Chapter 1436: Chapter 889: The Underworld’s Special Function_2

On the altar, various offerings were arrayed, ancient runes flickering upon them, emanating a faint fluorescent glow.

In the center of the altar, there stood a colossal statue.

Shen Zhinan’s eyes widened in shock.

That statue, it was actually an identical likeness of himself!

However, the statue’s mouth was wide open, revealing an obscure and unfathomable darkness within, like a passage, but it was unknown where it led.

At this moment, Shen Zhinan felt a gaze fall upon him.

He quickly turned his head.

He discovered a man wearing a white robe alongside him, slowly fixing his gaze upon Shen Zhinan.

Before Shen Zhinan could speak, the other party took the initiative and said, “Tomorrow, this seat will find you and bestow upon you a great opportunity.”

Jiang Hui calmly retrieved his gaze from the small hell’s passage and spoke unhurriedly.

The main reason he came here was to verify a conjecture of his own.

The role of Ghost Emperor in The Underworld might not have much to do with one’s cultivation realm, but rather with other aspects, such as, for instance, being a personal passage to purgatory.

Shen Zhinan was stunned for a moment, not yet recovered when the scene before him suddenly became exceedingly blurry, as if someone was vigorously stirring the Mirage in the water.

The next day.

Just as dawn broke, the morning light gently draped over the small house with its black tiled and earthen walls like a soft gauze.

Inside the house, Shen Zhinan suddenly opened his eyes, gasping with great heaving breaths.

“How terrifying?!”

Shen Zhinan woke from the dream, yet was unsure whether he should feel frightened or not.

If it’s about the first half of the dream, then indeed it’s very scary; he could feel it, the dream seemed intent on taking him away.

But if it included the second half… then it may not be so frightening after all.

Just.

Recalling what happened in the dream, Shen Zhinan felt somewhat dazed.

Was it really just a dream?

If it was just a dream, why had he been having the same dream for a considerably long time?

Moreover, the images and sensations in the dream were too vivid, weren’t they?

He climbed up from the pit and, using the clean moonlight filtering in through the window, inspected his body closely, finding no sign of broken arms or legs.

Really just a dream?

At this moment, Shen Zhinan seemed to remember something, hurrying to look beside him in the moonlight; the bedding was empty, without that familiar figure.

His mind became blank.

Right then, a familiar figure quietly appeared at his room’s doorway. Shen Zhinan’s head shot up, and he saw Jiang Hui, clad in a robe pure as snow, his garment fluttering like that of a descending Immortal, standing quietly there with a deep and mysterious gaze.

“Who are you?”

The same question as in the dream.

If you remove the gloomy, hoarse tone from the dream, the two voices sounded very similar.

Of course, this was also an inevitable matter.

After all, although small hell could already engulf its master, it still used Shen Zhinan as a host.

In the dream, if Shen Zhinan had looked closer, he would’ve found that those cadaverous figures on the Black Ship were actually all himself, not at the same age, but encompassing Shen Zhinan from his childhood to his old age, from youth to twilight.

Jiang Hui’s lips curved into a slight smile, he slowly extended his hand, palm up, a Token quietly lying in its center. This Token, unlike the one Shen Zhinan had seen in his dreams, radiated an indescribable temperature, not cold nor hot, but a kind of reverent warmth. On the surface of the Token, there was an engraving of a ferocious unknown beast, its eyes blazing like torches, baring sharp fangs, as if it could break free from the Token at any moment, devouring everything.

Beasts all around are entwined with intricate runes that shimmer in a ghostly blue light, akin to the most brilliant stars in the night sky or the mystical spells from ancient legends, invoking reverence in all who behold them. On the back of the token, there is a complex pattern, vaguely showing mountains and rivers, the sun, the moon, and the stars, as if condensing the entire world’s mysteries within this small space.

Shen Zhinan’s eyes widened in disbelief as he gazed at the token, feeling an indescribable sense of shock welling up inside him. With a trembling voice, he cautiously asked, “What… what is this?”

