Bound by Blood - Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Seven hundred years of Meng Po Soup, as it turns out, was never meant to make people forget.
Heaven’s Mandate is linked to the Reincarnation Platform.
To destroy the platform, one must first destroy the soup.
When this thought surfaced, even I was momentarily stunned.
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
Meng Po Soup was never just ordinary water of oblivion. With the River of Forgetfulness Water as its base, the Rebirth Flower as its medicine, and the karma of the Underworld as its fire, every ladleful brewed did not wash away memories, but the soul’s obsession with the past. Without it, reincarnation could still turn, of course; it just wouldn’t be quite so “obedient.”
Who should forget and how much they should forget would no longer be decided by the ledger of fate.
I looked at the worn soup ladle in my hand and suddenly smiled.
Siming likely realized this as well, for his expression changed instantly. “Stop her!”
Unfortunately, it was too late.
I slammed the ladle into the formation eye at the center of the Reincarnation Platform.
That ladle had accompanied me in brewing soup for seven hundred years and was long since saturated with the essence of Meng Po Soup. The moment it touched the formation eye, the entire Reincarnation Platform shuddered. The River of Forgetfulness Water surged backward with a roar, and countless plumes of white mist erupted from beneath the platform. Those were the old dreams, old loves, and old hatreds washed away by Meng Po Soup over seven hundred years. They had originally been sunk in the deepest depths of reincarnation, but now, I had churned them up with a single ladle.
The first to be affected were the new souls on the bridge.
One by one, they clutched their heads as memories of their past lives came rushing back like a tidal wave. Someone suddenly remembered the mother they hadn’t seen before they died; someone else realized they had actually been framed; some fell to the ground wailing, while others ran back like madmen.
The Underworld was instantly thrown into total chaos.
The Ghost Officers shouted in panic, “The bridge is breaking! The soup is flowing backward!”
The veins on the King of Hell’s forehead pulsed, but he didn’t come to stop me immediately. Instead, he raised his hand to protect the outermost Reincarnation Well to prevent the entire Underworld from truly collapsing.
Siming, however, had already been consumed by killing intent.
He rose into the air, and nine golden seals flew from his sleeves, heading straight for me and Xie Wujiu. Those were the Seals of Heaven’s Mandate. One seal could suppress one lifetime. If all of them fell, the bitter tribulations of Xie Wujiu’s nine lives would backfire simultaneously in an instant, leaving not even a fragment of his soul behind.
Before I could move, Xie Wujiu stepped in front of me, shielding me.
The seals slammed into his back. I heard the sound of his soul-bones cracking, and my entire body froze.
“Xie Wujiu!”
He knelt on one knee and wiped the corner of his mouth. His fingertips were stained crimson, yet his first instinct was to look at me. “Are you alright?”
My tears fell instantly.
Even at a time like this, that was what he asked.
How had I been so blind before to think this man would be the first to run away?
Siming was about to strike again when, suddenly, a Judge’s Brush streaked through the air, forcefully knocking his seals aside.
It was Cui Jue.
He landed by the edge of the platform, his robes fluttering loudly in the wind. Usually a sickly-looking man, he now possessed a rare, sharp killing intent.
“Lord Siming,” he said coldly, “I have checked the Book of Reincarnation. After nine lifetimes of punishment, Xie Wujiu should have been pardoned. The order to execute him in his tenth life was a private alteration you made to the celestial decree.”
Siming narrowed his eyes. “You dare investigate me?”
“I didn’t just investigate you.” Cui Jue flicked his sleeve, and his Judge’s Ledger unfurled in mid-air, hundreds of pages flipping rapidly. “Over the years, a total of three thousand seven hundred and forty-two souls in the Underworld’s Rebirth Ledger have been altered. Some who deserved a peaceful end did not receive one; some who should have paid with their lives were reborn into wealth. All these changes eventually flowed into the same place.”
He raised a hand and pointed toward the sky.
“The Destiny Plate.”
The entire Underworld erupted in an uproar.
The King of Hell’s expression finally shifted. “Siming, is this true?”
Siming suddenly laughed.
“So what if it is?” He looked at us, his eyes showing unabashed contempt for the first time. “All living beings in the Three Realms were born to stabilize Heaven’s Mandate. What is wrong with taking the lives of a few people to patch the plate? Is it really necessary to let every common soul have their way?”
As soon as those words were spoken, even the Ghost Officers didn’t dare to breathe.
But I suddenly wasn’t afraid anymore.
Because I finally saw clearly that this high-and-mighty Celestial Official didn’t view anyone as a human being in his very core.
I wiped away my tears and helped Xie Wujiu stand up.
“You’re right,” I said to Siming. “The masses might not always get what they want.”
“But at the very least, they shouldn’t live as kindling in your hands.”
With that, I struck the formation eye with my palm.
The backflowing Meng Po Soup exploded with a roar, and white mist filled the sky, instantly swallowing the entire Reincarnation Platform.
Everyone standing in the mist was forced to see the one memory they were most unwilling to recall.
I saw Siming’s face turn pale for the first time.
Because he saw it too.
He saw how he had altered the fates of others, stroke by stroke, just to stabilize that wretched Destiny Plate.
He saw how he had watched coldly, even lending a hand, despite knowing that Xie Wujiu shouldn’t die and I shouldn’t be sacrificed.
What he feared most was never our resistance.
It was the fact that he himself knew that what he had done could never see the light of day.
In the white mist, the voices of countless old souls layered upon one another.
“Give me back my life.”
“My son died a wrongful death.”
“I clearly never committed any evil.”
“Why was it me?”
That wasn’t the vengeful spirits seeking a life; it was the altered fates coming to settle the score.
Siming finally couldn’t hold on any longer and suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood.
He took a step back and looked up at the sky as if seeking reinforcements. But tonight, the mist in the Underworld was heavy, and the Destiny Plate had been thrown into chaos by the reversed soup. The light from above couldn’t shine through at all.
For the first time, he became the one who was isolated and without help.
I gripped my soup ladle and walked toward him step by step.
“Siming,” I said, “aren’t you the best at writing fates?”
“Then today, I’ll write a stroke for you as well.”
