Chapter 237

Ever since Yun Jiao finalized the Xuanmen Ten-Year Development Plan—to raise cultivation standards and promote nationwide education—her life had finally become peaceful again. Other than teaching two or three classes a week at the Celestial Master Hall, she had little else to do.

With the fall of the Southern Heavenly Emperor, the Celestial Realm had also quieted down. They were likely too busy carving up what was left of the Southern Heaven’s power to bother plotting against the Xuanmen. The Human Realm, for once, enjoyed a rare period of peace.

Even the number of missions the Celestial Master Hall received was decreasing. Recently, Hall Master Xu had even complained to her that disciples no longer had enough real-combat experience. He asked her to think of ways to help them improve their practical skills.

As a result—and after the old man took on the role of acting Yama—he enthusiastically helped by occasionally sending ghost messengers or lesser ghost kings to “assist” with on-site combat lessons.

The old man had quickly become the most popular teacher in the Celestial Master Hall. His involvement even sparked the interest of the Spirit King, who began sending a few monster souls to join the fun. The result? Whether human disciple or ghostly envoy, everyone’s cultivation improved. Before long, even other Yamas started joining in.

The Hall soon established a so-called “Interrealm Friendship Duel Platform.” A ring was set up in the Celestial Master Hall, where both humans and spirits could challenge each other. Communication between the two realms became incredibly lively—nowadays, if a Xuanmen student didn’t know a few ghost messengers personally, they were practically considered untrained!

By the time Yun Jiao found out, ghost envoys from various underworlds were already freely roaming the academy, “visiting” on their off-duty days. She didn’t stop it, of course—she only reminded the old man that it was time to start selling those stacks of talismans that concealed yin energy. With all the students needing them, they’d sell out instantly.

That night, Yun Jiao sat down to tally the past six months of income. The numbers made her beam with satisfaction. At this rate—and assuming inflation stayed stable—she could probably live comfortably for decades.

If only… someone didn’t insist on staying in her room every night.

Yun Jiao turned her head. Beside her sat a certain someone, nibbling on a cookie while stealthily inching closer to take her hand. She sighed. “Patriarch, it’s late.”

“Mm.” His answer was serious—but his fingers quietly slid between hers, one by one, until their hands were interlocked.

“It’s time to sleep,” she reminded again.

“I don’t need sleep,” he said calmly.

“…” Yun Jiao’s mouth twitched. You might not need it, but I do!

And seriously—was it appropriate for him not to return to his tower this late every night?!

She looked at him again—this man who seemed determined to skip the “talking” part of “talking about love,” and was clearly eager to leap straight to the final stage—and drew a deep breath, ready to lecture him on the philosophy of relationships.

But suddenly, a wave of strong yin energy surged in from outside. A familiar voice called out, “Junior Sister Yun! Can you help me with—”

Xi Teng burst into the room, clearly in a hurry. The moment he saw the cold-faced man sitting beside her, his words froze in his throat. After a stunned pause, he instinctively clasped his hands and bowed. “Greetings, Patriarch.”

Ye Yuan didn’t reply. He merely radiated more chill—and Xi Teng could’ve sworn he felt a faint trace of killing intent.

No, no, that must have been his imagination. Surely there was a good reason the Patriarch was here in Yun Jiao’s room this late—and sitting so very close on the same chair. After all, he’d grown up being told that the Patriarch was unfathomably powerful. Whatever he was doing must have profound meaning.

Yes. Definitely.

“Senior Brother Xi Teng!” Yun Jiao was surprised. Since the underworld and the mortal realm had opposite schedules, anyone from below usually sent her a message during the day first. For him to show up without warning—something must have happened. “Did something go wrong?”

She withdrew her hand from Ye Yuan’s grasp and stood up to pour tea for Xi Teng.

The room seemed to grow even colder, but Xi Teng—blissfully unaware—accepted the cup and sat down. “It’s urgent,” he said anxiously. “A brother from my underworld division has gone missing. His friends said that three days ago, he heard about a dueling platform in the human realm where spirits could spar with cultivators. Curious, he came here. But it’s been three days, and he still hasn’t returned.”

“There is such a platform,” Yun Jiao nodded. “That’s the one the old man and the others organized. But the duels only open every seven days. If he came three days ago, he probably just hasn’t competed yet—he’s likely still at the Celestial Master Hall.”

“I heard that too,” Xi Teng said, his expression tightening further. “But yesterday, the disciple in charge of guarding the soul lamps said that this brother’s lamp suddenly flickered—its light was fading, almost extinguished!”

“What?!” Yun Jiao’s face changed. The soul lamps of spirits were different from those of the living. When a mortal’s lamp went out, it meant death—but when a spirit’s lamp extinguished, it meant complete annihilation—soul scattered, existence erased.

“He must be in danger,” Xi Teng said urgently. “So my master sent me up here to find him. We’ve been unable to contact him at all. Junior Sister Yun, you have many connections in the Xuanmen—can you help me find where he is?”

“All right. What’s his name?”

“Luo Kaiyuan.”

Yun Jiao immediately took out a transmission talisman. She first contacted the elder in charge of the dueling arena, then sent a message through the academy’s group network, asking if anyone had seen a spirit named Luo Kaiyuan.

But strangely, no one had heard of him. Even the elder overseeing the boundary gates personally checked the entry records—there was no trace of that name.

“That’s impossible!” Xi Teng was shocked. “Several brothers saw him cross the gate into the human realm. How could he not have gone to the Celestial Master Hall?”

“The Hall’s records wouldn’t be wrong,” Yun Jiao said after a moment’s thought. “There are only two possibilities. Either he used an alias… or he never arrived there at all.” She actually suspected the latter. The boundary gates were personally opened by the Yamas, and each side was guarded by ghost judges with life-and-death records in hand. Hiding one’s identity was nearly impossible.

Xi Teng’s worry deepened. “Then what do we do?”

“I’ll ask the other sects to help search,” Yun Jiao said, sending out new messages to every sect leader, explaining that a spirit from the underworld had gone missing.

Since the human and underworld realms had only recently established official relations, the matter immediately drew serious attention. Even the sect leaders who had been woken in the middle of the night got up at once, vowing to alert their disciples and begin searching—for the missing soul.

As Yun Jiao and Xi Teng waited for updates, she decided to ask more about this Luo Kaiyuan’s background—

But before she could speak, her transmission talisman suddenly flickered, and a timid, hesitant voice came through:

“Master Yun… are you there?”

Yun Jiao: “…”

What in the world—was this person messaging her on QQ?

(End of Chapter)