Jiang Hui smiled faintly, his eyes revealing depths of profundity and anticipation. “This is the identity token of the Eastern Ghost Emperor. It not only represents your supreme authority in The Underworld but also conceals endless secrets and power. With this token, you can command the ghosts, govern the cycle of life and death, and even, open portals to other mysterious domains.”

Upon hearing this, Shen Zhinan felt an irrepressible surge of excitement. He reached out with a trembling hand, took over the token, and felt a warm power seeping into his body from the token,

“If it were not for me,”

Jiang Hui nodded gently, his eyes filled with encouragement and trust. “Yes, Shen Zhinan, you have the potential to be the Eastern Ghost Emperor. But remember, power and strength do not come out of nowhere; they require your wisdom, courage, and responsibility to safeguard. The road ahead is long and challenging, but I believe you can go further.”

Shen Zhinan clenched the token tightly, feeling the power and warmth it contained, his heart swelling with an unprecedented resolve and courage.

As the sun rose higher, its golden rays spilled over the whole village, Shen Zhinan stood at his doorstep, looking at the distant unknown world, his heart brimming with limitless longing and hope. He knew that from this day forward, his fate would undergo earth-shattering changes, and he, too, would usher in a brand-new self.

What surprised Jiang Hui was that the King of Reincarnation had not attained enlightenment from his last reincarnation.

He had some understanding, but it was far from enough.

And with time slipping away, that trace of clarity would soon be lost, truly becoming a mortal.

Years changed, half a year of hardships passed, with children and grandchildren filling the home, the life can’t be considered wealthy, but food and drink were plentiful.

But the older one gets, the slimmer the chances of awakening become.

This was not the outcome Jiang Hui wished to see.

If a gentle approach won’t work, then a forceful one must be employed.

Originally, it was hoped that the King of Reincarnation would come to realize on his own and eventually take up his Dao Fruit once again, returning to power. Now, it seems unlikely, but luckily, Jiang Hui is able to intervene, and this intervention will not affect the identity verification of the token, but as for other effects, Jiang Hui is not certain.

After all, the situation of the King of Reincarnation and Shen Zhinan are not quite the same, the latter, if not assisted, might forever degenerate into his own small hell within the dream.

By that time, with physical death, the soul lost, the gates to the small hell of reality would open completely, thereafter affecting reality.

…

Inside the bamboo hut.

The King of Reincarnation, with white hair gracing his temples, lies half-reclined, lain sideways on the Taishi Chair beneath him.

The Taishi Chair rocks gently, and he appears quite content.

Now, he has reached the age of sixty years.

At sixty, one is considered to have reached a venerable age.

For a mortal, this age is actually considered quite advanced.

In his life, although he hasn’t accumulated wealth, he has lived comfortably, and by rights, should be enjoying his blessings at this age.

Only, the King of Reincarnation always felt as if he had forgotten something.

Something that should be very important to him.

“Can’t remember…”

The King of Reincarnation rubbed his forehead. Whenever he tried to forcibly recall what he had forgotten, his head would throb painfully, unbearably so.

But this time…

After a brief headache, the King of Reincarnation found that the world before his eyes had become somewhat different.

The heavens and earth were no longer clear; everywhere was shrouded in a murky fog, drifting through the air.

Then.

The drifting fog seemed to be caught by an invisible pair of hands, suddenly flowing rapidly.

The King of Reincarnation stood at the void’s edge, surrounded by splendid and mysterious light, as if an ancient being who had crossed the river of time and space. Before him, scenes overlapped like shattered mirrors, each fragment bearing a past memory, floating in the void, weaving into a magnificent historical tapestry.

In the torrent of memories, it seemed he saw his former identity–not the unknown villager, but the King of Reincarnation who loomed above the Nine Heavens, with the ultimate power to control reincarnation, to reverse life and death. Each cycle of reincarnation was meant to temper the spirit, to amass power, all for the day when he would reclaim the long-lost authority and stand once more at the pinnacle of the Ten Thousand Realms.