Chapter 10: The Tenth Knife

                            

The words Xie Huan had secretly written were discovered when Feng Xun was packing away the books.

He looked down at the unfolded pages, at the elegant strokes of her handwriting. For the first time, someone had dared to comment on him. The fool Feng Xun smiled faintly, shook his head, closed the book, and tucked it into his robes.

On the eighth day of the next month, Xie Huan went to meet King Chujiang. King Qin Guang escorted her out of Fengdu, worry etched across his face.

“You don’t want to speak of this to the Lord,” he muttered. “That boy Li Wen is not like the Lord. His attacks are neither light nor heavy. If you die with him… how will I explain it?”

“I am already dead,” Xie Huan replied coldly. She knew well that ghosts could die again, becoming demons, their soul bodies dissipating until they vanished entirely.

“All punishments in the world are gentler than hell,” she said, her eyes steady, mocking. “King Qin Guang, you have been a god too long. Do you no longer know what the world is like?”

“For beings like us, the farther we are from the mortal world, the more mercy we grant it,” Qin Guang answered softly, forcing a smile.

Outside Fengdu City, Xie Huan mounted the dark beast of the underworld. She bent low, disappearing into the boundless fog.

Behind her, Feng Xun approached silently. He watched her vanish, his quiet demeanor startling Qin Guang.

“Lord…” Qin Guang called, uneasy.

“Who King Chujiang is, I already know,” Feng Xun said, voice deep. “Since she will not tell me, why should I force it? She wants this path. So be it.”

His voice softened. “I hope she gets better. Or perhaps I admire her for surviving this long. Like a sad miracle.”

He no longer spoke as a youth, but as a god of high rank.

The Ice Hell. Even the dark beast trembled, fleeing into the fog when Xie Huan dismounted.

Around her lay countless unconscious souls, muddled and vacant, yet still shaped like humans. Beneath her feet, white ice stretched endlessly. Revenants writhed beneath the frozen surface, tortured and roaring, unable to escape judgment.

Xie Huan thought: Is this where they all come when they die? Is this punishment too light? Far too light.

A tall shadow fell across her. Li Wen had arrived.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t the little lord who guards you come along?” His voice mocked, sneering at her reliance on Feng Xun’s protection.

If not for the Evil Mirror Platform’s decree that she was innocent, he would have crushed her soul, cast her into the blood sea of Wangchuan.

But Xie Huan’s calm voice cut through the snow: “King Chujiang, it is not enough.”

“Not cruel enough. Not desperate enough. Not shocking enough. Such a hell cannot punish them.”

Li Wen smiled darkly. “Little evil ghost, don’t think I didn’t see you struggle in that illusion.”

“That was before I cultivated. My soul body was too weak,” she answered. “Humans are too kind. They exhaust their imagination, yet only conceive of punishments like this.”

Hell’s tortures were designed to weaken sinful souls, to prepare them for reincarnation into beasts or trees. It was balance, fairness. But Xie Huan’s hatred demanded more.

Li Wen’s interest sharpened. “Then tell me, little evil ghost—what are your high opinions?”

Xie Huan lifted her head, met his cold eyes, and opened her spiritual world, inviting him in.

Li Wen entered, expecting little. But what he saw shocked even the ruthless King of Chujiang.

Her inner world was a pollution of despair—blood shadows, severed limbs, endless tragedies replayed in every glance. It was beyond human imagination. Even Li Wen recoiled, withdrawing quickly.

“You—” He seized her throat, suffocating her.

But Xie Huan did not flinch. She twisted, trying to bite his hand—the only attack she knew.

Li Wen released her, mocking. “Who could you sneak attack with such a low-grade method?”

She stood straight, silent, meeting his gaze.

At last, Li Wen’s tone softened. “Little evil ghost, even glimpsing your vision is too cruel for sinful souls. During life, there were butchers who slaughtered cities, traitors who betrayed nations. Their sins do not end here.”

Xie Huan’s eyes burned. “I don’t need your mercy. I suggest you set punishments worthy of hell. Otherwise, when I send my enemies here, your hell will not quench my hatred.”

Li Wen laughed. “Someone will care for the world. As for you—follow the Lord to the upper realm.”

But Xie Huan’s face was firm. She had never promised Feng Xun she would go. Her eyes brimmed with unwillingness, hatred, resentment.

Li Wen pinched her chin, forcing her lips upward. “Laugh.”

She had never known happiness. She could not smile.

“You think unhappiness means you cannot smile?” His voice was low, seductive. “Girl, you are too honest. Honesty is beautiful. Do you want it too?”

Xie Huan tugged at her lips, forcing a crooked smile.

Li Wen released her. “Feng Xun wants you as my disciple. You will follow me. If you wish to return to the world, deceive him yourself. Fengdu does not meddle in mortal affairs.”

Unlike Qin Guang, Li Wen did not restrain his desires. He was touched more easily by worldly matters.

Who is colder—the merciful Qin Guang, or the ruthless Chujiang? Xie Huan wondered.

Li Wen began to teach her ghost cultivation. She sat cross‑legged on the ice, absorbing ghostly energy. Around her, sinful souls screamed, protesting their crimes. Their ugliness interrupted her concentration, but she forced her mind to remain steady.

This was Li Wen’s purpose: to strengthen her spiritual consciousness while hardening her soul body.

He was intrigued by the horrors she had endured but restrained his curiosity. Everything had its number. Better not to pry too deeply into the secrets of Fengdu.

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