Chapter Nineteen: Lord Fluffball

Jiang Pingchuan gazed at the space before him. This was his second time here, and the feeling was quite different from his first visit. Amidst an endless snowy white world stood a single green vine tree.

From a distance, the green vine tree seemed familiar. At its roots, it appeared as if it had been scorched by fierce flames. Seeing the burn marks, Jiang Pingchuan recalled the greenwood tree at the entrance of the scripture pavilion.

The smooth trunk of the greenwood tree was covered in charred bark. He’d glanced at it when he arrived—the roaring fire still burned, its intensity undiminished. Guilt pricked Jiang Pingchuan’s heart. He resolved that, once he left, he must find a way to extinguish those flames.

"Pingchuan, you’ve come," called the elder’s voice from beneath the distant green vine tree. Jiang Pingchuan knew this was not his ancestral master, yet the old man’s voice filled him with warmth. He responded, only to find himself already standing before the elder.

He looked down at his feet. He remembered clearly that he’d been far from the old man, but merely thinking of approaching him had caused his body to inexplicably teleport right before him.

"Senior," Jiang Pingchuan called softly, gazing at the elder’s now faint and ethereal figure.

"Pingchuan, your cultivation from now on depends on wandering. Countless mountains, ancient realms, ghosts and spirits, monsters and demons—what you know and do not know will cross your path. Temptations abound. Remember: do not stray from the heart of your Dao."

The elder, his hand insubstantial and illusory, gently stroked Jiang Pingchuan’s hair, which now reached his waist. Though the touch was ghostly, the sensation was real. Jiang Pingchuan nodded, murmured agreement, and felt the hand vanish from his hair. When he looked up, the elder was gone.

"Senior, Senior!" Jiang Pingchuan called urgently. Had he forgotten to remind the elder to pass on the inheritance? Now the old man had disappeared, and the promised transmission through his brow was left unresolved. After all, Jiang Pingchuan couldn’t even see a trace of a ghost.

He felt the fish-shaped jade pendant at his waist tremble faintly. Picking it up, he examined it closely. Once crystal clear, the pendant’s fish eye now flickered with a deep red glow.

Jiang Pingchuan remembered how, during his dream when he sank to the bottom of the Lake of Immortal Transformation, he always felt a pair of sinister red eyes watching. Now, he realized those eyes probably belonged to the elder, and the inheritance wasn’t given to him directly, but to the jade pendant—a pendant that now possessed sentience.

Rehanging the pendant at his waist, Jiang Pingchuan surveyed the vast whiteness surrounding him. He wondered where this so-called Nether Spirit Pavilion was. Furball was still suffering there. Every time Jiang Pingchuan thought of Furball’s emaciated, abused state, guilt welled in his heart.

He wanted to find Furball, but he was trapped, endlessly wandering in this space, unable to leave. Forget searching for Furball; even seeing any color besides white and green seemed impossible.

After several rounds with no exit found, Jiang Pingchuan returned to the green vine tree and sat cross-legged, pondering. Suddenly, he slapped his forehead in sudden realization. If he could teleport to the elder just now, why couldn’t he teleport to the Nether Spirit Pavilion?

With this thought, Jiang Pingchuan silently recited "Nether Spirit Pavilion" in his heart, concentrating on his desire to go there. Yet more embarrassment followed.

He tried countless times. When he braced himself to face those soul-reaping envoys, he opened his eyes only to see the green vine tree, every time.

He couldn’t understand why his body felt as though it moved, yet he remained in place. Only the scenery changed, from endless white to the green vine tree.

Puzzled, Jiang Pingchuan stared at the tree. He envisioned himself at the Nether Spirit Pavilion, but always appeared before the vine tree.

He stood and circled the tree, finding nothing amiss. He stopped, letting silver light fill his eyes. This light had once been pale gold, but since the transparent Dao crystal appeared within him, the hue shifted. Fortunately, the ability remained undiminished.

Jiang Pingchuan’s eyes glowed silver as he studied the green vine tree. Still, nothing was revealed. He drew a circle with his foot and sprinted rapidly in one direction.

After some time running, he stopped and meditated again on the Nether Spirit Pavilion. When he opened his eyes, the vine tree was still there. Now he was certain: the passage to leave and reach the Pavilion lay within this tree.

He placed his palm on the trunk, sensing deeply. Instead of a refreshing flow, he felt endless heat and the scent of blood—a familiar smell, the very essence of the Nether Spirit Pavilion.

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Jiang Pingchuan immediately pressed both hands tightly against the trunk, feeling the intensified aura of slaughter, meditating on the Pavilion. A cold wind blew across his face. Joy surged in his heart, and when he opened his eyes, the Nether Spirit Pavilion appeared before him.

At its entrance, two dark red stone pillars were studded with countless white bones. Before it flowed a moat of bubbling magma, flames roaring skyward, casting an eerie glow over the Pavilion and deepening its sinister mystery.

Jiang Pingchuan glanced behind him. His silver eyes reflected an endless graveyard. Terrifyingly, every grave marker’s inscription was shattered, and each mound sported a dark hole, as if the sleeping souls within had clawed their way out for a breath of air, personally tearing open their own graves.

He silently recited a scripture to steady his heart, then strode toward the Pavilion. Standing before its black doors, he faintly heard a swaggering voice—unfamiliar, yet tinged with Furball’s flavor, insolent as ever.

Hearing Furball’s loud shouts, Jiang Pingchuan’s guilt deepened. He didn’t know what state his old friend would be in after he pushed open the door.

