The Youming Platform

Cold.

Bone-piercing cold.

Li Fang awoke as though submerged in an ice cavern.

He found himself locked inside a narrow stone chamber.

The four walls were etched with dense, sinister runes that exuded a faint black mist.

Moisture oozed from the stone like cold sweat, and the air reeked of rot and blood.

Beyond the chamber, a long corridor stretched into darkness, where scattered whispers echoed like countless souls weeping at his ear.

This was the lowest level of the Youming Platform.

—

Li Fang sat cross-legged in silence, eyes closed, regulating his breath.

He didn't know how much time had passed when the stone door creaked open a crack.

A shadow slipped inside without a sound.

Li Fang opened his eyes to find a gaunt middle-aged man standing before him. He wore a tattered underworld robe, and a broken bronze token hung from his belt.

Expressionless, the man drew a small, oil-paper-wrapped tag from his sleeve and handed it to Li Fang.

In a low voice, he said:

"Someone sent me with a message—"

"—Lord Li, there's more than one kind of justice in this world."

Li Fang accepted the tag and carefully unwrapped it.

Scrawled unevenly on the paper were a few ominous lines:

[The black tide is coming. Even Youdu shall change hands.

If you wish to conspire together, come to the east wall of the prison at midnight.]

At the bottom was a strange symbol: an inverted scale.

Li Fang's brows twitched.

The inverted scale—emblem of the secret faction known as Chengque.

Since ancient times, Chengque had operated as an underground force in the Underworld, advocating for the overthrow of the current order and the rise of a so-called "New Netherworld."

Their methods were extreme. Ruthless. Merciless.

Li Fang had heard rumors, but never made direct contact.

Yet today, they had come to him.

—

Midnight.

The eastern wall of the Youming Platform.

Li Fang arrived as instructed.

At the base of the wall, a loose slate concealed a hidden passageway. With a light pry, it opened to reveal a narrow tunnel.

He inhaled deeply and slipped inside.

The path was cramped and winding, shrouded in darkness. The only sound was the drip of water, echoing like heartbeats in a tomb.

After what felt like an eternity, a dim light flickered ahead.

He emerged into a low, sealed chamber, its walls reinforced with thick black wood. The air buzzed with the heavy scent of talismans and curses.

At the center stood two figures.

One wore a half-silver mask, his robe stained and mottled like dried blood.

The other was an aged man with a dead-white left eye and a piercing right gaze.

They gave no names—only cold stares.

The silver-masked man spoke, voice hoarse:

"Li Fang, a wise man adapts to the times."

"The Left Division's dominance is fleeting. The real storm hasn't even begun."

The old man coughed twice and added:

"Join us."

"When the Underworld changes, you won't just keep your City God post—

You could be elevated to the Eight Departments, ranked among the High Lords of the Dead."

Li Fang remained silent, his gaze still and deep as a well.

After a pause, he asked coolly:

"And if I refuse?"

A cold glint flashed in the masked man's eyes.

"Then you become a discarded piece."

"Here in the Youming Platform, you'll die without a trace."

The air tightened like a drawn bow.

Li Fang chuckled softly, his tone laced with mockery.

"You think I fear death?"

He slowly raised his hand, revealing the oil-paper message. His voice turned icy:

"You dare recruit me, yet leave such a trail?"

With a flick of his sleeve—

A flash of cold light!

The paper burst into blue flame, vanishing into ash.

The silver-masked man and the elder's expressions twisted.

Li Fang turned his back on them, voice calm:

"If you want to use me—ask yourself first whether you're worthy."

With that, he stepped from the chamber without hesitation, his figure swallowed by the darkness.

—

On the way back to his stone cell, Li Fang's thoughts surged.

Chengque. The Left Division.

On the surface, opposing factions—but at their core, the same:

Both were willing to use the living and dead alike, paving their roads with blood.

One clung to the old order. The other sought to usurp it.

And he—was just a pawn in their grand game.

A glint of frost flickered in Li Fang's eyes.

If there's no way out—then I'll go against the current.

Let me die, or… let me shatter this filthy tide.

—

Even as Li Fang plotted in silence, deep within the Youming Platform, a new shadow stirred.

A force even more hidden. Even more secret.

And its target—

Was Li Fang.