang saved people, so did he have to fill that vacancy with his own life?

Would a small rice shop owner have such deep involvement with a natural disaster in the Southern Tang?

Wu Gou was completely baffled, but his expression remained unchanged. He simply said calmly, “Then that is enough.”

“What you did was because you wanted to do it. You sought to be clear before heaven and earth, and clear before yourself. You did not do it to plot for anything else.”

“You cannot believe you were wrong simply because of how someone else treated you. Even if heaven and earth do not acknowledge it, and karma does not acknowledge it, you can acknowledge it yourself.”

“Benefactor, you have been trapped on that day for a hundred and ten thousand years. Do you really think it is because you cannot let go of that master?”

“It is because you are blaming yourself.”

“You blame yourself for being too foolish, for misjudging a person, and for having your kindness met with a bad end.”

“You feel that the ten years of kindness were a lie. But let me ask you—”

“During those ten years, when you worked for Squire Zhou, did your heart ever feel at peace?”

Shen Liang was stunned for a moment. He thought about it and nodded.

“It did.”

“When you received your wages and sent them home, did your heart ever feel joy?”

“It did.”

“When you were praised for your capability, did your heart ever feel pride?”

Shen Liang nodded somewhat sheepishly. “...I felt proud.”

Wu Gou smiled slightly. “Then it was real.”

“Every person has their own karma, and every person has their own retribution. Perhaps he later drowned in the flood as well, and perhaps it was because of this that you were able to enter the Ghost Mansion to cultivate.”

“A blessing in disguise.”

On the high platform, Xuandu’s features softened. A gentle smile, a rare sight, appeared on his face, which was usually as cold as ten-thousand-year ice.

He had been worried earlier that the difficulty of the second trial was too high and had been considering whether to go easy on Chen Zhou’s subordinate god.

He hadn't expected this little monk’s soul age to be so young as well.

Being able to return the water ghost Shen Liang to a human form indicated that the little monk’s soul age was under thirty. After all, Shen Liang was around thirty when he died.

A thirty-year-old Wenchang Noble with the cultivation of the second symbiosis contract, who also possessed such profound Buddhist dharma and compassion.

With such talent and character, he was more than qualified to inherit his Ghost Mansion.

Xuandu turned to look at Dongming in the corner.

Dongming had his arms crossed, his face expressionless, but a gray light flickered slightly in his ghost eyes.

He was also looking at Wu Gou’s soul age.

Dongming’s ghost eyes could see past and present lives, as well as the cycles of karma. He had already seen that Wu Gou’s past life was that of an eminent monk who had practiced Buddhism for many years.

However, Wu Gou’s present life was obscured by a lush aura of life and death intermingling. He couldn't see it clearly or calculate it; he could only guess based on experience.

He had previously guessed that Wu Gou’s soul age might be around a hundred years. After all, reaching the second symbiosis contract with a Wenchang destiny made a century of accumulation seem reasonable.

But now, it seemed he had guessed wrong.

Dongming’s eyes flickered, and he nodded slightly.

If the soul age was truly this low, it would make sense why Xuandu wanted to abdicate the Ghost Mansion.

A thirty-year-old Wenchang Noble could be considered a dragon among men. With proper nurturing, he might achieve great things in the future.

Dongming felt a bit more approving of Wu Gou and withdrew his gaze.

In the trial grounds, Wu Gou was about to speak again to encourage Shen Liang when his brow suddenly furrowed.

The rules of the Xuandu Ghost Mansion had not yet stopped.

Shen Liang’s body began to shrink again.

Before he could even fully appreciate the scholarly air that had just returned to his face, it began to grow youthful and green.

His features shifted from the mature lines of a young man to the delicate look of a boy. His brow softened, and his skin became fair and clear, like a youth who hadn't yet reached his full growth.

His stature was also shrinking. The long robe that had fit him perfectly became baggy; the sleeves grew long enough to drag on the ground, and the pant legs were still too long even after being rolled up several times.

Shen Liang looked down at his shrinking body and then up at Wu Gou, a look of being caught between laughter and tears on his face.

“Master, this...”

Before he could finish, his voice changed, shifting from the clear tone of a young man to the high pitch of a boy.

Shen Liang’s height had shrunk to Wu Gou’s waist. The long robe was draped over him like a cloak, and the sleeves flapped about as if he were an opera performer.

