Chen Zhou stood in the hall, surrounded by several Ghost Emperors. It felt like being pressured by a group of elders to go on blind dates—it was quite terrifying.
He pondered for a moment, organizing his thoughts before slowly speaking.
“Seniors, the matter of finding successors is of great importance. I believe it shouldn’t be handled too rashly.”
He looked at Xuandu, then at Dongming and Suwei, his tone sincere.
“If I may be so bold, the inheritance of a Ghost Mansion is a weighty responsibility. Simply shoving anyone into the position would be irresponsible not only to you but also to the Great Emperor's Palace.”
Xuandu nodded in agreement.
Chen Zhou continued, “Therefore, I venture to ask for a bit more time.”
“Within one year.”
“Within a year, I will do my best to break through to the ninth-stage. Then, I will bring the most suitable candidates for your consideration.”
As he finished, Dongming’s eyelid twitched.
Break through to the ninth-stage within a year?
His own mention of one month earlier had been a joke.
He had only wanted to lighten the mood and salvage his crumbling image.
He wanted Chen Zhou to see him as a humorous elder who could keep up with a young person’s thinking, not a stubborn old fossil.
But this kid actually said one year?
Dongming’s heart was filled with mixed emotions.
He had lived for an entire eon, yet he had never heard of anyone claiming they could jump from the seventh-stage to the ninth-stage in a single year.
That wasn't just confidence; it was... preposterous.
But as Dongming thought about it carefully, he realized it might not be that preposterous after all.
After all, this kid’s soul age was only one.
At one year old, he was already at the seventh-stage with five symbiosis contracts.
In a year, he’d be two, and at the ninth-stage...
Dongming did the math in his head and fell silent.
It actually seemed possible.
At that thought, Dongming took a deep breath, trying to keep his expression from looking too shocked, though the corner of his mouth still twitched uncontrollably.
What a kid.
A monster indeed.
Zhaoye watched from the side with a smile, inwardly nodding.
When Dongming said one month earlier, Zhaoye had felt he was being difficult.
But when Chen Zhou said one year himself, it was different.
It showed the boy knew what he was doing, had a plan for the future, and had set his own goals.
Suwei, being straightforward, didn't have any hidden thoughts. When he heard Chen Zhou could reach the ninth-stage in a year, his eyes lit up immediately.
“One year? For real?”
Chen Zhou nodded. “I will do my best.”
“Good!” Suwei slapped his thigh. “One year it is! I’ll wait for you!”
Chen Zhou turned to Zhaoye.
“Senior Zhaoye, if I remember correctly, the ideal candidate for the Zhaoye Ghost Emperor Mansion is a Taiji Noble?”
Zhaoye nodded with a smile.
“Correct. A Taiji Noble is a top-tier rank, noble and extraordinary, capable of perceiving Yin and Yang and discerning heavenly secrets.”
As he spoke, he reached out and naturally patted Chen Zhou on the head.
“Kid, just do your best,” Zhaoye said gently.
“A genius like a Taiji Noble is truly hard to find. Even in the ancient era when the divine path flourished, only a few would appear in an entire eon, let alone in this era of decline.”
“However, you seem to have an Auspicious Noble assisting you, so your fortune is indeed extraordinary.”
“Even if you find a Taiji Noble through your Auspicious Noble, their character, talent, and temperament cannot be guaranteed.”
“If their talent is insufficient, they cannot enter the Ghost Mansion; if their character is poor, they will only be a disaster for the Ghost Mansion.”
“So, do not push yourself too hard.”
Zhaoye withdrew his hand and stood with his arms behind his back, looking up at the light screen on the ceiling with a distant gaze.
“I am in no hurry.”
“I’ve already waited a hundred thousand years; I can wait a little longer.”
He turned back to Chen Zhou, his eyes filled with the kindness unique to an elder.
“After all, once you inherit the Great Emperor's Palace, these Five Direction Ghost Mansions will be your support.”
“If you delay your own cultivation because you're in a rush to find successors, that would be penny-wise and pound-foolish.”
“I hope you proceed steadily. Only with a solid foundation can you go far.”
“There is no need to rush for success, nor do you need to worry specifically about us old fogies.”
“Let everything happen naturally.”
“When the fate is right, the person who should come will naturally appear.”
After Zhaoye finished, he patted Chen Zhou’s shoulder again and stepped back, standing aside with a smile, looking completely detached from worldly concerns.
Chen Zhou cupped his hands toward Zhaoye.
“Thank you for your understanding, Senior.”
Zhaoye waved his hand and smiled without speaking.
Chen Zhou turned to Dongming.
“Senior Dongming, if I recall correctly, the most suitable successor for the Dongming Ghost Mansion is a National Seal Noble, right?”
Dongming opened his mouth to say yes, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zhaoye’s smiling, kind expression and swallowed his words.
