Undercurrent

Li Fang sat in the stone cell of the Youming Platform, his back against the icy wall, fingers gently stroking a small hidden clasp sewn into his sleeve.

A tiny, inconspicuous object.

His final lifeline.

Outside the cell, the ever-burning lamp flickered dimly. Shadows danced along the corridor, and from time to time came the sound of hoarse weeping—like resentful souls crawling out of the earth in the dead of night.

—

Late at night.

The stone door creaked open.

A low-ranking underworld guard slipped in, panic in his eyes. After glancing around nervously, he leaned in and whispered:

"Lord Li, someone… someone's come to save you."

He pulled a letter sealed in black wax from his robe and handed it over with trembling hands.

Li Fang accepted it and lowered his gaze.

Just a few lines were written on the paper:

[Third quarter of the hour of the Rat.

Hidden well, north side of the Youming Platform.

Don't be late.

—Dizang Division]

The Dizang Division—an ostensibly neutral branch of the underworld tasked with overseeing stray spirits and dissipating chaotic energies. Officially, they stayed out of factional conflict, but in these chaotic times, who could truly remain untouched?

A faint smirk tugged at Li Fang's lips.

He rose slowly, concealed the letter, and calmly sat back down, sinking once more into the darkness to wait.

—

Third quarter of the Rat hour.

North side of the Youming Platform. The wind was like knives.

At a shadowy corner beneath a loose well cover, Li Fang emerged quietly.

Three figures were already waiting.

The leader wore a gray robe and mask, his voice muffled and hoarse:

"Lord Li, grievances overflow, blood disasters run rampant. The Underworld is in disarray—order is collapsing."

"The Left Division and Chengque are nothing but gangs of madmen fighting for control."

"We're here to ask for your help."

Li Fang said nothing. The wind cut across his face like invisible blades.

The gray-robed man continued:

"We know you hold clues to the Laizhou blood disaster. And we also know—"

He paused, as if choking back something deeper:

"—that the true sin… lies within the Youming Platform itself."

"If we can expose it, we can ignite the rot at the very heart of the Underworld."

Li Fang's eyes lifted, a faint cold gleam flashing in them.

The man wasted no more words. He threw out the final bait:

"Tomorrow night, the high ranks of the Left Division, Chengque, and the Dizang Division will meet in secret right here at the Youming Platform. They plan to divide the spoils of the Laizhou disaster."

"We can sneak you in."

"All you need to do is—reveal the truth."

Li Fang stared into the masked man's eyes, as though trying to peel back the layers and read the hidden agenda beneath.

After a long silence, he gave a faint smile and said evenly:

"Very well."

—

Back in his cell, Li Fang leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

His mind was already weaving the next steps.

Whether it was the Dizang Division, the Left Division, or Chengque—none of them were saviors.

They only wanted to use him. A pawn to pry open the painted-over corruption festering in the underworld.

But Li Fang understood:

Only by seizing the chance to expose the filth himself… could he survive.

And survive with dignity.

—

Midnight passed.

The next day.

The skies above the Youming Platform were suddenly choked with thick clouds, and even the eternal ghost fires burned dim and sickly.

It was as if the entire underworld could sense the tremors of something about to erupt.

In the distance, hushed voices muttered:

"Did you hear? A secret meeting's happening at the Youming Platform tomorrow night—all the major players will be there…"

"Secret meeting? More like a feast of vultures."

"They say there's crucial evidence that's going to be destroyed on the spot!"

Fear, greed, and unease seeped through the gossip like poison.

And deep in the heart of the Youming Platform, in a sealed chamber, a bloodstained desk held a single, tattered page.

The true origin of the Laizhou blood disaster.

A withered hand slowly brushed over the parchment, and a hoarse voice murmured:

"Blood debts… must be repaid with blood."

"After tomorrow, the old order of the Underworld—will be no more."