He stood on the water’s surface, holding his waistband with both hands to prevent his pants from falling down. He looked as ridiculous as could be.

But the rules didn't seem to stop. Shen Liang could no longer stand steadily.

He fell back onto the water, looking up at Wu Gou with a face full of helplessness.

“Master, I think I’m getting smaller again.”

Wu Gou looked down at him, his lip twitching slightly, but he didn't speak.

Another half-measure of tea later, Shen Liang’s body had shrunk into an infant less than a year old. He was fair, tender, and chubby, lying on the water like a peeled egg.

His small arms and legs flailed in the air as he made incoherent gurgling sounds.

Shen Liang: “...”

His mind was a complete blank.

What was the meaning of this?

Why did this scene look so damn familiar?

Hadn't he already been redeemed? Wasn't he already getting better? Why was he still shrinking?

Then didn't all those words, those insights, and that sense of release just now go to waste?

Shen Liang wanted to cry but had no tears. He tried to roll over and crawl up, but his body wouldn't obey at all. He could only squirm in place.

His mouth opened, wanting to shout “Master, save me!” but the sound that came out was: “Ee... ee-ya!”

Shen Liang: “...”

He gave up.

He lay on the water, staring with two round eyes at the gray sky above, his face a picture of total resignation.

Wu Gou shifted slightly. The flesh lotus on his back trembled slowly under the radiance of the Buddhist light.

With a thought from Wu Gou, the umbilical cords extending from the lotus gathered toward the center. They began to intertwine and weave together, gradually forming the shape of a cradle.

The cradle wasn't large, just enough to hold a baby. Its frame was made of condensed flesh and blood, feeling warm to the touch.

Wu Gou bent down, carefully scooped Shen Liang up from the water, and placed him in the cradle. Then he turned to look into the void.

“Senior Xuandu, do we still need to fight?”

His voice carried clearly out of the light screen and into the ears of everyone in the hall.

The hall fell silent for a moment.

Then the Chained Ghost doubled over with laughter. “Hahahaha! Shen Liang, you unlucky bastard! This is what you get for rushing in first!”

The others looked at him as if he were an idiot. The Chained Ghost looked confused at first. “Why aren't you guys laughing? The thin one turned into a baby. It’s hilarious.”

Only after speaking did the Chained Ghost realize something. His laughter gradually faded until it stopped completely.

Right. The one undergoing the trial now was the little monk, not the Young Palace Master.

The Young Palace Master was a monster with a soul age of only one year, which was why Hong Xiu had been suppressed into an infant before.

But now that even the thin one was suppressed into this state, didn't that mean their future master was also a monster with a soul age of one year?

Was this possible?

Was this real?

Could it be that after a hundred and ten thousand years, some small error had occurred in the rules governing the Xuandu Ghost Mansion?

One monster was already shocking enough. Were there really two at once?

The Withered Ghost grabbed the arm of the fat ghost, Taotie, and asked, “Fatty, you fought the Master in the trial grounds just now. Did you feel it? How old is he?”

Taotie scratched his round belly, looking dazed. “I... I don't know. I was just suppressed to the same cultivation level as him. I didn't think about anything else...”

“You useless waste!” the Chained Ghost cursed. “You didn't notice such a vital piece of information?”

Taotie said aggrievedly, “ I was almost transcended at the time. How could I have the mind to notice that...”

Xuandu was also slightly startled. Having already seen how outrageous Chen Zhou was, seeing another didn't quite make him lose his composure.

A one-year-old second symbiosis contract.

A one-year-old Wenchang Noble.

A Buddhist heart capable of transcending a hundred-thousand-year-old malevolent ghost at the age of one.

And the Young Palace Master, Chen Zhou, had the same soul age of one year.

Seventh-stage fifth symbiosis contract, seven zhang of merit, eight chi of faith.

The little monk was his subordinate god. By comparison, it seemed... not that outrageous? Like hell it wasn't!

It was still completely absurd!

Just then, a low roar came from the corner.

“Something is wrong!”

Dongming strode over. His black official robes shimmered with a cold light under the lamps, and his face under the high crown was stern. The aura of natural authority in his brow forced the Five Evils to shrink further into the corner.

He walked straight to Xuandu, grabbed his collar, and shook him vigorously.

“Xuandu! Did you cheat for him again?!”

