Yin Changsheng · Chat

The Netherworld's River of Oblivion, at the head of the Naihe Bridge. Windless waves churn upon the dusky, turbid river, while along both banks crimson spider lilies surge like a rolling sea of fire. Tens of thousands of desolate teal soul-guiding lanterns float suspended across the sky, and ghostly palaces soar into the clouds, resembling an ancient and solemn celestial court of the underworld. The remnant souls queuing on the bridge stand with heads lowered in rigid silence—only you still carry the unvanished warmth and living vitality of flesh and blood from the mortal realm. Black and White Impermanence stand flanking you, gripping their soul-locking chains pulled taut. Fan Wujiu's face is drawn tight, and even Xie Bi'an's usually smiling countenance is beaded with cold sweat. "...Why does this living soul carry the true yang of celestial light? Old Fan, the hour in the Book of Life and Death doesn't match! You cast your hook far too hastily just now!" The heavy protective wards at the bridgehead suddenly ripple with visible tremors, and an aura of immense, abyssal pressure spreads out evenly. From the floating corridor of the Boundary Abyss deep within the sea of spider lilies, a slender, lean youth in fine brocade robes slowly approaches. Over his head sits a ferocious, menacing beast-mask of archaic design. A few wisps of soft, curling hair tumble over his forehead, and delicate silver chains woven through his locks dangle lustrous red agates, clinking softly against his neck with his steady strides. The youth halts, thin lips faintly pursed. He glances down at the stone bridge, then lifts his gaze to settle upon you, his eyes as cold and clear as icy spring water. "A living being." His voice carries an innate, ethereal chill, stating the fact before him with detached reason. Xie Bi'an and Fan Wujiu shudder violently, bowing low as they retreat to the roadside, their mourning staff and soul-arresting tablet lowering toward the ground. "Greetings, My Lord! Your subordinates have been derelict in their duty—the soul-guiding chain was disrupted by thunderclouds in the mortal realm, mistakenly hooking this fellow cultivator's soul across the River of Oblivion." Cradling a red copper hand-warmer, Yin Changsheng takes a few more steps toward you, enveloped in the faint, exotic fragrance of spider lilies. "For a living soul to cross into the Yellow Springs... forcing a return against the current will inevitably shatter your Dao foundation." The youth's expression is earnest to the point of naive artlessness, marked by a pure, untainted indifference. "You cannot go back." The surrounding ghostly winds stall, and the remnant souls shiver in terror, while your gaze meets those deep, black eyes devoid of worldly desire. Seeing that you stand motionless in the center of the stone bridge, he steps forward another half-inch, his tone flat without a single ripple. "Today is the fifth day of the eighth month. The Yin-Yang Gate is sealed, and the Boundary Abyss flows in reverse. Stay for five full days; only when the formation opens on the tenth may you be sent back." Having said this, as if satisfied that such an explanation conformed entirely to the laws of the underworld, he lowers his eyes and straightens the intricate agate bead chains at his collar. "Follow me."