110: Chapter 110 Nine-Star Meng Po!

Tianyuan Arena, Winner's Bracket Rest Area, Rest Room No. 019.

Su Bai sat cross-legged on the sofa, his consciousness sinking into the Netherworld World.

At the world core, the ring-shaped phantom formed by countless points of light was slowly rotating. The formation progress of the Six Paths of Reincarnation had halted at 65%; it would take another three days to complete.

Three days was too long.

He couldn't wait.

Su Bai raised his hand, his consciousness linking with the world core.

[Creatable Hero Unit: Meng Po]

[Prompt: Bridge of Helplessness has been built. Creation is possible.]

[Power Of Faith Cost: 50,000 points]

[Current Power Of Faith: 118,111 points]

[Confirm Creation?]

Fifty thousand points.

Su Bai did not hesitate.

[Confirmed Creation: Meng Po]

[Power Of Faith Consumed: 50,000 points]

[Remaining Power Of Faith: 68,111 points]

The Underworld Space began to tremble.

This tremor was different from any before. It wasn't the roar of a building rising from the ground, nor the cracking of expanding land. It was something older, more profound, awakening.

At the head of the Bridge of Helplessness, within Meng Po's Pavilion.

The large cauldron, which had always been empty, suddenly began to vibrate. The three ancient characters 'Meng Po Soup' carved on its body erupted with an indigo-blue light. The light spread along the cauldron's patterns, covering the entire Meng Po's Pavilion, climbing onto the Bridge of Helplessness's railings, onto the surface of the Three-Life Stone, onto the steps of the Wangxiang Platform.

The waters of the River of Oblivion began to boil.

The lonely ghosts and wild souls who had struggled in the river waters for who knows how many years all suddenly fell silent. They raised their heads, their hollow eyes gazing in the direction of Meng Po's Pavilion, as if waiting for something.

They had waited a long time.

Since the day the River of Oblivion was born, they had waited. Waited for someone who could grant them release, waited for a bowl of soup that could let them forget.

Now, that person had arrived.

Within Meng Po's Pavilion, a figure was coalescing.

It was an old woman.

She wore a long, coarse gray robe, devoid of any ornamentation, bearing only the wrinkles left by time. Her hair was gray and white, tied into a simple bun fastened at the back of her head with a wooden hairpin. Her face was aged and kind, the wrinkles on her face like a dried-up riverbed, each one recording endless time.

Her back was slightly hunched, her hands as rough as tree bark, her ten fingers slightly deformed from years of stirring medicinal soup.

But her eyes.

Those eyes were completely different from her aged appearance.

They were eyes that had seen all of reincarnation. Deep within the pitch-black pupils, countless souls flowed, countless memories settled, countless past lives dissipated. Those eyes held no sorrow or joy, no good or evil, no right or wrong, only an eternal, unchanging tranquility.

Like the waters of the River of Oblivion.

Murky, yet calm.

Meng Po stood before the large cauldron, extending those rough hands to gently stroke its surface.

'Old friend,' she said softly, her voice hoarse and gentle, like wind rustling through dry leaves. 'I have returned.'

The cauldron trembled slightly, emitting a low hum, as if responding to her.

A faint smile touched the corner of Meng Po's mouth. She withdrew her hand and turned around.

Her gaze passed over the eaves of Meng Po's Pavilion, over the stone railings of the Bridge of Helplessness, over the surface of the River of Oblivion, and settled on the grayish-white figure standing before the Ghost Gate Pass.

Su Bai.

Her master.

Meng Po bent slightly, performing an ancient salute. This salute did not belong to any civilization in this universe; it came from a place older still, from the starting point of reincarnation.

'Master,' her voice was hoarse and calm. 'Meng Po has returned to her post.'

Su Bai looked at that aged figure, a complex, indescribable emotion welling up in his heart.

He raised his hand, his consciousness linking with Meng Po.

[Meng Po (Hero Unit)]

[Rank: Sixth-Order]

[Grade: Nine Stars!]

