The Blue Lotus : Hellscroll

In this deep corner of Hell, a strange yet quaint solitude has taken its place. It gently hides the torment which had once plagued this land. The reason behind that torment lived on that high mountain, close to the murky clouds. Many shed their blood and soul to drag that man down from those clouds. While those warriors took the place of a mere line in the books of history, that man continued to tower over the crowd. 

This fear inducing estate is called The Last Fortress. The symbolism being that this would be the last and only authority ruling over hell.

Guarded by all sorts of terrors dragged up from the Kaigan Pit, this warm establishment currently housed only three people and a few million ghosts. 

Its grandeur being too grand to put into words, its opulence has reached above the petty shine of gold and silver. Its ethereal beauty lied in its spirit. The estate breathed the ancient energy of Hell in every stone and crack. It was pure in the way only something utterly divorced from morality could be. So ancient, even the word evil hadn't contaminated it.

This energy seeped from Hell's crust like natural gas does in the mortal realm—except it had its own conscience. It lit the palace with spirit-flowers that pulsed like heartbeats and bloomed with a dim, sentient glow. Pods resembling winged insects flitted lazily in the air, humming softly.

Zhang Xiyu stands at the heart of the ethereal garden, surrounded by glowing spirit-flowers. As he waits for Yutao, he finds himself drifting back—remembering the first time he encountered one of the blue lotus sisters.

Back then, he'd been crawling through darkness so thick it seemed to press in on his bones, timeless and directionless. And then—light. Gentle, pulsing, deceptive light. The flowers had filled the black with colour, and for a moment, he'd dared to believe he was saved.

But that security was a trap.

He sighs; eyes fixed on a nearby bud swaying with anticipation. The blue lotus would soon bloom again. And when it does, those scattered sisters—each a splinter of this long-abandoned power—would come together once more. They would become whole.

"Zhang Xiyu!"

Yutao bursts into the garden, clutching the final fragment in his trembling hand. Whatever strange gleam had haunted his eyes during the journey flickered—and vanished—as Zhang Xiyu gently pried the cursed object from his grasp.

"Decades on this job," Zhang Xiyu murmurs, weighing the fragment "You've finally finished it today."

He offers Yutao a rare, genuine smile—one so out of place it seemed to briefly bend the mood of the garden.

Caught off guard, Yutao blinks, visibly rattled. "Right," he mutters while nodding. 

The smile faded, folding back into solemnity. Zhang Xiyu lowers his gaze to the fragment, still cold within his fingers.

"The time has come," he says quietly. "With Lord Enma's return officially announced, I must take this final offering to her temple."

He pauses, his voice steady, but the air seemed to still around him.

"I assume she will then reclaim full dominion over the realm. The will of Hell will rightfully return to her hands."

Then, softer—almost inaudible—he adds, as though even the garden might overhear and disapprove:

"The Blue Lotus can finally change Hell's king."

The new King of Hell. Yutao wisely keeps his honest thoughts to himself. And so does Zhang Xiyu as he moves to another topic. Zhang Xiyu had assumed that Yutao must have saved him from that illusion. He asks "How did you break the illusion?"

Yutao furrows his brow. "I didn't even know you were trapped. I thought you got yourself out."

Now that is a big revelation. Zhang Xiyu froze, thoughts clashing and colliding like blades in a smoke-filled arena. It was true—he hadn't needed help. He'd acted quickly, plucking a strand of Liu Xue's hair when the moment came, planting it inside the illusion as a decoy. It was enough to make Heaven's watchful gaze fall onto the right man.

But that arrow did not break him free. Not really. Someone—or something—had shattered the array before him.

In a realm where everyone wanted him dead, who saved him?

He exhales, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No… it wasn't me."

Yutao's breathing halts. Yet another problem surfaces. He masks the flicker of panic in his voice "I will... ask Renhu to figure this out. He needs a break from cleaning the mortal world anyway." 

