When Mu Yuefeng and his family of four were brought forward, bound and restrained, Si Lingqing was still propping her chin lazily, appearing utterly idle as she perused the records of their lives.
After death, everyone arrives in the Underworld unless they possess a celestial fate or, like Si Lingqing, are a true deity undergoing tribulation, in which case their souls return to their immortal station. But Mu Yuefeng’s family clearly lacked such fortune.
Dead was dead.
No matter how arrogant, domineering, or destructive they had been in life, in death they were still tightly bound, kneeling before Si Lingqing.
The figures trembling on the floor below were terrified, but Si Lingqing didn’t even lift an eyelid, her gaze fixed solely on the lengthy scroll of their deeds.
Every good and evil act committed in life was meticulously recorded, to be weighed carefully in the Underworld. The virtuous would be reincarnated, the wicked cast into the Avīci Hell. Those who had done both would enter the threefold cycle of rebirth—whether they returned as humans or beasts depended entirely on their karmic fate.
Unsurprisingly, the lengthy scroll detailed Mu Yuefeng’s lifetime of atrocities. The slaughter of Mu Yin’s family—all forty-one of them—was just the beginning. The rest chronicled his other misdeeds.
Bribing officials, oppressing the common folk.
Killing for treasure, framing the innocent.
Mu Yuefeng enjoyed inviting wandering cultivators to the Nine Stars Gate as guests. Most had no kin or close friends. After murdering them, he would seize their Magical artifacts and spiritual power, then dump their corpses in the wilderness.
Yet he always posed as a benevolent man, distributing porridge with his wife, Qin Shi, pretending to aid the poor—while behind the scenes, he colluded with corrupt officials and merchants to amass vast wealth.
And so on.
The phrase “too numerous to record” suited him perfectly.
After lazily reviewing Mu Yuefeng’s crimes, Si Lingqing turned to Qin Shi and their two daughters.
Unsurprisingly, the women’s conduct aligned closely with Mu Yuefeng’s.
Qin Shi had murdered her own sisters in her youth. After marriage, she disposed of several of Mu Yuefeng’s concubines. Ruthless by nature, she had personally beaten three maidservants to death. Her daughters followed her example—most of the unjustly slain servants in the household had met their ends at the hands of these two young women.
Pity that those servants had signed indentures. Even if their masters killed them, no one dared report it to the authorities.
But the Underworld cared nothing for contracts or lowly status. Even killing a pig with one’s own hands was still a sin of slaughter.
After spending an hour reviewing the lives of these four, Si Lingqing rubbed her temples and remained silent for a long while before asking, “Has their judgment been decided?”
A minor ghost, who had been standing by for some time, hurriedly replied, “Your Honor, we heard you wished to personally oversee the trial, so no verdict has been issued. Their fate rests in your hands.”
Si Lingqing gave a faint hum and glanced at the four souls kneeling on the ground.
The spirits of the dead retained their memories from life. Mu Yuefeng knelt timidly on the cold floor, shivering violently when Si Lingqing’s gaze fell upon him. He prostrated himself, wailing, “Spare me, Your Honor! I’ve been wronged!”
Without regard for his current circumstances, he immediately cried injustice.
Si Lingqing’s expression remained indifferent. She cast a sidelong glance at Mu Yuefeng and tossed the scroll directly at his feet.
“Take a good look,” she said. “Every deed committed in life is laid bare in death. Do not think that just because you weren’t caught, no one would know. See the blood staining your hands.”
Mu Yuefeng numbly held the lengthy scroll before him, staring at the detailed record of all the atrocities he had committed since childhood. His already pallid face instantly turned ashen gray.
“Let me think,” Si Lingqing mused for a moment before declaring, “You must go to the Avici Hell. You’ve taken over seventy lives. Allowing you into the cycle of reincarnation would only bring more harm. You shall be cast into the eighteenth level of hell to be tormented until your soul disperses.”
Upon hearing this, Mu Yuefeng dropped the scroll with a clatter, kowtowing frantically. “Spare me, my lord! Spare me! I don’t want to go to the eighteenth level of hell! I don’t want to go!”
The guards, accustomed to such scenes, stepped forward. Two of them raised their spears, piercing Mu Yuefeng’s spirit before hoisting him up with combined force.
The three women in the back row nearly fainted from terror, watching as their father and husband was impaled and carried away, his heart-wrenching screams still echoing in their ears.
Qin Shi clutched her two daughters, her face deathly pale. She had thought death would bring liberation, never imagining suffering would follow beyond the grave.
“My lord, spare me! This humble woman has never committed any heinous acts. Please don’t send me to the eighteenth level of hell!” Qin Shi trembled violently with fear. Though she knew she wasn’t entirely innocent, a lifetime of deceit had made lying second nature.
Si Lingqing studied the woman before her, recalling how she had repeatedly attempted to kill Mu Yin. Only through the protection of the deceased former sect leader’s family at Nine Stars Gate had Mu Yin survived unscathed.
Otherwise, Qin Shi’s hands would have been stained with yet another life.
“Indeed, you needn’t go to the eighteenth level,” Si Lingqing remarked coolly, a faint smile playing on her lips as she observed the kneeling woman.
