Chapter Sixty-Four: Traces of the Golden Dragon Scroll!

The City God declared that traces of the guilty spirit had been found near the Wang family estate, and that he would be conducting an inspection.

But how could the Wang family of the Lower Earth possibly agree to such a thing? If they truly opened their gates and allowed the City God to barge in with his men, their lives would be left at the mercy of others! Naturally, the Wang family would never consent to this.

The Wang clan was a powerful family in the Lower Earth. They could rally several hundred ghosts of formidable rank from among their own, and by utilizing their knowledge of the terrain and the protection of their fortified walls, they held the City God at a standoff.

Meanwhile, in the darkness, Wang Zhenling appeared outside the City God's shrine, arms folded. His face bore an inscrutable expression. Casually, he drew an inconspicuous mark on the shrine’s outer wall—seemingly nothing more than a child’s playful scrawl, completely unremarkable.

Then, as if he were merely passing by, he drifted away without haste.

This was the secret sign he had agreed upon with Cheng Tiandao. As for whether Cheng Tiandao would receive the message, Wang Zhenling had no doubt. In this county of Danling, there were quite a few who secretly worshipped Cheng Tiandao.

At this time, the City God was utterly unaware of all this. Leading five hundred ghost soldiers, he shouted in a booming voice, “If you do not open the gate, you are harboring a guilty spirit and a fugitive! We will storm your estate!”

The Wang family was incensed. “Our Wang clan is a great family of this land! How can a mere City God bully us at will? If you dare, try it and see what happens!”

The City God had not anticipated such defiance and was, for a moment, at a loss. He had expected that with an army at their gates, the Wang family would be deeply intimidated and ready to accept any terms he offered. He never imagined their attitude would provoke him to the point of wanting to order an assault.

Yet these ghost soldiers belonged to the government—they were not his private army. The Wang family had flourished for centuries, their estate in the Lower Earth was prosperous and heavily fortified, difficult to besiege. If he attacked the local aristocracy with official ghost soldiers, the consequences would be dire.

If victory came swiftly, all would be well, but it was clear the Wang family was not easily subdued. An assault would not succeed without heavy losses. And if those losses mounted and the Wang family still stood, it would be the City God himself who suffered.

Thus, he hesitated, unsure how to proceed.

The City God did not know that, at this very moment, several shadows had already slipped into his shrine and penetrated into the spiritual realm.

This so-called spiritual realm resembled a Daoist sanctuary, a projection of power made manifest in the Underworld, yet it was far grander in scale. For example, the Blackwater Sanctuary, no matter how grand, was but a courtyard. The City God’s spiritual domain, however, was an entire city, a ghostly reflection of Danling County in the Underworld.

In the world of the living, the city was governed by mortal authorities. But in the spiritual domain, it belonged wholly to the City God. Whether by day or night, the place was always shrouded in gloom, with no distinction between light and shadow.

Everywhere was dim and somber, with listless squads of ghost soldiers patrolling. These specters were, at most, lingering spirits, drifting along on their rounds, entirely incapable of detecting intruders. Once the patrols had passed, the shadows slipped out and pressed deeper into the city.

As they moved through the Lower Earth city, they found it lifeless and deserted. Like the world above, the city was divided by tall internal walls. Within these walls dwelled the shades and ghosts who sought the City God’s protection. Most were inert and silent; apart from patrolling spirits, only the occasional gust of ghostly wind disturbed the streets.

Only a few mansions shone with light, the sounds of music and laughter drifting out—these were the great families of the city, blessed with incense and virtue in the world above, their fortunes shining as divine radiance. Yet even these so-called great families were nothing.

The true local aristocracy—like the Wang clan of Danling—would never dwell within the city under the City God’s jurisdiction. Instead, they established ancestral estates of their own in the Lower Earth. This was the privilege of truly powerful families—and in all of Danling County, there were only four such families in centuries.

To leave the body and enter the Underworld required at least the cultivation of the Spirit-Soul stage—a power Wang Zhenling, even as County Constable, had not yet attained.

One can imagine, then, how formidable these shadows must be.

They sped like phantoms through the city, evading every patrol, and soon reached the City God’s manor.

If the great families in the city were shielded by incense, virtue, and divine protection, then the City God’s manor was guarded by the divine power of the City God himself. Even though the City God had led his forces away, a faint, flame-like radiance still enveloped the manor.

“One must admit, the City God of this place is truly powerful, worthy of the title Red-Decree Spirit. Fortunately, the constable distracted him, or breaking in would not be so easy!” said one of the Daoists. He thrust his vine staff into the ground, formed seals with his hands, and began to chant.

Objects from the world above were usually insubstantial here in the Underworld. The fact that this vine staff could be brought here meant it was no ordinary artifact.

As the green-robed Daoist chanted and made seals, the staff sprouted leaves and branches, transforming in an instant into a living vine. Dozens of tendrils unfurled, and as they touched the radiance, they absorbed and blotted it out. In the blink of an eye, the once-brilliant manor was plunged into darkness.

The ghost soldiers and officials guarding the manor were alarmed by this sudden change, bewildered and at a loss.

“Go! Make it quick—we must find the Golden Dragon Scroll at once!”

“Yes!” came the reply.

No longer hiding, the experts let their spirit flames blaze red as they stormed into the manor, cutting down all who opposed them. Even the weakest among them was at the Spirit-Soul stage, each the equal of a Red-Decree Spirit—how could ordinary ghosts and officials hope to resist?

They carved a path of chaos through the manor.

At that very moment, as the City God remained deadlocked with the Wang family—unable to advance, yet too proud to retreat—he suddenly sensed the light of his manor being smothered by the vine. His face changed dramatically.

“Something is wrong! Quickly, return to the spiritual realm!”