Chapter 136 — Soul Summoning

As if unable to withstand that grim ghostly power, the pale golden light of the Hehuan Bell gradually dimmed and was swallowed amid the countless specters. After a brief moment, with a sharp sound, a wisp of pale smoke slowly rose above the bell—faint and indistinct, now broken, now continuous, drifting above it, though its latter half seemed still to remain within the bell.

The shaman's face, no one knew why, suddenly took on a faint flush, healthier in appearance than a moment before. Even his sweeping arms seemed to have gained strength.

A flicker of joy crossed his aged face, and he cried out in a loud voice:

"Ha!

The lingering soul leaves the body;

The nine souls return.

Through the Yellow Springs and the Nine Shades,

By summoning are they drawn!"

These four lines of incantation the shaman cried with full-throated vigor, awe-inspiring in their force. As his voice rang out, the red light burst apart with a roar and in an instant flooded the entire stone chamber. Hades and Mingli felt another thunderous shock around them, and once more that void, grim, lightless sensation of standing in the Nine Shades of the underworld came over them—except that now the air was filled with ghostly wailing, and countless spirits and specters careened wildly through the air.

"Boom!"

Without pausing even an instant, unstoppable as lightning across the sky, before the two of them could collect themselves, the scene around them reverted once more to the stone chamber. Within that crimson demonic veil, as countless ghosts whirled and flew, around the wisp of smoke above the Hehuan Bell, attended by a host of specters, one wisp of pale smoke after another slowly took shape.

One, two, three… eight, nine!

Three souls and seven spirits—such is the soul!

Mingli's whole body trembled. His fingernails dug deep into his flesh until blood ran, and he did not know it at all. Within that crimson curtain of light, those wisps of smoke…

He turned his head and looked toward the shaman.

Just a moment!

Just one moment was all he needed!

He could not help but roar it in his heart!

The flush on the shaman's face suddenly receded like a tide. The corners of his eyes, ringed by deep wrinkles, began to twitch.

Those withered hands sweeping in the air began once more to tremble. Only his voice remained clear and strong:

"Three souls and seven spirits,

Gather the spirits into one divine whole.

Join the divine and search out every spirit,

And make them one!"

As his words fell, the nine wisps of pale smoke that had appeared one after another in midair flew out from the throng of ghostly spirits and drifted slowly toward the Bell of Union and Joy, gradually merging into one with the wisp of smoke upon the bell.

Dimly, faintly, human forms began to take shape.

At that moment, not only Ming Li but even the King of the Underworld could not keep his body from trembling, his face alight with excitement.

No one knew when it had begun, but the color had drained once more from the shaman's face, and his hands shook more violently than ever. Amid the crimson glow he opened his mouth and cried aloud:

"The souls are formed—

let all spirits return to their places.

O spirits, enter..."

The final word, "the body," lingered in his throat, poised on the very edge of utterance—and then the shaman's voice suddenly went mute, and what came forth was only a faint, low hiss.

The faces of the King of the Underworld and Ming Li changed at the same instant. Within the soul-summoning formation the red light shook violently, then burst forth in a thunderous roar; the crimson radiance scattered, and countless ghostly creatures surged skyward, plunging in swarms into the stone walls and the earth below, vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye. But how could the King of the Underworld and Ming Li spare a thought for any of that? Through the swirling chaos, their eyes flew straight to the shaman.

The old man's hands were still raised high in midair, but his head was slowly sinking.

Ming Li and the King of the Underworld shot to the shaman's side like lightning and caught hold of his body, yet still his head sank slowly, inexorably downward. Only in his mouth did he seem still to struggle to say something.

The King of the Underworld and Ming Li pressed desperately close to the shaman, and amid those sounds, already thick and indistinct, they could catch only a few broken fragments:

"Mm... the Nine Nether... mm-mm... the utmost yin... mm... not... this..."

The voice sank lower and lower into silence, and at last the old man's head dropped to his chest, and he spoke no more.

A chill pierced to the bone, as though they stood in the deepest icy hell of the underworld. The two men stood woodenly, staring at it all in disbelief.

The scattering red radiance faded away, and the surging river of blood grew still. The blood-traced lines, drained of their power, could no longer hold the fresh blood in check, and it flowed bright and wet across the ground.

The pale smoke upon the Bell of Union and Joy was drawn back in as a great whale draws water, vanishing into the bell. A faint golden light welled up once more, setting the bell off in dazzling brilliance.

With a gentle sway and a clear, ringing chime, the Bell of Union and Joy slowly descended and returned to the hands of Bi Li, who lay upon the cold ice-jade platform, as quiet as before.

A deathlike stillness spread through the ice-jade chamber, lingering long and refusing to disperse, until there was not the slightest sound left at all...