Demon Sword Sect’s Undercover
Chapter 433 - 433 432 Shanyin Ghost Festival 3

433: Chapter 432 Shanyin Ghost Festival 3 433: Chapter 432 Shanyin Ghost Festival 3 Hou Niao was unlike those Ghost Messengers, he didn’t fix his direction because he wanted to complete his task as perfectly as possible, so he wandered through the wilderness with all his heart and soul, worried that among so many lost souls, there might be instances of them attacking and tearing at each other.

As it turned out, not a single accident happened, regardless of whether these souls were honest or ferocious, good or evil, strong or weak in their previous lives, their current state was the same—reminiscing about the past, mourning what once was.

Then, they honestly drifted along the massive stream of souls in one direction.

Several days had passed when Hou Niao saw a Horse-Face, still at a very close distance, but neither side had any desire for interaction, with no common interests whatsoever.

The Horse-Face had no need for him to convey anything from the Mortal World, and Hou Niao did not need such a friend.

Besides, who would want to be visited with chains in tow as if it were something to celebrate?

He also noticed the presence of cultivators from other Sects, but there was even less communication there, silently and deliberately avoiding each other, walking their own paths, following their own ways.

Regarding the purpose of participating in the Ghost Festival, there were no clear instructions from within the Sect, which is what made this mission so frustrating; how do you even begin, what counts as achieving perfection?

What is deemed satisfactory?

Or a failure?

There were no standards, nothing quantitative.

This was indeed the challenge for determining whether a cultivator from Sikong Mansion was competent, and not the kind of clearly-defined missions like infiltrating enemy territories to hunt a specific target—those were dangerous indeed, but lacked the opportunity for subjective initiative.

In his view, there were no more than three target groups in such an environment: Ghost Messengers and minions, human cultivators and demons, and the massive crowds of wandering souls.

Ghost Messengers and their minions—he did not wish to provoke, they were of no concern.

Human cultivators and demons—he could encounter them countless times in the Mortal World, so why cause trouble here?

And really, was it interesting to showcase the cunning and strife among humans in front of demons?

That left only the vast groups of wandering souls, souls that had been brought to the Underworld in the past twelve years, embarking on their next cycle of Reincarnation from this point on.

By his understanding, they were also the most helpless group, so what to do was unquestionable.

Even if up until now, he still hadn’t discovered any accidents among these soul groups.

He couldn’t possibly care for all the lost souls, only those within his sight and where his Dark Mane Horse could reach; this was the limit of his abilities.

In his philosophy, if he couldn’t help everyone, then he would help some; as long as he did his best, that was enough.

As for the main gathering place of the Ghost Festival, it was fine to arrive in the last few days, no need to go there early.

He despised such formalities—was it like judging characters?

With such a mindset, he rode the Dark Mane Horse, wandering on boundless land, watching the gathering and dispersing of lost souls, which after venting the obsessions in their hearts, set out on their journey back.

They would gather at the main venue of the Ghost Festival, perform some rituals, and then return underground.

After that, except for those souls who successfully underwent transformation and could begin cultivating, these souls would no longer have the chance to return to the Mortal World until one day in the future when they would be reincarnated and reborn as humans.

It was precisely because of his thoughts that he rarely encountered those Yin Officials from the Underworld or human cultivators; most people and ghosts had converged toward the central gathering place of the Ghost Festival, and the outskirts began to thin out.

Half the time had passed, and the sky faintly echoed with ghostly howls urging the souls to gather quickly.

Although there were still many who clung to their pasts reluctantly, eventually they succumbed to their Soul Body’s instincts, converging from all directions towards the center.

Riding the Dark Mane Horse, Hou Niao was one of them.

He noticed an anomaly, a cultivator approaching a group of souls.

A very strange cultivator, with cultivation not even reaching Tongxuan.

For someone at such a realm to have made it here, there could only be one possibility: he was exceptionally gifted in the ways of the Underworld.

Those gifted in Spirit Communication were rare, but they did exist.

He had been aware of this person’s presence for quite some time, as if he was looking for something.

Was he searching for his relatives?

Such obsession should not appear in a cultivator’s heart; with death, one’s existence is extinguished like a snuffed candle, and there should be a severance from the past.

The fact that they still cling to their memories shows just how close their relationship must have been in life.

Kin?

Hou Niao watched from a distance, not approaching, nor intending to help or interfere.

Not until the person finally found his target.

He charged into a group of lost souls, grabbed one of them, and hauled it out.

He threw it to the ground, beating and kicking, pouring fire and water…

Not a relative, but an enemy.

Crying and laughing, he indulged in a wanton release of his emotions, until finally, a blaze of fire was about to erase the existence of this lost soul.

He realized the flames were somewhat out of control, deflected by a flying sword.

Looking up, he saw a cultivator riding a black horse, slowly approaching him.

His voice was stern and fierce, “Why?

This person harmed my beloved wife!

Why stop me?

Is there no justice, even after coming to the Underworld?”

Hou Niao watched him quietly, “I just have a few words to say.

If, after I am done, you still insist on doing this, I won’t stop you.

Is that alright?”

The junior cultivator stopped, not because he had given up, but because he knew his own capabilities meant nothing in front of this cultivator.

Looking at the stubborn junior, Hou Niao sighed, “The truth is, whether it’s the Underworld or the Mortal World, there is no absolute justice—only the semblance of fairness underpinned by power.

Am I right?”

The junior cultivator remained silent, knowing this to be the truth, but unwilling to admit it.

Hou Niao continued, “This person, your enemy, is already dead!

As his soul disappeared from the Mortal World, this world no longer bears any trace of him.

Therefore, whether it’s the understanding of cultivation or the causality of the Mortal World, your grudge has effectively ended.

Once he arrived in the Underworld, he became another being; once he leaves the Underworld and drinks that soup, he becomes a new life.

You are killing another life!

This is not revenge, but misdirected anger!”

The junior cultivator still did not speak, clearly unwilling to accept such an explanation.

Hou Niao was not angered, “Well then, let’s talk practicalities.

You entered without a summons, which is a violation in itself.

Normally, you could just wait here until the Ghost Festival is over, but if you erase this lost soul now, you will not be able to stay here any longer, because you’ve broken the rules.

If I were you, I would choose to go find my wife first and then come back to kill this person.

Don’t you agree?”

This time, the junior cultivator finally spoke, “Really?”

Hou Niao smiled, “You can try for yourself, I won’t stop you.

But I think your mistake lies in choosing hate over love.

That is incorrect.”

The junior cultivator bowed deeply and turned to dash away.

The grateful lost soul thanked him profusely, “Thank you, Immortal, for your Bodhisattva-like compassion.

You will surely be blessed!”

Hou Niao shook his head, sincerely stating, “I am no Bodhisattva, and my heart is not that kind; I seek no fortune in return.

If I were him, I wouldn’t kill you.

I’d only leave a mark on you.

Each time you reincarnate, I’d slay you once, condemning you to forever be a ghost, never to turn over a new leaf!”