[Skills: Meng Po Soup (Active), River of Oblivion Water Guiding (Active), Past Life Mirror (Active), Reincarnation Guidance (Active), Soup Medicine Proficiency (Passive), Immortal and Indestructible (Passive), Lord of the Bridge of Helplessness (Passive), Six Paths Affinity (Passive)]

Nine stars.

Su Bai looked at that grade, his pupils contracting slightly.

A nine-star hero.

This was the highest-grade hero he had ever seen. The Ghost King was six stars. Black and White Impermanence were six stars. Ox-Head and Horse-Face were six stars. The Four Great Demon Underworld Envoys were six stars. Day Wanderer and Night Patroller were six stars. All of the Ten Great Yin Marshals were six stars.

Meng Po was nine stars.

What did this mean?

Su Bai took a deep breath, his mind rapidly processing.

The Six Case Clerks.

Department of Reincarnation, Director Meng Po. Nine stars.

Judges Office: Merit Officer Wei Zheng of the Department of Rewarding Virtue, Zhong Kui of the Department of Punishing Evil, Lu Zhidao of the Inspection Division, Cui Yu of the Yin Law Office. If each one was nine stars...

Department of the Netherworld, the City God. If he was also nine stars...

The Six Case Clerks, six nine-star heroes.

A single nine-star hero could elevate a world from the sixth order to the seventh. Six nine-star heroes were enough for his world to break through all the way from the sixth order to the ninth.

Ninth order.

Su Bai's breathing accelerated slightly for an instant.

He suppressed the agitation in his heart, his gaze returning to Meng Po.

The hunched old woman had already turned back and begun her work.

Her movements were slow, as slow as the flow of the River of Oblivion. But each action was unnervingly precise, as if repeated countless times, as if carved deep into her soul.

First, she drew a stream of water from the River of Oblivion. The water was murky and yellowish, shimmering with an eerie glow. She guided the water into the large cauldron, the water level precisely reaching one-third of the cauldron's height.

Not a drop more, not a drop less.

Then, from the sleeve of her robe, she took out eight medicinal ingredients.

The first ingredient was a gray flower, its petals moist with dew. 'Forgetfulness Flower', only growing on the banks of the River of Oblivion, its blooming period lasting only one shichen. It must be used immediately after picking.

The second ingredient was a handful of yellow soil, mixed with fine bone powder. 'Native Soil', taken from beneath the Wangxiang Platform, soil soaked by the tears countless souls shed during their final look back at their homeland.

The third ingredient was a drop of transparent liquid, rolling like a pearl on Meng Po's fingertip. 'Rootless Water', the last drop of attachment that falls from souls as they cross the River of Oblivion.

The fourth ingredient was a withered, yellow leaf, its veins still retaining faint golden patterns. 'Past Life Leaf', a leaf grown from the Three-Life Stone. Each leaf records a soul's past life.

The fifth ingredient was a wisp of blue smoke, swirling unceasingly in Meng Po's palm. 'Present Life Smoke', the last wisp of longing that rises from a soul during their final look back at their homeland from the Wangxiang Platform.

The sixth ingredient was a grain of fine sand, glimmering faintly under the light. 'Future Life Sand', scooped from the riverbed beneath the Bridge of Helplessness. Each grain represents a future life yet to begin.

The seventh ingredient was a single white hair, Meng Po's own hair. It had grown for as long as she had lived. Each time she brewed the soup, she would take one of her own hairs and cast it into the cauldron. It was her own memory, her own reincarnation.

The eighth ingredient was a tear. A soul's tear. Every soul who crosses the Bridge of Helplessness sheds one final tear upon the Wangxiang Platform. Meng Po had collected countless tears. Each tear was a story, a regret, an unfulfilled wish.

The eight medicinal ingredients were added to the cauldron, one after another.

With each addition, the color of the soup in the cauldron changed. From grayish-white to earthy yellow, from earthy yellow to transparent, from transparent to indigo-blue, from indigo-blue to dark gold, from dark gold to pure black, from pure black to milky white, from milky white to colorless.

Seven colors, seven transformations.