He saw the skulls on the door glare, their eyes shooting eerie red flames. Swallowing hard, Jiang Pingchuan steeled himself and pushed the door open. A gust of cold wind greeted him.

"Creeeeak..."

"Come, come, drink till you drop, drink till you drop! What a fine dance, hahaha..."

As he entered, Jiang Pingchuan did not see Furball strung up on a pillar, suffering the whip or torture. None of that. Instead, Furball, plump as ever, lounged on a dark red chair.

Beside Furball’s chair was another blood-red seat, radiating a thick aura of slaughter. The back was carved with a huge skull, and the base featured nine dragons, their faces twisted with pain, seemingly crushed by the skull above.

Furball’s chair sat next to this one, its back carved with a large tiger’s head. Jiang Pingchuan noticed that, instead of the usual "king" character on the tiger’s brow, there was a mischievous little bird.

Jiang Pingchuan stood behind a crowd of dancing ghosts, watching Furball on his chair, joyfully drinking with several dark-robed figures. How those people tolerated Furball, he couldn’t imagine.

On the table before Furball sat a basin. Whenever Furball yelled for a toast, those shadowy figures painfully drained their cups of liquor.

Furball, meanwhile, merely licked the basin, savoring the moment, reclining in his chair, his red eyes ogling the dozens of dancing ghost maidens.

Jiang Pingchuan noticed these ghost maidens were all seductively built, their dances alluring, the black gauze barely concealing their bodies, fair faces and crimson lips brimming with charm.

Yet he had no mood to appreciate the beauty. All the dancers’ feet floated above the ground, and Jiang Pingchuan shivered, standing still, peering past them at Furball on his throne.

"Furball..."

"Eh... Who’s calling me... Eh... Nether Elder, you’ve got guts to address me by my new name..."

Furball, belly bulging, looked at the elder beside him. Jiang Pingchuan recognized the Nether Elder as the one who had trapped him in that strange space and tormented him. The realization made Jiang Pingchuan suddenly feel he’d been played by Furball.

"Eh... Furball Boss... I wouldn’t dare... It’s him..."

With innocent eyes, the Nether Elder pointed his bony finger at Jiang Pingchuan, peering anxiously from behind the dancers.

After speaking, his gaze became vacant, eyes wide with panic, his ghostly face filled with disbelief. Furball followed the direction of his finger, stumbled, quickly closed his eyes, and feigned death in his chair.

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"You may all leave now..."

The Nether Elder stood and waved to the dancers below. They ceased their movements, bowed to the stage, and slowly retreated to the inner hall.

In the great hall, only the Nether Elder, Furball, and the furious Jiang Pingchuan remained. With embarrassment tinging his pale face, the elder waved to Jiang Pingchuan and shrank back, disappearing into the rear chamber.

"Hey... Nether Elder... Is that guy gone yet... Hey... Nether Elder... Say something!"

Furball, sprawled in his chair, called out. Jiang Pingchuan stood before him, gazing at the plump creature. Seeing Furball so nervous upon his arrival, Jiang Pingchuan felt a pang—so Furball never truly wanted to follow him, which was why he hid.

"The elder’s gone. Furball, since you don’t want to follow me, I won’t force you. Farewell."

Jiang Pingchuan’s voice was calm. He turned and walked toward the Pavilion’s door, not looking back. He would not compel anyone, not even a cat.

Suddenly, he felt his body grow heavy, something grasping his ankle. Looking down, Jiang Pingchuan saw Furball clutching his ankle tightly, red eyes shimmering with tears, his face full of grievance.

"Kid, you really came back for me! I’m so happy. Don’t leave, stay and keep me company," Furball said earnestly.

"Furball, I won’t stay here. You’re my friend, which is why I sought a way to find you as soon as I understood. Now that I see you’re safe, I should go. I’m busy. Until we meet again."

Jiang Pingchuan crouched, pried Furball’s paws from his ankle, shook his head with sorrow, and looked away from the cat.

"Hmph... Fine... If you won’t appreciate it... Then I’ll go with you..."

Jiang Pingchuan stared in disbelief at the smiling Furball on the floor. He couldn’t understand why Furball would leave. It was clear Furball’s status was extraordinary—even the Nether Elder bowed and scraped before him.

Following Jiang Pingchuan would mean abandoning a life of luxury. He couldn’t fathom what would compel this fat cat to forsake riches for wandering.

"Furball, are you really willing to give up your comfortable life here and accompany me across myriad worlds to search for my parents?" Jiang Pingchuan asked uncertainly.

"Heh, kid, you don’t get it. Back then, I too wandered... cough, cough... Enough about that. Teaming up to go adventuring isn’t bad. If I stay here any longer, I’ll suffocate."

Furball leapt into Jiang Pingchuan’s arms, nearly knocking him over with his weight. In the years since they’d parted, Furball had grown even heavier. He slapped Jiang Pingchuan’s shoulder with his paw and glanced back at the rear hall.

"Nether Elder, I’m heading out with young Jiang. Tell those fools to behave themselves," Furball snorted, nudging the dazed Jiang Pingchuan with his fat head, signaling him to leave.

Watching Jiang Pingchuan carry Furball out of the Pavilion, the Nether Elder emerged from the rear chamber, eyes complicated, staring at their backs.

Now that Lord Red Cloud Tiger had become dull and forgetful, with broken memories, he could hardly blame Jiang Pingchuan for knowing nothing. Sighing, the elder faded into the darkness.

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