"Alright then, I will be leaving for the temple." Zhang Xiyu says, turning to leave the garden. Then he pauses. Looks back.

"I might be gone for a few days."

"The first prince. Can you handle him?"

Yutao remains silent.

"Maybe you should wait for me to return- "

"That's not necessary." Yutao's stance looked certain and confident. Leaving no room for Zhang Xiyu to interject.

Zhang Xiyu lingers. "I'll be back soon," he says quietly.

He studies Yutao for a beat longer. Maybe he should say something more. A warning. A goodbye. A joke, maybe — but the words stay locked behind his teeth.

He gazes silently into Yutao's assertive eyes.

Defeated, he turns around. Or maybe not.

In another location which has been hiding in the deepest and trickiest parts of hell's forests for as long as hell existed, there is a stone temple. This seemingly simple and quaint temple shows its temper within its cracked walls. Multiple cracks covered the temple and between these cracks grew sapphires of the excellent grade, making the plain terrain glow faintly blue. 

A boot stepped right over these precious gems and stomped its way inside. Zhang Xiyu ignores the decoy altar that is featured in the centre and walks behind it. Behind the sculpture of the "goddess" Zhang Xiyu knocks six times.

A few seconds later the ground beneath him cracks open to reveal the long winding steps underneath it. Zhang Xiyu barely goes down ten steps before he reaches out towards the cavern's wall. His hand sank in first—then his body—vanishing without a trace.

Yet, the ground above is still cracked open. The winding steps still inviting new visitors. A few heads peek in from behind the altar. 

"Hey! He's gone already. Hurry up, follow him."

The three soldiers stand at the steps watching the floor close with a resounding slam.

Silently, they walk down the stairs into the darkness. Previous torches burnout while new torches light up. With their steps muted, only the sound of these flickering flames echo through the cavern. As time passes, their huffing breaths also join the medley. Soon their silent steps turn into urgent stomps, curses fly amongst companions and one of them falls from exhaustion. 

"You guys. Go ahead. I...will catch up." He panted

And so, the remaining two cling to the walls and press on. One suggested turning back, but the sealed ceiling made it clear—there was no return.

Then they hear someone crying, his muttering incomprehensible.

Without hesitation, they rush towards the sound. "Finally. We found that damned bastard."

They pushed forward, knees scraping the narrow walls. Out of breath, they spot a silhouette ahead.

The unbearable pain in their legs from endless walking pales in front of their goal. They can catch him and leave. 

The soldier reaches his hand out. He can catch him and. . . .

"Malic?"

The crying man turns around, flames of torch reflecting on his tear-stained face.

"General Brinestalk?"

Chills ran down the soldier's back. Before he could come to the impending conclusion, Malic screams and rushes up the stairs. Brinestalk turns to stop him only to find his other subordinate's cold body rolling down to his feet, staining each step with his blood. 

"Gutdra. . . . . . he killed himself..."

Between these narrow walls with one subordinate's blood staining his shoes, General Brinestalk stood there with his tired and broken body with only one answer for his remaining companion.

"We have been walking in circles this entire time Malic." 

A gruesome wail escaped Malic. "No. No. Absolutely not. No—"

"There was never a way out of here."

Ignorant of what became of his pursuers, Zhang Xiyu was escorted by a palace guard to the foot of a tall wooden stage—its structure reminiscent of a judge's bench, but twice the length.

He tilts his chin up. The bright sunlight lands softly on his pale face, his messy hair falls, not letting the light reach his eyes.

"Not really fond of this setting." he mutters, cracking his neck with a hand behind it.

A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he looks up at the figure seated atop the platform. "I usually prefer looking down on people."

"This place has stood here for a millennium."

Multiple feminine voices resound through the circular hall. 

"It will not change for you. Get used to it."

He unattentively shakes his head while he thinks about this pure white light falling on him. Every rare time when he visits this place, this sunlight is the only thing he looks forward to. This small ray of light runs his imagination. Pale blue vastness covering his entire world while he stands in the mild breeze.

