Chapter 43: Chapter Sixteen: The Twelve Lamps Part 1

Old Tang shone the flashlight from his bag onto her wound to provide light. Wang Ya applied a Band-Aid to the injury on her knee, but it was soon soaked through with blood. The bright red blood formed a thin red line that trickled down her snow-white calf, and the Band-Aid wouldn’t stick.

Seeing how deep Wang Ya’s wound was—exposing even the bone—Old Tang said, “You still have some of that ointment I gave you earlier, right? I got it from Old Miaozi. It’s great for stopping bleeding and reducing swelling.”

Wang Ya pulled the remaining ointment from her pocket and applied it to the wound. The pain eased considerably right away, and the blood was staunched by the ointment. She applied another Band-Aid, and though blood still seeped through to stain it red, it at least stayed firmly in place. Wang Ya handed the remaining bit of ointment back to Old Tang and said, “Old Tang, sorry.”

Old Tang waved it off. “No need for that at this point. Earlier, Little Zhang and A’qi did a quick scout around. This seems to be an underground palace. Look at the pillars and floor tiles nearby—they’re ancient. And check out these roots; the roots of this plant have pierced through and wrapped around the entire underground palace.”

Wang Ya said, “Zhang Qingshui said this underground palace has a Restrictive Seal. Can she break it?”

Old Tang looked at Wang Ya silently for a moment before asking, “Wang Ya, why didn’t the Soul-Guiding Lamp lead us out of the Yellow Springs earlier? And how did we end up here?”

Wang Ya said, “You mean that green face we saw was behind it?”

Old Tang’s face grew grave. “Little Zhang can break formations, but she can’t handle a demon that’s gained sentience like this. A’qi can find the way out, but we tried earlier and ended up walking in circles after a certain point—we couldn’t take another step. My shikigami couldn’t break through the barrier either; it could only chop off the roots that came curling toward us. We have no water or food. If we’re trapped here, we’ll all be dead in three to five days.” He paused briefly. “On the Yellow Springs Road, the only plants are Yellow Springs Other Shore Flowers.”

Wang Ya said, “This is a Yellow Springs Other Shore Demon Flower, related to that Other Shore Flower petal in the Yin Spirit Scroll?”

Old Tang’s expression was heavy. “Very likely the same root source. The flower roots are on the Yellow Springs Road, and the bloom was sealed in the Yin Spirit Scroll by the Feng Family. You must have heard the legend of the Yellow Springs Other Shore Flower.”

Wang Ya spoke slowly. “The Yellow Springs Other Shore Flower, the Soul-Guiding Flower blooming on the Yellow Springs Road. It blooms for a thousand years, falls for a thousand years. No flower without leaves, no leaves without flower. Flower and leaf forever apart, mistaken through lifetimes.” She recalled hearing in a daze on the Yellow Springs Road, as that demon flower nearly drained her life, “Blooms a thousand years, falls a thousand years. Is that you? It’s you, right?” Her dad had said a huge flower bloomed on her body, Huang Qi said there was a great demon inside her, and thinking back to that faint “Come back and keep me company,” she said, “Could it be that the demon flower sealed by the Feng Family in the Yin Spirit Scroll was released by me on the Yellow Springs Road and entered my body? The flower and leaf recognized each other, and it wants to kill me here to let the flower soul return?”

Old Tang said, “That’s the only guess we can make. So, Wang Ya, whether we get out depends on you.”

Wang Ya nearly exploded with frustration: That demon flower wanted her dead here—how could she get out? She remembered the Yellow Springs Other Shore Flower she’d seen when unrolling the scroll earlier, and that indescribable emotion welled up again, filling her with inexplicable irritation. She had entered the Yellow Springs to find her grandma in the Underworld Courts, not to be trapped here and abandon her dad.

Seeing Wang Ya fall silent, Old Tang shone the flashlight toward Zhang Qingshui and Huang Qi, who were walking in the darkness. Huang Qi and Zhang Qingshui stood by a pillar, with Zhang Qingshui calculating something and occasionally shifting her steps.

When Old Tang moved the flashlight beam, Wang Ya instinctively followed its direction. Her gaze swept over the ground illuminated by the flashlight’s edge, and she vaguely glimpsed something on the floor. Feeling something off, she focused on the ground. It was covered in neat square tiles etched with faint patterns, glistening with moisture. Under the light, a very faint blackish mist rose, making the beam hazy and dim, as if even the light was being swallowed. Having dealt with yin spirits and ghosts for years, Wang Ya recognized at a glance that this was no moisture—it was Yin Qi! She didn’t know what restriction kept the Yin Qi gathered on the floor tiles, condensed and unmoving, so dense that even she, so sensitive to it, hadn’t noticed.

Wang Ya suddenly felt this place likely held more than just the Other Shore Demon Flower! What did one demon flower need with such a vast underground palace? An underground palace under the Yellow Springs? Who would build one there? For whom? Ghosts from the Underworld Courts? If so, where were the ghosts? The Yin Qi on the tiles was nearly condensing into mist—what kind of big ghost would such concentrated Yin Qi nurture!

Wang Ya didn’t want to scare herself, didn’t want another ghost here, but the signs made her think. She remembered her Yin Spirit Scroll—if there was something, she could just collect it! Feeling a bit more confident, her heavy mood lightened slightly. She asked Old Tang beside her, “Old Tang, how is there an underground palace under the Yellow Springs? What is it for?”

Old Tang glanced at her. “What are you getting at?”

Before Wang Ya could speak, Zhang Qingshui flicked her hand, sending the tender green Green Vine wrapped around her arm sweeping toward the stone pillar. The roots on the pillar recoiled upon touching the vine.

Zhang Qingshui called, “Uncle Tang, flashlight.”

Old Tang hurried to her side and shone the flashlight on the pillar, revealing a lamp stand. He stood on tiptoe and peered in. “The lamp oil is still full.” He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the wick inside.

Wang Ya stared intently at the lamp stand. Embedded in the pillar, about thirty centimeters tall, the lamp was carved into the shape of an underworld evil ghost. It knelt half-crouched, one hand holding the lamp, the other gripping a fork, its vicious eyes glaring ferociously at her, as if ready to leap down and stab. Wang Ya shifted her gaze to the pillar, which bore the same patterns as the floor, also shrouded in mist-like Yin Qi. She even saw the Yin Qi seeping into the pillar along the patterns.