Beneath the Undercurrent

After returning to Laizhou City, Li Fang immediately sensed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

The government officials in the yamen walked on eggshells, and obscure rumors rippled through the streets.

Some claimed the City God had failed in his duty, allowing the blood calamity to spread unchecked.

Others whispered that Li Fang had colluded with the vengeful dead in secret, trying to redeem his failures with merit.

Li Fang watched it all with cold detachment, offering no defense.

He had expected this long ago.

Three days later, an official edict from the Underworld arrived.

—

[Summon: City God of Laizhou, Li Fang, to appear before Youdu for direct inquest and reporting.]

The seal at the bottom bore the unmistakable mark of the Left Division of Fengdu.

Fengdu—the core of power in the Underworld. The Left Division—responsible for oversight, punishment, and purges.

A summons from that place was never an honor. It was a warning.

Li Fang studied the calligraphy on the parchment, fingertips brushing across the chilling strokes.

The game had finally been brought into the open.

—

On the day of departure to Youdu, the sky hung low with mist, heavy and suffocating.

Li Fang traveled alone, without attendants.

Along the way, he passed dead trees hung with torn yellow talismans, fluttering in the wind like voiceless cries.

In front of the gate to the Underworld stood a familiar figure—Liu Weizheng.

He wore a faint, knowing smile as he gave a courteous nod.

"Lord Li, this way, please."

—

The Left Division of Youdu.

The great hall loomed cold and imposing, filled with a silent menace.

Atop the dais sat an elder in a dark purple robe, face gaunt, a sinister black-red mark coiled between his brows like a poisonous serpent.

He was Wei Huai—the master of the Left Division, and the hidden fulcrum of power in the Underworld.

Wei Huai's gaze swept over Li Fang like a blade.

"The Laizhou blood calamity—Li Fang bears undeniable responsibility," he rasped.

"According to law: dismissal from office, three years of confinement, with further judgment to follow."

At his words, several Underworld enforcers in black armor stepped forward.

The tension in the hall snapped taut.

Li Fang remained unmoved. He cupped his hands in a formal salute.

"I am willing to submit to judgment."

He had never expected a fair trial.

This was a purge—a message to all who refused to fall in line.

Wei Huai's eyes narrowed. With a wave of his hand, the enforcers halted and stepped back.

From the side of the hall, another figure emerged.

He wore a silver mask and gray robes, his aura eerie and ice-cold.

His voice rasped like rust scraping stone:

"Li Fang, do you realize—if you align with the Left Division, ascension is but a step away?"

The silver-masked man's words slithered through the air like a serpent's whisper.

"Accept, and with a single bow, all glory shall be yours."

The grand hall became a gaping maw, waiting for him to step into its jaws.

Li Fang stood in silence.

He knew—if he said yes, he would become part of the Underworld's black tide, his achievements built on the blood and souls of innocents.

But if he refused, he would stand against the dominant power of the Underworld—cutting off every path behind him.

The air thickened like molten lead.

Li Fang slowly raised his head and spoke:

"My duty is to protect the people. If I must forswear that oath for promotion, then I, Li Fang, willingly face the Ninefold Thunder Tribulation."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word struck like iron upon stone, shaking the hall.

A flash of venom lit up Wei Huai's eyes. He flicked his sleeve with a cold snort.

"Stubborn fool. Then perish by your own hand."

The masked man gave a low grunt and retreated into the shadows.

Liu Weizheng stepped forward, expression blank.

"Take him to the Youming Platform. Further punishment awaits."

Li Fang was escorted from the hall and into the mist.

Shapes drifted in the fog—chains swaying, souls wailing.

The Youming Platform—Underworld's most feared prison. Few entered and left whole.

But Li Fang felt no fear.

His gaze pierced through the shroud of night, toward the deeper darkness beyond.

There, a far crueler and bloodier struggle was brewing.

And he—

He would not fall easily.

Never.