Conspiracy in the Underworld

The next day, the rain had just ceased. The sky hung low and dark like ink, and the air was thick with the mingled scent of damp earth and blood.

On the streets of Laizhou, doors and windows remained shut tight. The few pedestrians moved swiftly, cloaks drawn close, heads lowered.

All seemed calm—but beneath this stillness, unseen currents churned.

Clad in a plain black official robe, Li Fang stood silently before the City God Temple.

The temple door stood ajar. Within, curling incense smoke wafted through the air, and dozens of oil lamps flickered faintly on the altar table.

Each lamp symbolized a lost life.

Lowering his gaze, Li Fang dropped a single paper coin into the incense burner.

Ash swirled as his voice echoed softly through the hall:

"May this city be protected. May the innocent find peace."

No sooner had his words fallen than a gust of cold wind swept through the doorway. A yellowed slip of paper fluttered in from the gap, dancing silently to the floor.

Li Fang's eyes flickered. He picked it up.

Scrawled in hurried, smudged ink were a few terse words:

[Midnight. Behind the temple. The well.]

The writing was rough, the ink still damp. It had just been written.

Li Fang frowned slightly, then slipped the paper into his sleeve and turned, walking calmly into the temple's inner chambers.

—

Night fell. The moon cast a pale, ghostly light, spilling over the overgrown courtyard behind the temple, staining it in shades of sorrow.

The well sat crumbling in the center, its stone rim cracked and weathered. It had long since been abandoned.

Li Fang approached slowly. The night was so still, even the wind held its breath.

He peered into the depths—darkness stared back, and from that darkness, a faint trace of unnatural cold rose upward.

Suddenly, a withered hand emerged from the void, grasping the rim of the well.

Li Fang did not flinch. He simply watched.

Moments later, a hunched figure climbed out of the well—a stooped old man in tattered robes of an Underworld official, a corroded bronze badge upon his chest barely legible:

"Nether Patrol."

The old man kept his head low. His voice rasped like dead leaves:

"Lord City God… would you like to know the true cause behind the bloodshed in Laizhou?"

Li Fang's gaze darkened. He answered softly:

"Speak."

The old man glanced around, ensuring no one else was near, before lowering his voice further:

"The chaos in Laizhou… was not all Lu Huaide's doing."

"There are those of high rank in the Underworld who permitted the blood pool to form. It was all to… lure something forth."

Li Fang's brows drew together. His voice sank:

"What thing?"

The old man's lips twisted, an indescribable bitter smile forming:

"A Grudge Incarnate."

"—A vengeful spirit suppressed for three hundred years. Its hatred so thick, it nearly reached divine transformation."

"If it can be captured and refined into the Book of Life and Death, one could wield the fate of an entire city."

At this, the old man lifted his gaze. Clouded eyes met Li Fang's with unsettling clarity.

"Do you understand now, my lord? Your appointment as City God… it was not by merit."

"You were placed here."

Silence descended like a shroud.

After a long pause, Li Fang finally asked:

"Who placed me?"

The old man's voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible:

"Lord Du Xuanling… steward of the Underworld."

Li Fang's pupils contracted slightly.

Du Xuanling—one of the Twelve Stewards of the Underworld. His jurisdiction included the appointment and reassignment of all City Gods across the mortal realm. His power was immense.

If the old man spoke true… then Li Fang had been a pawn from the very beginning.

The title of City God was never an honor—it was bait.

The Laizhou blood massacre, the awakening of the Grudge Incarnate, the countless innocent dead—

—All meticulously orchestrated.

Seeing Li Fang's silence, the old man sighed.

"My lord… if you continue to dig deeper, I fear…"

He raised a finger to his neck and drew it across in a silent gesture of execution.

With that, he shrank back into the well.

Darkness swallowed him whole, leaving behind only a faint, fading sigh:

"May fate be kind to you, my lord…"

—

Li Fang stood alone beside the ruined well for a long, wordless moment.

The cold moon cut across his pale features like a blade, casting a chill across his expressionless face.

Far off, amidst the crumbling alleys of Laizhou, a black cat sat silently, its golden eyes unblinking as it watched him from the shadows.

Farther still, beyond the city walls, a jet-black carriage rolled silently along an old road.

Inside, a skeletal hand slowly lifted the curtain, revealing an aged and vulture-like face.

The man let out a low, mirthless chuckle:

"A new City God, is it? Heh… pawns always awaken, sooner or later."

"But a pawn… remains a pawn."

The wind rose. The night deepened.

In the darkness, a far greater conspiracy quietly began to unfold.