Believing herself spared, Qin Shi kowtowed until her forehead bled, laughing through the painless ordeal. “Thank you, my lord! Thank you!”
“Don’t thank me.” Si Lingqing’s lips curled slightly, her smile chilling enough to make nearby spirits shiver. Just as Qin Shi sensed something amiss, Si Lingqing continued, “Had things been different, you would have been my mother-in-law.”
Qin Shi looked up in confusion.
Si Lingqing’s eyes curved with amusement. “Do you remember who Mu Yin married?”
Qin Shi seemed to grasp at something, yet nothing came to mind. She scrutinized Si Lingqing’s face, particularly the teardrop mole at the corner of her eye.
“You…”
“Indeed, Mu Yin married me.”
Leaning back in her chair, Si Lingqing’s smile vanished, replaced by an icy demeanor. Her voice turned frigid as she pronounced, “Though your crimes aren’t as numerous as Mu Yuefeng’s, your malice runs deep. You even sought to kill Mu Yin when she was but a child. Your punishment: one hundred years submerged in the River of Forgetfulness, torn and eroded by malevolent spirits.”
Darkness engulfed Qin Shi’s vision as she fainted. The guards, seeing no need to impale her, each grabbed an arm and hurled her into the Underworld’s River of Forgetfulness.
Hungry demons, long deprived of fresh souls, swarmed toward her. From afar, agonized screams and wails pierced the air.
The remaining Mu Xuanzhu and Mu Xuanji were also sentenced to fifty years of punishment, to be reincarnated through the Wheel of Rebirth only after serving their terms.
However, that would be decades later.
After handling these matters, Si Lingqing felt somewhat tired. The little ghost beside her was quick-witted and immediately brought her freshly brewed tea, diligently massaging her shoulders and legs.
“Ghost King, your judgments are truly fair and just. These people committed countless evils in their lives, and without eliminating their wickedness, they would only bring harm if reincarnated,” the little ghost said with a smile. “Why not take this opportunity to officially assume your position?”
Si Lingqing took a sip of tea and replied indifferently, “It’s only been a month since I returned from my tribulation, and you’re already urging me to take the throne. What are you plotting?”
The little ghost trembled in fear. “This humble one wouldn’t dare.”
“If you wouldn’t dare, then don’t bring it up again,” Si Lingqing said, setting down the teacup and standing up. “The Underworld is managed by the Ten Yama Kings. My presence or absence makes no difference.”
“Yes, yes,” the little ghost didn’t dare to press further about Si Lingqing taking up her duties. But after a moment’s thought, he looked up and said, “Ghost King, about that ‘Mu Yin’ you mentioned earlier.”
“What about her?”
“Mu Yin arrived in the Underworld a month ago, but there’s no record of her in the Book of Life and Death. Right now, she’s a squatter here. What should we do?”
Si Lingqing was taken aback and turned to look at the little ghost. “The Mu Yin you’re referring to—is she the Third Miss of the Mu family I just judged?”
The little ghost nodded. “The very same.”
Si Lingqing frowned slightly and raised her hand, brushing her lips with her knuckles.
The Book of Life and Death in the Underworld never made mistakes. If Mu Yin was here, then who was the one currently occupying her body?
After a moment’s thought, Si Lingqing said, “Take me to see her.”
The little ghost immediately responded, “This way, Ghost King.”
Mu Yin slept until the sun was high in the sky before waking up.
No one disturbed her as she rose. Yawning, she began combing her own hair. Before long, Hong Zhuang and the others knocked and entered to tidy the room.
Hong Zhuang fastened a belt embroidered with white patterns around Mu Yin’s waist, hung a white jade pendant from it, and finally draped a sheer, snow-white outer robe over her shoulders—completing her morning preparations.
“Young Mistress truly suits elegant attire,” Hong Zhuang remarked as she smoothed Mu Yin’s ink-black hair one last time, securing it with a pearly white pear blossom hairpin.
Mu Yin gazed at her reflection—once again clad entirely in white—and sighed at the thought of wearing mourning clothes for three years.
Well, white was white. At least it looked better than coarse hemp cloth. Dressed like this, she really did resemble the delicate young wife of an immortal sect.
Ethereal and graceful.
Hong Zhuang served Mu Yin breakfast, ladling porridge and arranging dishes while glancing around the room. Curiously, she asked, “Young Mistress, is Coal Boss not here?”
It took Mu Yin a moment to remember that ‘Coal Boss’ was the nickname she’d given to Si Lingqing’s transformed cat form. After swallowing a mouthful of porridge, she replied, “Probably went out to play.”
“The Five Skandha Sect is vast. That little newcomer cat of yours might get lost,” Hong Zhuang said to Mu Yin. “Later I’ll inform the disciples within the sect to take extra care of Coal Boss and ensure no privately raised spirit beasts harm it.”
Mu Yin thought for a moment, then said earnestly, “I don’t think ordinary spirit beasts could hurt her.”
Hong Zhuang looked puzzled and was about to say something when she heard commotion outside. Turning to look, she said in surprise, “The Madam has come to see you.”