He wants to grab onto it and yet he adjusts his sleeves to further cover his body. This is no sunlight. Just a cruel illusion. 

A blue fragment floats out his pocket, moves up the platform and lands there. 

"I certainly hope to be here long enough to get used to it." A white lie escapes.

"Of course you will." the chorus answered. "You are the chosen one. The new King of Hell."

Zhang Xiyu bows with mock grace.

"We sisters have mostly recovered our strength, thanks to you. Your efforts over these past centuries, we will surely reward you for it."

From every crevice of the hall, tiny shards of blue crystal emerged, suspended in air. They gathered above the stage, swirling into a luminous vortex. These formless fragments were the product of Zhang Xiyu's long toil—a century's worth of hardship. Seeing them all at once made his chest tighten. Each tiny shard represented a difficult story for him, not one acquisition being easy. And now it was time for them to condense.

On the platform, the fragments locked into place like a puzzle—forming a supernatural bloom, a lotus made of otherworldly light. Zhang Xiyu turns stiff and forcefully removes his gaze from this phenomenon. He did not want to bleed from his eyes. 

The luminous lotus implodes inward, shuddering in defiance against its own collapse.

Now palm-sized, the once-massive lotus drifted like a painter's brush, sweeping the air and sketching a body from nothingness. It began with feet, then legs, rising slowly, sculpting a face from the light.

Zhang Xiyu looked back up; this… shouldn't have happened. 

Long blue hair resembling the one in his worst memory, materialized from thin air. Zhang Xiyu tightly clenched his fists.

How could this be possible without the fragments belonging to Enma's sons?

Turquoise silk, spun from blue light, swirled and wrapped the emerging figure, and the woman became. 

Her eyes which looked human from the outside were still, as if time had stopped for her. No matter how much the features resemble a woman she would still look completely unnatural. 

Zhang Xiyu realised that this one body now holds the essence of an entire realm. Centuries of hunting through the universe has now brought this power back to life. This power that once handed the reins to Lord Enma and went into slumber. 

Now the roles have reversed. Lord Enma was the one "asleep" somewhere and the power could no longer rest. It wants to pass on. The princes of hell want it to pass on. The Blue Lotus swept her gaze away from the trembling Zhang Xiyu out of unusual kindness. 

"Now that we have returned in flesh, we can finally take the matters of hell in our hands." 

"Enma, that piece of work."

An ominous gong rang once, as if protesting at her words. But the Blue Lotus stood tall. 

The atmosphere had suddenly turned tense between them, each keeping to their own thoughts. They stood, silent and calculating. Zhang Xiyu could have waited, let the moment settle.

But he didn't have time.

So, he spoke. "What do you plan to do with him? With Lord Enma?"

The Blue Lotus stood unmoved, as if she hadn't heard.

"You want to make me the king. You captured me, dragged me to the deepest pits of hell and made me a little too familiar with this realm. You made me."

He pauses.

"What next?"

"We awaken him."

"What difference does that make?" Zhang Xiyu asked. "Lord Enma chose solitary cultivation over his duty. If he's returning now, it's only because he fears you."

"I suspect that Ren Jiang influenced his father to take this vacation."  

The entity's expression turns a bit expectant. "Then do you wish to kill the prince?"

"Not that simple," Zhang Xiyu said, rubbing his temple. "He created a problem, a big hole, and then became the only plug that keeps it from crumbling. If I kill him without preparations, this hell might cease to exist for the next millennia."

"The souls bound to our domain will spill into other realms and the heaven will purge them forever."

"Oh, and I haven't even talked about the other hells that might run us over before that."

"So, before you kill him you need to stabilize the government, is that right?" Zhang Xiyu detected a hint of annoyance in her tone.

"Yes. Now that I've created Renhu, things have started to improve."

"I have one more question."

"Speak."