He glared fiercely at Zhaoye.
This old fox.
Didn't those words just now make Dongming look bad by comparison?
It made Zhaoye look so thoughtful, understanding, and kind.
And what about him?
Standing here with a cold face, asking for 'one month' as soon as he spoke—he looked like a stern villain who forced his juniors to work hard and punished them if they didn't improve.
The more Dongming thought about it, the angrier he got.
Wait, had he really never noticed how much of a 'green tea' Zhaoye was before?
They usually saw each other with those same smiling faces, but now it was clear the old man knew exactly what to say and when to say it, playing the situation perfectly.
He, Dongming, was also a very gentle senior!
He also cared about his juniors!
He was just bad with words!
Dongming took a deep breath, trying to soften his expression.
He tugged at the corners of his mouth, attempting to force a smile.
But he hadn't smiled in so long that his facial muscles refused to cooperate.
His mouth began to tremble halfway through, eventually twisting into a bizarre angle. Combined with his deep Ghost Eye, it looked as if he were plotting something sinister.
Suwei, seeing Dongming’s expression, instinctively took a step back.
“Old Dong, is your face cramping?”
Dongming: “...Shut up.”
He gave up.
He’d leave the smiling to that old green tea, Zhaoye.
Dongming cleared his throat, trying to make his tone sound as gentle as possible.
“A National Seal Noble is indeed the most suitable, but...”
He paused and glanced at Chen Zhou.
“They are too hard to find.”
“They were rare even in the ancient era, let alone now.”
“So you don't need to specifically look for one; just let things take their course.”
“I’ve thought about it, and a General Star is also fine.”
“That subordinate god of yours with sword talent—bring him to me later. If he’s suitable, it’ll be him.”
After saying this, Dongming added another sentence.
“You have to cultivate and search for people at the same time; it’s already hard enough. I don't want to add to your troubles.”
“Just do your best.”
After speaking, Dongming crossed his arms, returning to his cool and aloof demeanor.
But his gaze was much softer than before—at least, that’s how it seemed to Chen Zhou.
Listening from the side, Suwei couldn't help but roll his eyes.
Good grief.
These two were outdoing each other with their words.
One said 'naturally,' the other said 'best effort.'
It made him, Suwei, look so inconsiderate.
Suwei decided that he had to be careful with his words next; he couldn't seem too impatient.
Even though he was actually very impatient.
Chen Zhou smiled slightly. In truth, the problems the two Ghost Emperors worried about weren't problems at all.
The Auspicious Noble was currently residing in the Gathering Fortune Pavilion. As long as Chen Zhou went to other outer provinces, anyone with a special destiny would be marked by an auspicious cloud.
Therefore, finding people with special destinies would be much easier for him.
As for the possibility of a person with a special destiny having a poor character—well, wasn't the Heavenly Chef there?
If their character was bad, he’d just have Yu He stew them, strip away the destiny, and create a new one.
And if their talent was insufficient, it was even simpler.
The Myriad Herbs Life-Death Realm could facilitate reincarnation at any time. If talent was lacking, they could just reincarnate and try again.
Chen Zhou turned to Suwei.
“Senior Suwei, what kind of successor do you need?”
Hearing this, Suwei immediately threw all his previous mental preparation out the window. He rubbed his hands together and gave a cheeky grin.
“You asked me yourself; I didn't bring it up first! Then I won’t stand on ceremony. I’m making a wish now!”
Chen Zhou nodded. “Please speak, Senior.”
Suwei’s eyes lit up as he began to count on his fingers.
“First, an Eight Seats Noble.”
“Those with the Eight Seats Noble destiny are natural-born generals, capable of commanding ten thousand troops with decisive slaughter, moving through battlefields as if they were empty ground.”
“This destiny fits my Suwei Ghost Mansion perfectly.”
“Ideally, they should also have a natural battle body, like a Hundred-Refined Body or Vajra Indestructibility—someone who can both deal and take a hit.”
“Their cultivation can’t be too low either. At least an eighth-stage Siming, or preferably a ninth-stage Truth-Usurping. Otherwise, they won't be able to handle the responsibilities of the Ghost Mansion.”
“As for personality, it’s best if they are steady but not too dull. They need to be able to kill when it’s time to kill and endure when it’s time to endure.”
“Also...”
Suwei talked more and more, becoming quite loquacious.
“Senior...” Chen Zhou interrupted him.
Suwei stopped, looking at him expectantly.
Chen Zhou said, “I will do my best to find what you’ve described.”
Suwei waved his hand and laughed, finding Chen Zhou more and more to his liking.
It had been a long time since he’d met a junior who got along with him so well and suited his taste.
Below, Chen Zhou and the Ghost Emperors were chatting enthusiastically, and no one was paying any more attention to the trial in the light screen above.
