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Master of Yin-Yang
8: Arrival at the Underworld

8: Arrival at the Underworld

The young girl's face was pale, lips tinged with purple, dark circles under her eyes, and her irises pitch black. She bore an uncanny resemblance to the upright female corpse we fished out of the river earlier that day.

"I'm so cold, help me!" After uttering these words, the young girl began to sob softly.

As I gazed at this ethereal young figure, the scene before me blurred. My neck tilted, eyes closed, and I fainted.

When I woke up again, it was already half-past six in the morning. My bed was soaked, emitting a pungent odor of urine. I hadn't wet the bed since I could remember.

My current state was worse than yesterday. Looking at myself in the mirror, I noticed my pale complexion, bluish lips and eye circles, dull and bloodshot eyes, and a complete lack of strength.

Closing my eyes, the vivid image of the bizarre scene from last night resurfaced. A ghostly young girl appearing in the center of my room, pleading for help. It felt like a dream, yet the details remained vividly etched in my mind.

"I might have truly encountered something sinister," I muttered to myself, a deep sense of fear gripping my heart.

I roamed through the three rooms of our house. The lights were still on, doors and windows locked, and the water stains on the floor had disappeared. My dad hadn't returned home all night.

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Initially, I intended to clean the wet bedding, but my strength had deserted me. The fatigue spread all over my body.

I changed into clean clothes, pulling out the money I had stashed in my pocket. A business card fell to the floor. Bending down to pick it up, I hesitated. Should I go and find this Chen Yuanshan? Recalling his unconventional appearance, he didn't fit the image of a conventional Taoist. Yet, everything he said yesterday seemed to manifest in my current condition. First, the misfortune of losing my phone and money, and now, feeling unwell—head heavy, limbs weak, and my body fluctuating between chills and fever.

Leaving home, I hopped on my electric scooter towards our town. Upon reaching the town, I parked the scooter by the bank, removed the key, and slipped it into my left pocket.

"Hey, take me to Yuanbao District," I hopped into a taxi parked nearby, informing the young driver. At the same time, I showed him Chen Yuanshan's address.

The driver didn't say much, just nodded, and drove towards Yuanbao District. As we approached the destination, I leaned against the passenger door, closed my eyes, and dozed off again.

"Young man, we've arrived." After an unknown amount of time, the driver gently tapped my shoulder, waking me up.

Opening my eyes, I found myself on an ancient street. The houses on either side resembled Ming and Qing dynasty architecture, white walls, blue tiles, red-painted columns at the door. A faint white mist enveloped my surroundings. Next to the driver's side, there was an ancient building filled with dozens of wooden coffins painted with red lacquer. Some laid horizontally, others vertically. Inside the building, a person dressed in a gray robe, reaching the ankle, wore an old-fashioned pair of white-bottomed black cloth shoes. The man sported the unique Qing dynasty hairstyle, half bald and half with a long braid tied at the back. He appeared to be in his sixties, tall and thin.

This attire was something I had only seen in TV shows and movies. It was surreal to witness it in reality.