"After we take over the government, what do we do with Lord Enma?"

Tensions arise again between them. The miniscule kindness that the woman exhibited receded sharply as her eyes landed on him.

But Zhang Xiyu had grown used to her spiritual pressure. He found her reaction... interesting. The Blue Lotus, her intentions did not feel as direct as her orders. With multiple doubts weighing his mind, he fearlessly probes.

"Do we kill him?"

The Blue Lotus stood still, her aura as calm as a frozen lake. Her calm disposition lulling him into false serenity.

"Remember the day we first met?"

"I showed you the magnificent sight of evil chained under the belly of this realm."

Zhang Xiyu had forgotten many things over his long exile in Hell. But that... that memory had sunk into his marrow. Even if he crossed the Sanzu River again, it would follow him.

"The King of Underworld, reigns supreme over it." she says, her voice calm.

"You wish to go for the king's head? Then you better be ready to wear his crown."

Zhang Xiyu stands expressionless in front of her sly despondence.

"Get me the remaining three fragments. Without them I am unable to leave this temple. Only then will we talk."

She didn't have to speak more. All was said between the lines. And yet she managed to evade the question.

Zhang Xiyu sighs; This is going nowhere.

He stares up at the magnificent creature towering above him, her expression unreadable. Whatever her real intentions were, he knew he wouldn't pry them out—not with words. Make him a king? It still sounded like a joke. It had sounded like a joke the first time she said it, and nothing had changed.

Whatever end she pursued, it wouldn't be possible without the death of Enma's children. She doesn't object to it either.

Zhang Xiyu folded his arms, voice calm but edged with disdain. "While I was out stabilizing the mortal realm—scavenging lost ghouls, cleaning up chaos—Ren Jiang and Liu Xue tightened their grip on this realm of justice."

"The royal court is split down the middle. Each half drowning in hopeless loyalty to one prince or the other. Day and night, they plot to dethrone Lord Enma."

"The infighting has corroded the government."

Her eyes narrow. "Such machinations. We elders have never bothered with them. Power was earned through strength. Until you humans came up with schemes." She scoffs, the sound low and cruel.

"Their sins have polluted this realm. Corrupted my people." Her voice dropped to a hiss.

"I suggest you kill them all, Zhang Xiyu. I know you can."

They stared each other down. Two monsters disguised as reasonable beings.

Then Zhang Xiyu reaches into his robes, draws out a mineral stone, and let dark energy pulse into his palm. With a sharp crack, he crushes it.

Malicious red fire erupted, swallowing him whole.

And he was gone.

"Please...don't kill me."

The disfigured, slimy creature inched away from Renhu's blood-stained claws, stumbling over trash cans until it reached a dead end. Behind them, bright purple lights pulsed to the rhythm of laughter—drunken humans, blissfully unaware of the horror unfolding just feet away.

Renhu dropped a mask between the contrasting scenes—then turned back to inspect the creature.

It wasn't just one person. This abomination was a fusion: multiple humans, their broken limbs tangled together, suspended in a translucent, gelatinous sack. Making it capable of pleading for its life.

To manifest in such a grotesque form, the thing must have possessed and killed at least ten mortals.

While the Pànguān brought peace to the souls it had claimed, Renhu handled the cleanup—the trash disposal, if you will.

With a flick of his claw, a portal cracked open behind him. Without ceremony, he dragged the writhing fusion of corpses into the maw of Hell.

"Lunch!" he called, tossing the creature into the middle of a waiting horde.

The monsters bared their teeth, eyes glinting with hunger. They descended as one, feasting ravenously, devouring every last trace of the thing's existence.

And that concludes the routine cleanup.

Yutao had been patiently waiting for him, entertaining himself by observing the dimwit monsters.

"Sir, what brings you here?" Renhu takes a seat across him. Yutao's disdainful eyes don't move from the ravenous monsters.

He lazily speaks "Zhang Xiyu got trapped inside an array during that game."

