Chapter 127: Meeting the Martial Uncle Again

As they plummeted downward, Yun Jiao swiftly pulled out a Lightbody Talisman and activated it, narrowly dodging the falling rocks. She even managed to grab Captain Jiao by the sleeve, stabilizing both of them before they hit the ground.

A wave of icy cold air immediately swept over them. The surrounding light dimmed sharply, and thick yin energy began to surge, filling the area like a suffocating fog—completely opposite to the abundant spiritual energy above.

“This place down here isn’t half bad,” Xi Teng remarked cheerfully, hefting his enormous cleaver over one shoulder. He seemed utterly oblivious to the destruction he’d just caused. Glancing around with satisfaction, he suddenly pointed upward. “Hey, little ghost, that’s probably your ‘Yang array,’ right?”

Yun Jiao looked up instinctively—and sure enough, there on the elevated platform above them glowed a massive crimson array identical to the one that had trapped Han Shu earlier. The only difference was that where the upper formation pulsed with rich spiritual energy, this one radiated bone-chilling yin power.

And within the array sat two figures. One was completely shrouded by swirling darkness, but the other—dressed in a white robe streaked with blood—looked painfully familiar.

“Wait… that’s—”

“Uncle Wen!” Yun Jiao shouted, beating Xi Teng to it. She leapt forward using her talisman’s power, landing lightly on the edge of the array. Indeed, sitting cross-legged inside were Wen Qing and another man she didn’t recognize—an immortal, judging by the faint threads of celestial aura still clinging to his battered form.

“It really is Senior Wen!” Captain Jiao exclaimed in surprise. He had met this man before—back in West City when they subdued the ghost Chi Xiao. He didn’t know the man’s full name, only that he was Yun Jiao’s martial uncle, surnamed Wen. Yun Jiao had said later that her uncle had returned to their sect ahead of her… so why was he here, trapped in the Underworld?

“You know them?” Xi Teng asked, glancing between them. Even if Captain Jiao couldn’t tell, he himself recognized immediately that the two men were from the celestial realm. The fact that these supposed “newly dead ghosts” were acquainted with immortals made him pause—but he didn’t pry.

Yun Jiao crouched by the array, studying the two carefully. Wen Qing’s condition was dire—his white robes were soaked with blood, his breath faint, and his spiritual power rapidly draining. The array was actively siphoning both his energy and cultivation, and once it ran dry, the encroaching yin energy would consume his very soul.

Without hesitation, Yun Jiao got to work. She first disabled the part of the array that was absorbing spiritual energy, then began severing the link between the two twin formations.

Heaven-grade formations were far more complex than ordinary ones, so this took longer than usual. What she could normally dismantle in half a quarter-hour ended up taking her a full quarter and a half—but at last, the two arrays began to separate. The light between them stretched, crackling with strain, until finally both formations collapsed with a faint sizzle and vanished.

The body of Han Shu—his Three-Yin vessel—fell from above. Xi Teng stepped forward instinctively and caught it, sending a pulse of yin energy through it to check. Just as Yun Jiao had said, it was an empty shell; the soul was long gone. His eyes darkened.

Meanwhile, Yun Jiao was already tending to the two injured immortals. Their conditions were nearly identical: bodies shattered, celestial meridians severed, and what little immortal essence remained was fading fast. She quickly took out her silver needles, stabilizing their heart meridians first before applying acupuncture patterns to repair their channels.

Moments later, both men twitched faintly. The one less severely injured—Wen Qing—slowly opened his eyes. His vision focused on the young woman in front of him, calmly inserting needles.

For a long moment, he just stared, dazed. Was he dreaming? Why else would he see his master’s beloved little disciple—his outrageous little junior—here in the Underworld? Clearly Han Shu’s treachery had driven him mad enough to hallucinate. He shut his eyes again.

“Uncle Wen?” Yun Jiao frowned. He’d just opened his eyes—why close them again? Her acupuncture was flawless. To test his reflexes, she flicked another needle straight into his pain point.

“OW!!!” Wen Qing yelped, jolting upright as though electrified, back straight as a board.

Mm. Her technique was working perfectly.

“L-little junior niece?!” Wen Qing finally recognized her. He stared at her as if she’d grown wings, then around the chamber. “This is still the Underworld—how did you end up here?”

“It’s a long story,” Yun Jiao replied evenly, pulling out another needle. “I’ll explain later.”

“Junior brother?” A weak voice came from beside them. The second immortal had woken as well, blinking in confusion.

“Second senior brother, you’re awake!” Wen Qing exclaimed, momentarily forgetting his wounds. Guilt clouded his face. “If you hadn’t taken that strike for me… Damn it, I was blind! Who could’ve imagined Han Shu would betray us—turn against his own masters!”

His anger surged again, and when his eyes landed on the limp body in Xi Teng’s arms, his expression twisted. “Han Shu!” He shot to his feet, fury blazing, and lunged forward.

“What are you doing?!” Xi Teng cried, stepping back and gripping his sword protectively.

Yun Jiao reacted instantly, grabbing Wen Qing by the collar and yanking him back down. “You’re half-dead, stop thrashing around!”

Wen Qing yowled in pain—and that’s when he noticed the needle she’d stuck in his pain point earlier was still there. The movement had just driven it deeper. Groaning, he still managed to shout through gritted teeth, “Junior niece, take the needle out later! That bastard Han Shu is the one who ambushed us and sealed us here!”

“That’s impossible!” Xi Teng barked before Yun Jiao could respond. “My senior brother has always been righteous and upright—he would never do something like that!”

Wen Qing’s fury only intensified. He pointed accusingly at the body. “If you don’t believe me, wake him up and make him swear it! Let’s see if he dares lie now!”

The moment those words left his mouth, silence fell. Everyone froze, expressions darkening.

“…Uncle Wen,” Yun Jiao finally said quietly, “he’s not pretending.”

“What?” Wen Qing blinked.

“If I’m right,” she continued, voice low, “Han Shu’s soul dissipated months ago. What you see there is only an empty vessel.”

“What?!” Wen Qing gasped, eyes wide. He turned to look again at the corpse in Xi Teng’s arms. In his fury and injury he hadn’t noticed before—but now he saw it clearly. Han Shu’s limbs were rigid, his body devoid of any life force.

“No… that’s impossible,” he whispered hoarsely. “We saw him just days ago—in Youling City! He spoke to us. He trapped us—”

He broke off mid-sentence, realization dawning. His face went pale. Both he and his senior brother exchanged grim looks, horror settling in their eyes.

If Han Shu had died long ago…

Then who—or what—had they met that day?

(End of Chapter)