Xuandu’s head wobbled back and forth from the shaking. His black hair came loose, and the green vine hair-tie fell to the floor.

But he wasn't angry; he just looked at Dongming with a smile.

“Dongming, what are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about?” Dongming’s voice rose half a pitch.

“Do you think I’m blind? A soul age of one year? Who are you trying to fool?”

“Even if you’re opening the back door, can you be any more ridiculous than this? Even in the ancient era, nothing like this ever happened!”

“Did you tamper with the rules of the Xuandu Ghost Mansion? Did you artificially lower their soul ages?”

Dongming grew more agitated as he spoke, his hands shaking as he gripped Xuandu’s collar.

“Tell me the truth!”

Feeling dizzy from the shaking, Xuandu reached out and pressed on Dongming’s wrists, gently prying his hands away from his collar.

Then he straightened his rumpled robes, bent down to pick up the green vine hair-tie, and tied his hair back up.

His movements were steady and elegant, forming a sharp contrast to Dongming’s agitation.

After tying his hair, Xuandu looked up at Dongming and smiled slightly.

“Dongming, calm down.”

“Calm down? How do you expect me to calm down?” Dongming ground his teeth.

“The Five Direction Ghost Emperors each have their own duties and their own rules. Even if your Xuandu Ghost Mansion is desperate for people, you can't just mess around like this!”

“If word gets out, where will the Great Emperor's Palace hide its face?”

Dongming grew angrier as he spoke, his voice getting louder.

Zhaoye, seeing the atmosphere grow tense, hurried out from the corner to play peacemaker.

“Oh, Old Dong, you shouldn't say that.”

He walked to Dongming’s side and patted his shoulder with a smile.

“You can't have so little trust in our brother’s character, can you?”

“Xuandu is the most rule-abiding of the Five Direction Ghost Emperors. How could he possibly break his own rules?”

As Zhaoye spoke, he tilted his head toward Xuandu.

“Besides, the Underworld rules left by the Emperor aren't something we can just tamper with at will.”

Dongming snorted coldly but didn't respond.

However, his grip on Xuandu’s collar had loosened.

Zhaoye was right.

Xuandu was pedantic, rigid, and a stickler for rules. Often, he was even cold to the point of being heartless.

Such a person would not change the rules for personal gain.

He couldn't change them even if he wanted to, as they were the Underworld rules left by the Emperor.

If the rules were correct, then it meant Wu Gou’s soul age was genuine.

A Wenchang Noble at the second symbiosis contract with a soul age of less than a year.

Dongming found it difficult to accept for a moment.

If the Young Palace Master’s subordinate gods were at this level, then the Young Palace Master himself...

Dongming’s brow twisted into a tight knot.

What kind of maddening state had the world outside mutated into?

Genius monsters unheard of even in the ancient era—how were two of them suddenly appearing at once?

Was it because the divine path had withered and the rules of heaven and earth had changed, so the way geniuses were born had also changed?

Or was it...

Dongming’s gaze landed on Chen Zhou inside the light screen.

Or was it not because the world had changed, but because of this person?

Suwei, seeing that Dongming had stopped talking, walked over casually and threw an arm around Dongming’s shoulder.

“Old Dong, I heard the Young Palace Master’s soul age is very low. Just how low is it? It can't be lower than this monk’s, can it?”

Dongming leaned to the side from the weight but didn't push him away.

“You can't see through it?”

Suwei looked innocent. “I can't. I don't specialize in that path; I can't tell.”

Suwei Ghost Emperor, who governed the Suwei Ghost Mansion, specialized in slaughter and warfare, capturing malevolent souls, judging demon spirits, and fighting against the ghosts and monsters that plagued the world.

He could tell something was strange about Chen Zhou, but he couldn't say exactly what it was.

Dongming glanced at him, then looked at Chen Zhou in the distance, his expression complex.

“I can't see through it either.”

Suwei was stunned. “You can't see through it either? Can't your ghost eyes discern past and present lives, as well as the cycles of karma?”

“Ghost eyes are not omnipotent.” Dongming’s voice was low. “My ghost eyes cannot pierce through him.”

“What about the monk?”

“The monk is a bit easier,” Dongming said. “I can see his past life; I just can't see his present or future.”

He could see Wu Gou’s past life clearly. It was just that his present life was obscured by a lush aura of life and death, and his future life existed only in nothingness.