Renhu's eyes widen "So that's why he took that long to do that menial job."

Yutao finally glanced at him, his disdain shifting. "Someone broke the array. It wasn't me."

Renhu stared, disbelieving.

"I want you to look into it," he said, voice flat. "Spread your little spies deeper into the Ten Courts. Figure out the whereabouts of Enma."

He added, "And put extra focus on everyone who was at that party."

Renhu let out a weary sigh, visibly weighed down by the increasing demands.

Yutao's irritation flared. "Besides the entire army at your disposal, Zhang Xiyu gave you the strength of millions of ghosts."

"A monster like you has no right to act pitiful in front of me."

Renhu huffs. "You wouldn't treat me like this if I were a woman!" 

Yutao blinked slowly, then gave a lazy shrug. "What's stopping you from shifting your shape?" He grinned, cold and sharp. "I'll show you exactly how I treat you then."

Renhu: "..."

The monsters finished gnawing on scraps and wandered off in search of new amusement.

Renhu broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

Yutao looked at him, eyes heavy with boredom.

"I'm curious—how did you and the Lord meet?"

With nothing better to do, Yutao sat up, indulging the question. "I had heard of him when I was alive, he was a sharp scholar and I was a spy."

He continues, his voice quiet but firm. "In that realm we stood on opposite sides. Our jobs killed us; we moved on from that life."

"We met, face-to-face, at the edge of Kaigan Pit."

Loud cheers shook the arena. Demons from distant regions had gathered here, each eager to submit their fighting ghosts. The ticket counter became a hotspot for brawls, while a nearby booth ran unofficial betting like a well-oiled machine.

This was a fight to the death between desperate ghosts. The prize? Freedom from bullying and a modest home anywhere in the realm. Their owners? Riches beyond any mortal king's treasury.

Such was peak entertainment in that century of Hell.

With Lord Enma away on "business" for what felt like an eternity, there was no shortage of ghosts. If anything, the competition helped Hell manage its overpopulation problem. The demon princes thought it a noble idea—and thus, the sponsors arrived in droves.

Loud gongs echoed across the arena, matching the frenzied shouts of demons. Their lords, their idols—the three princes—had arrived.

They made their way to the floating judge's box hovering over the stage, offering the best view in the house. Officially called the "Judge Chambers," the box was meant for overseeing fairness and honour in the competition.

No one believed that, of course.

Below, the commentator stood at his podium, eyes gleaming with anticipation as he twirled his long beard. It was time to announce the princes' representatives.

Yutao was the first to arrive at the player's section. It featured three seats for representatives; the other ghosts were crammed into a holding pen. A moment later, the seat beside Yutao was filled by a hulking man with biceps larger than Yutao's head. He looked laser-focused.

Yutao, on the other hand, looked everywhere but forward—as though desperately searching for an escape.

He didn't notice Zhang Xiyu watching him with quiet interest, making a mental note to follow him later.

The burly man in the middle turns to Zhang Xiyu. "Are you the guy who stabbed the princess?"

"Stabbed? The princess-consort?"

"Aika was stabbed?"

Whispers spread like wildfire. A ghost stabbed one of the strongest demons in hell.

Zhang Xiyu briefly considered stabbing the guy next to him—and then himself.

"Of course not. Are you high?"

"He's saying no."

"He's lying."

"Why would he lie? If it were me, I would brag about it till the cold hells!"

"Exactly! Ren Jiang left him alive after that? Must be a rumour."

"Silence!" the commentator screamed.

A hush fell. "All the princes have arrived! Give it up for our judges and sponsors tonight!"

The arena erupted again. No one cared about some strange rumour anymore but Zhang Xiyu knew he had to kill this whistleblower before he left.

"Demons and our dear royalty! In the name of King Enma! Round one of the Kaigan Pit!"

"Commences!"

A glass box descended from the roiling, cloud-choked sky.

The announcer hushed the crowd.