Wu Gou stood atop the lotus platform of human hands. Seeing that the Xuandu Ghost Emperor hadn't replied to him for a long time, he couldn't help but sigh.
He glanced at Shen Liang in the cradle, pressed his palms together, and began to chant the Rebirth Mantra.
“Namo amitābhāya, tathāgatāya...”
Golden Sanskrit characters flew from his lips, landing on Shen Liang one by one.
Many tiny tentacles suddenly emerged from the flesh cradle, each as thin as a hair and tipped with a drop of crystalline blood.
The tentacles gently pierced Shen Liang’s body.
Shen Liang’s body trembled slightly, but he didn't struggle or even feel pain.
He simply looked up at Wu Gou’s mangled face, his heart extraordinarily calm.
He could feel something being gradually drained from his body.
Shen Liang closed his eyes, and images began to surface in his mind.
Before the flood, before Squire Zhou’s smiling face, before the pain of his broken legs.
They were earlier images.
Images of him keeping books in the rice shop, stroke by stroke, clear and precise.
Images of him smiling at his neighbors; everyone called him Accountant Shen and praised his competence.
The letter his mother sent through someone when he sent his wages home, saying, “Son, I’m doing well, don't you worry.”
The image of him washing clothes by the river, looking at his own reflection and thinking his life was quite good.
The corners of Shen Liang’s mouth curled up slightly.
“At man's beginning, his nature is good.”
“Nature is similar, but habits diverge.”
“If not taught, nature will shift.”
“The way of teaching prizes focus.”
He suddenly remembered the 《Three Character Classic》 his teacher had taught him as a child.
He had been young then and didn't understand the meaning of those words, simply repeating them after the teacher.
Now, he seemed to understand a little.
At man's beginning, his nature is good.
He was born good, just as he was now—babbling and learning to walk.
The people who killed him—they were also born good.
They just changed later.
Changed by natural disasters, changed by fear, changed by this rotten world.
He had changed too.
He had become a water ghost, a malevolent ghost, a fierce ghost who would drag people into the water to drown.
But that original Shen Liang, the young Shen Liang, the Shen Liang unpolluted by the world—he had always been there.
He was just buried at the very bottom, suppressed by resentment and obsession, unable to come out.
Now that the things weighing him down were being drained away bit by bit, he could finally breathe again.
Tears fell from the corners of Shen Liang’s eyes, rolling down his chubby cheeks and dripping into the cradle.
He opened his eyes wide, looking at Wu Gou.
Wu Gou was still chanting. No expression could be seen on his mangled face, but his eyes were bright and clear, like two pools of spring water.
In a daze, Shen Liang felt that this was what it meant to be transcended.
He truly shouldn't dwell on the events of his past life anymore.
Karma is never false; good and evil have their rewards. Every action has its consequence.
Perhaps Squire Zhou had also died in the flood shortly after. Perhaps those he had saved would remember his small kindness after the flood passed and light a stick of incense for him.
And he himself had finally, after a hundred thousand years, waited for a true Buddha willing to transcend him, welcoming a new life.
Amidst the Buddhist chants, Shen Liang’s heart gradually calmed.
The voices that had haunted him for a hundred thousand years—the sound of water, the sound of bones breaking, the sound of laughter on the shore—could no longer be heard.
He felt very light.
As if he had laid down a burden he had carried for a hundred thousand years.
Shen Liang’s breathing grew weaker and lighter.
His body gradually shriveled in the cradle, like a flower drained of its moisture.
His skin became dry and wrinkled, finally crumbling into dust.
The dust drifted with the flood, bobbing on the surface of the turbid water.
The cradle was empty. The tentacles retracted, and the cradle turned back into an umbilical cord, shrinking back into Wu Gou’s back.
The flesh lotus on his back slowly closed, its petals folding one by one before shrinking into the sides of his spine and disappearing.
The flood began to recede.
The turbid water level dropped lower and lower—from Wu Gou’s chest to his waist, from his waist to his knees, from his knees to his ankles.
Finally, it disappeared completely.
The trial grounds were empty, exactly as before, except for the tall, thin, bamboo-like water ghost.
Wu Gou stood in the middle of the desert, his body mangled. He pressed his palms together and whispered a Buddhist invocation.
“Amitābha.”
Outside the light screen, Shen Liang’s body slowly condensed in the hall.
He stepped out of the void, his thin face expressionless, but his gaze was peaceful.
Taotie was still wiping away tears nearby, his plump body curled in a corner, snot and tears covering his face—he looked fierce, pitiful, and hilarious all at once.
The other five Evils looked at Shen Liang in unison, their eyes filled with envy and jealousy.
Shen Liang had been transcended.
Taotie had also been transcended.
The two of them were free.
But the five of them were still waiting.
Rate on N.U.
