Staring at the enormous formation before me, I realized it would probably take until nightfall to complete. In the center, within an inverted triangle and circular array, several stones inscribed with blood-red runes had already been placed. The stones varied in size and material—some large, some small, more than a dozen in total. The largest one was unlike anything I'd ever seen, its rough, greenish surface strangely unfamiliar.
"By the way, Samuel Young, about what Xu Fu mentioned earlier—your disciple..."
I had just begun to speak when Samuel Young's expression turned bitter. He stopped, letting out a sigh.
"He was my most accomplished disciple. He's been dead for over a hundred years now."
I responded with a quiet acknowledgment. It was obvious that, although Samuel Young despised Xu Fu, he was even more consumed by guilt. His face was etched with remorse.
"Maybe if I had cared a little more back then, he wouldn't have lost his way."
Afterward, Samuel Young began to speak.
That disciple was the brightest among all Samuel Young's students. By the age of thirty, he had already reached the state of Great Enlightenment, able to naturally draw upon the forces of nature to prolong his life. Many of his peers envied him, and Samuel Young took great pride in him—because in the eyes of the other disciples, he was a source of intense jealousy.
Samuel Young knew he had found a worthy successor. He never liked imposing his own beliefs on his students, preferring them to seek their own path. Sometimes, he would only see them once every year or two to assess their progress and help resolve their doubts.
But when this disciple reached his forties, he started to question some of his teachings. It was a dangerous sign. Once Samuel Young noticed, he tried to gently guide him, hoping he would hold onto his convictions and continue his cultivation, pushing aside those distracting thoughts.
But what Samuel Young hadn’t expected was that his disciple’s health began to deteriorate. Consumed by deep doubts about everything he’d learned, his faith—the very foundation of his Taoist upbringing—started to waver. Once faith falters and is questioned, the power it grants begins to slip away.
By the time Samuel Young realized what was happening, the disciple had already fallen into the demonic path. This was the most painful part for Samuel Young. The so-called demonic path refers to Taoists who, unable to break through their own limits, turn to forbidden arts for progress. If they don’t, their own power turns against them—much like the karmic obstacles in Buddhism.
But unlike karmic obstacles, falling into the demonic path also means resorting to forbidden techniques—especially those involving the summoning of ghosts, which is strictly forbidden in Taoism except for the Mount Mason Order, whose practices differ entirely. Samuel Young had once consulted Elder Peach, hoping he could save his disciple by accepting him as a student and teaching him the Mount Mason Order’s ways, to free him from the backlash of his own power.
But the disciple refused, no matter what—he was deeply resistant to switching allegiances. Seeing all this, Samuel Young could only try to guide him every day, but with his faith shaken, the foundation he’d built over the years began to crumble.
The disciple began to age rapidly. Samuel Young, unable to bear watching this decline, locked him inside the sect’s gates, hoping he could find peace and continue his cultivation. But one day, the disciple escaped, and Samuel Young never saw him again—until, using his calculations, he discovered the disciple had died days before.
During that time, Samuel Young felt a constant unease. He started investigating the cause of his disciple’s death, and eventually found it—the disciple had joined the Immortality Society, willingly becoming one of its members. But in the end, he died, unable to survive their trials. When his body was transformed into the unique flesh of the Immortality Society, he couldn’t withstand it and died.
"Sigh. Since then, I’ve never taken another disciple. Tianhun, maybe it was my inaction that killed him. I noticed his change early on, but I thought he could pull through. If he did, he’d surpass me and reach enlightenment even faster. But I never imagined it would end like this."
I let out a helpless sigh.
"I don’t really understand the way you cultivators live—so detached from the world. As humans, you’re all so selfish, ignoring things even when you have the power to help."
Samuel Young smiled and nodded.
"That’s how it’s always been for us, especially through years of worldly power struggles. Both the Buddhist and Taoist sects, and countless other schools, have endured man-made disasters—several times, nearly to the point of extinction. Maybe that’s why we’re this way. Unlike the Nether Syndicate or the Renegade Monks, our practice is rooted in tranquility. Life and death are set by fate, and forcing things only brings harm."
I stared at Samuel Young, puzzled. It seemed he was hiding something.
"Let me put it this way. If we interfere in worldly matters, like those caused by ghosts—such things should be managed by the Underworld Court, not us. Cultivators who meddle in these affairs end up tainted by filth, which hinders their progress. It’s not worth it, and it can provoke the Underworld Court or other ghosts, leading to unnecessary conflict. Over the years, some from the Buddhist and Taoist sects have crossed the line, but they’re usually weak—because they interfered where they shouldn’t, and so they’re punished. Their cultivation stagnates. Many ghost-hunters end up miserable and alone, their skills wasted. That’s why most in the supernatural world avoid worldly matters. The paths of humans and ghosts are separate. Ghost problems need ghosts to solve, not us. Human problems are handled by the laws of the era, and aren’t ours to meddle in."
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I gave a helpless smile.
"Didn’t the first practitioners invent their arts to deal with ghosts?"
Samuel Young sighed and shook his head.
"The creation of these arts wasn’t to fight ghosts. We’re different from the descendants of Nuwa—their power, and that of certain families, was indeed meant to oppose ghosts. But our purpose is to seek the true self, the essence of all things, the root of heaven and earth. We strive to understand, to feel, to become one with nature. Whether Buddhist or Taoist, all our arts are built on self-realization. We can’t save the world or rescue others from danger—people have to save themselves. The original goal was always self-discovery, not conflict."
I looked at Samuel Young with new understanding. What he said made sense.
"It’s just a shame the Underworld Court does nothing, and the laws humans create aren’t perfect—they always favor those in power. It’s the same now. It’s not that we don’t act, but the Underworld Court is in chaos. They should manage the ghosts, but they let so many lost souls wander the living world. What obligation or right do we have to help them? After all, we’re not the managers—we’re just cultivators in the supernatural world."
Samuel Young let out a helpless sigh.
"This world is full of impermanence. Everyone hopes to be saved, but aren’t we cultivators the same? We need saving too, but no one comes for us. So, we can only save ourselves. Now the Underworld Court wants to drag us down with them. That’s why we turned a deaf ear to their last request—because we know where our interests lie. If this world is doomed, it’s because it’s reached its own end, not because of us. It has nothing to do with us."
I nodded.
"It’s true, none of this is your fault, yet they want to drag you down with them."
I gave a bitter smile. Just then, I heard the sound of a car in the distance. Soon, an off-road vehicle drove up. I stood up as Xu Fu got out from the passenger seat. The middle-aged driver bowed to Xu Fu, then drove away.
Samuel Young said nothing and continued drawing the ritual array.
Xu Fu walked over, looking pleased. He had changed into a more fitted, close-cut outfit.
"Looks like there’s still a long way to go. Should I have someone bring food and drinks?"
I shook my head, staring at Xu Fu and asked,
"Xu Fu, what do you think this war will become?"
Xu Fu looked at me in confusion, then glanced at Samuel Young and laughed.
"This time, the Underworld Court is bound to lose. They can’t deal with Old Hell, and Old Hell is fully prepared. The Underworld Court is just getting started. Anyone can see they’re doomed."
I gave Xu Fu a cold smile.
"Isn’t this exactly what you like to see?"
"Don’t say that, Tianhun. We do love chaos—because in chaos, we can accomplish a lot. But this time, we have to get involved ourselves. If we lose, it’s all over. Of course, if the Buddhist and Taoist sects join, there might be a glimmer of hope. And if Zhang Qingyuan returns, our odds of winning go way up."
I looked at Samuel Young in the distance. It seemed Xu Fu’s words were meant for him.