"Here's how it goes. Our lovely ghosts will play a simple game of tag. Each has a blue flower-shaped mark on their neck. If another player taps that mark…"

"You drop into the Pit!"

Yutao instinctively covered his neck. The blue glow beneath his hand confirmed it.

The glass box stopped twenty feet above the ground. From his seat, Yutao noticed something else inside the enclosure.

"Last to remain standing would be escorted with respect with a special gift." A spotlight pointed at the box.

"The special prize! For this year is!"

"A teleportation stone! You can use it to teleport anywhere! And I mean…." The announcer giggled.

"Anywhere! Does that also include leaving the pit anytime you want? Well, that's for the winner to find out!"

A gong resounded in the arena and the gates were opened. Through this gate hundreds of ghosts piled out into the previously empty ring. The huge space now barely had any space for standing let alone hiding. The representative players were still not allowed to enter the ground. To please the princes, they will only enter when most of the population has been purged. 

The gong was banged again. "Begin!"

In just a few seconds, several ghosts vanished into thin air. The new ghosts cowered, afraid to move even a finger while the older residents of hell rushed to kill the competition. The numbers quickly dwindled down to the ghosts who were trained for this fight. All sorts of brawling ensued, from wrestling to pulling out weapons provided by their master. This is when things started to get bloody. The smarter ones who knew that they had to go to the pit sooner or later, decided to get there in their prime condition because the conditions were only going to get tougher. But the majority, influenced by the hard headed nature of hell, were digging their nails deep into their opponent's skull. Bloodlust reigned deep in their conscience. They had to be the last one standing. Kill them now or kill them later, it makes no difference.

While he was scanning the area his eyes suddenly met with the third prince's representative. It was like looking at one's mirror image. Awkwardly, he looked away—just in time to notice another player creeping toward him.

Zhang Xiyu fiddled with the wooden armrest of his chair. Meanwhile, the metallic sound of the dagger was buried under the boisterous cheers as it swiftly made its way towards Zhang Xiyu's skull.

Splash. Blood gushed out like a waterfall all over his face.

Zhang Xiyu wiped it off with his hand indifferently. Fortunately, it did not belong to him. The crowd turned still at such a development.

"What happened over there?"

"Move bitch! I can't see what's going on!"

"Oh my hell! Look! The representative is dead already!" A demon gasped in surprise.

Zhang Xiyu had used a rotten piece of wood and rammed it directly through his eyeball, piercing straight out of his skull.

The organising team blankly looked at the body which once belonged to the second representative.

What use is there in staring at a corpse? The team thought.

And so, they stared at the person responsible for this mess.

Zhang Xiyu felt their slight pressure but what can he even do about it? He deeply exhaled and under such scrutiny, he kicked the corpse down the platform. The body rolled down obediently, leaving a sticky trail of blood.

"Here comes the second part of the program! The moment you all have been waiting for! Give it up for the three representatives!"

Zhang Xiyu was now roaming the perimeter of the arena while trying to not draw any attention towards him. Once in a while, a ghost would pounce on him so then he would just stab them in the gut. He would not tag any ghosts out nor would he kill them, not out of the kindness deep down in his heart but to hide behind them and buy himself more time.

Within a few hours, Zhang Xiyu will realise that there was someone on that ground who was actively working against his plan. 

Yuan Hai looked at this player helplessly, noticing his futile struggle to find a way out of the arena. It was cute, how he went around in circles, not realising that he was wasting his energy and that his time was running out.

Is this what it feels like to have a pet?

Yutao saw no point in dawdling. He decided to kill everyone.

One by one, heads rolled under his blade.

He moved with silent devotion, carving a path of death through the chaos. The screams faded. The clamour dulled. Soon, the only sound left was the whimpering of a lone ghost trapped in his grasp.

Only then did he realize—

Everyone else was dead.

Yutao slouched down over his sword, trying to catch his breath. He looked certain that he was the last one standing.

"Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Look at this progression! We just saw a live demonstration of how mortals are rapidly increasing the population of our hell!" the announcer said.

"Trash! The lot of them!"

"I say why do we even bother with them!"

The announcer clears his throat. "And now! we're down to the final two! Let's get that tension up!" Horns blared around.

His eyes were wild, unfocused. A murderous aura clung to him like a second skin, soaked in blood and frenzy. His gaze swept the arena, ravenous. Where is it?

Where is it?

Yutao's sword flashed up just in time, parrying the blade aimed straight for his throat. The shock jolted him out of his haze. Thank God for my reflexes.

His body pivoted backwards while Zhang Xiyu retreated. "You." Zhang Xiyu blinked.

"It's you," Yutao said with a chuckle. "Didn't find an exit, huh? Shame. I was rooting for you."

"I saw you pacing like a lost dog. But you did help—stabbed a few, weakened the rest. Made my job easier."

"…Oh."

"Oh indeed." Yutao gave a gentle smile which looked so out of place that any sane person would run to the hills.

"I was hoping you would find a way out that's why I didn't disturb you." he added, almost regretful.

"Am I supposed to feel grateful?"

"No. Just let me sit for a moment before you try to kill me. Seeing as we've got the same goal now."

Zhang Xiyu kept his blade up but didn't move. It had been a long time since he'd had a normal conversation with anyone. Or close to one.

"What's your name?" Yutao sat down onto a corpse.

"Zhang Xiyu."

"The Zhang Family? Nice." He glanced around at the heckling demons, unbothered.

"My name's Yutao. Nice to meet you."

Zhang Xiyu slowly lowered his sword down. "I have heard of you. Weren't you killed spying for the Japanese."

"In the flesh. Not exactly how that went though." Yutao grinned.

"What about you?"

"Arson. Poisoning."

"Damn. Both? What were you, a minister?"

"Scholar-official."

"Ah. The elite academic debates can get deadly."

A demon groaned nearby. "Will you fuckers fight already?"

"Stop the banter. I want to go home. It's taking so long."

Yutao stood and brushed off his knees, sighing.

"Well, that's our cue. I don't really feel like killing you, so… guess I'll just tag you."

"How generous."

Zhang Xiyu lunged. His blade shot for Yutao's face. Yutao parried it just in time, but the pommel nearly clipped his jaw. He stumbled back, cracking his neck.

Why am I irritated?

Zhang Xiyu pressed forward, his longsword crashing against Yutao's. Yutao advanced, forcing their blades into a lock, hilts grinding close. "You are pretty good for a weak scholar."

Zhang Xiyu didn't respond. He tried to pull away, but Yutao wasn't done.

With his free hand, Yutao gripped the hilt of Zhang Xiyu's sword and drove a foot into his chest. The scholar flew back, crashing into a corpse. It cushioned his fall, but the air left his lungs in one choking gust. He barely started to rise when Yutao was already on him, sword poised inches from his heart.

"I'll be there soon, kid."

Zhang Xiyu gave him a blank look. Yutao's hand nimbly covered Zhang Xiyu's vulnerable neck.

Where he would remain for the next twenty decades.

"Then they tossed me the teleportation stone... and threw me into the pit too."

"So, you teleported out of the pit?" Renhu asks cautiously.

"I tried to. But I was a mere flimsy ghost. I didn't have any mana to channel inside the stone."

Renhu inhales sharply. "So, the teleportation stone was as good as a normal stone."

"Exactly. I had two choices: get eaten by these lovely creatures—" he gestured toward the frolicking monsters nearby "—or start cultivating the pit's demonic energy and try to reach at least the Foundation level."

"And once you learned cultivation… you used the stone?" Renhu asked, attempting to piece it together.

Yutao shook his head "No. I couldn't do that."

Renhu's brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"Because right after that…" Yutao's voice drops. "I was abducted by the Blue Lotus."