181: Chapter 181 The Other Side of the River of Oblivion - Meng Po's Shattered Bowl

In Western Honghuang, at the Extreme West Blood Sea.

This place has been deathly silent since time immemorial, permeated with malevolent aura.

A thick, ferocious energy intertwined and rose with the grievances of ten thousand living souls, while boundless blood waves surged, shooting straight into the sky, dyeing the entire firmament crimson, like a curtain of blood hanging down, ready to drip with fresh blood at any moment.

The Asura Realm lay coiled in the center of the Blood Sea. Years ago, Ancestor Minghe opened the heavens and attained the Dao in the Blood Sea, breaking the void with a single thought and forcibly carving out a world. From then on, the Asura Realm became attached to the Six Paths of Reincarnation, with its authority held by the samsara earthly dao.

After being nourished for several kalpas, this territory had quietly expanded twofold, its momentum becoming increasingly monstrous.

And this world was precisely the ancestral land of the Shura Race!

After the world-destroying battle in the East, Ancestor Minghe had an epiphany regarding the Great Dao. Following Jiang Chen's method of forging living beings with blood, he used the origin of the Blood Sea as a catalyst to create the Shura Race.

The Shura Race was born warlike; everyone was a warrior born for slaughter. The men were hideous and terrifying in appearance, while the women were breathtakingly beautiful, as if two extremes were fused together here.

It was precisely because of this race's sudden appearance that Ancestor Minghe was personally appointed by Jiang Chen as the Master of the Asura Path within the Six Paths of Reincarnation.

At this moment, in the heart of the Asura Realm, a massive, crimson palace stood towering, its malevolent aura piercing the heavens and so thick it was almost tangible. Faint sounds of ghosts weeping and gods howling echoed in the surroundings, as if hundreds of millions of dead souls were roaring and wailing within, making one's soul tremble.

This place was the Asura Palace.

The residence of the Shura Ancestor, Minghe.

Outside the palace, tens of thousands of Shura guards stood in formation, clad in dark, heavy armor, holding war spears and lances, their wings slightly spread, their faces as cold and stern as if carved by a knife. The aura they emitted was, without exception, at the level of Daluo Golden Immortal. Their killing intent was condensed but unreleased, yet it already caused the void to hum.

Inside the palace, Ancestor Minghe sat upright on a blood-colored divine throne, his brows tightly locked, his expression solemn and heavy, as if a weight of a thousand jun pressed upon his heart.

Ever since Jiang Chen announced the "Heavenly Pride List" back then, he had quietly left Wandao Academy and returned to the Blood Sea to go into seclusion, intending to break through to the late stage of the Hunyuan Daluo Golden Immortal.

However, over these years, his state of mind had remained difficult to calm, restless and uneasy, as if something in the depths of the Blood Sea was summoning him, or as if the wheel of fate was slowly turning.

"Forget it." He sighed softly, his eyes flickering slightly, "Since I cannot calm my mind, I might as well take a trip."

Before his voice had faded, Ancestor Minghe took a step, and his figure instantly disappeared from the Asura Palace.

The next instant, he was already standing at the origin of the Asura Realm—which was also the core of the Blood Sea.

This place used to be covered in Samsara Underworld Soil, but after Jiang Chen opened up the Samsara World, it was all transformed into nutrients and integrated into the samsara. Now, the Underworld Soil was gone, leaving only a bottomless abyss passage stretching across the land, like a rift in heaven and earth.

This was the only portal from the Blood Sea to the Samsara World.

Ancestor Minghe stood above it, hesitated slightly, then leaped in.

The passage was deep and dark, with scarlet mist flowing inside. After traveling for only a moment, two paths suddenly appeared before him.

One led directly to the Samsara Realm, connecting to the Six Paths of Reincarnation.

The other wound downward, connecting to the Small Netherworld Underworld. The rolling water of the Blood Sea surged endlessly, pouring into the underworld through the passage and merging into the Wangchuan River, dyeing the entire long river crimson like blood.

"Let's go take a look at the underworld." Ancestor Minghe whispered, his eyes flickering, "Since Master appointed me as the Master of the Asura Path, I have not yet been here."

After speaking, he stepped into the passage leading to the underworld.

Meanwhile, in the Small Netherworld Underworld.

In front of the Ghost Gate Pass, dead souls arrived in an endless stream, continuously pouring into the Yellow Spring Road; the path was crowded all year round.

On both sides, the Lycoris Radiata bloomed like fire, enchanting and eye-catching. Specks of fluorescent light floated in mid-air, dreamlike and illusory, adding a touch of eerie romance to this gloomy road.

At the end of the Yellow Spring Road was the Wangchuan River. Spanning across the river was a yin-yang arched bridge—the Naihe Bridge.

"Drink the Meng Po soup, forget the past, and once you have drunk it all, you may enter the samsara." Meng Po hunched her back, holding a bowl of grayish-white soup in her hands, her voice hoarse and low, carrying an irresistible allure.

A dead soul in front of her trembled, not taking the soup bowl, but sobbing in a low voice: "I am dead... What will happen to my sister? No, I don't want to die, I don't want to be reincarnated, and even less do I want to forget everything..."

"Drink it, and the pain will disappear." Meng Po spoke slowly, her tone gentle yet eerie, as if coming from the depths of the Nine Netherworlds.

The dead soul's originally twisted face gradually calmed down, his eyes unfocused, and finally, he reached out to take the soup bowl and drank it all in one gulp.

In an instant, his intelligence was completely lost, like a walking corpse, and under the guidance of the ghost guards, he staggered toward the entrance of the Six Paths of Reincarnation.

The next one, and then the next... Meng Po repeated the same words, mechanically handing out bowl after bowl of Meng Po soup, as if this samsara were endless.

Just at this moment—

The surface of the Wangchuan River rippled slightly, ripples spreading out, and a figure slowly emerged.

His black robes fluttered, and his long hair looked as if it had been soaked in fresh blood, a striking scarlet. His face was so handsome it was almost demonic, and his eyes were cold and ruthless, as if he had seen through life and death and was indifferent to all living beings.

Meng Po, who was about to hand out a soup bowl, suddenly paused, as if she had sensed something, slowly turning her head to look at the river surface.

The moment she saw the young man's appearance—

Bang!

The soup bowl in her hand shattered at the sound, the soup spilling onto the bridge deck and instantly evaporating.

Meng Po's hunched figure trembled violently. Beneath her messy, grass-like hair, that ugly and hideous face actually rippled with emotion. Her pair of scarlet eyes, which should have been filled with malevolence, were now covered in a thin mist, tears welling up in her eye sockets, almost ready to fall.

"Clatter—"

A crisp sound suddenly exploded, a bowl of Meng Po soup shattered into pieces, the soup splashing everywhere, spilling onto the blue stone slabs of the Naihe Bridge, rising into a wisp of fishy black mist.

The countless ghosts wandering on the bridge were suddenly startled awake, looking up with unfocused eyes, and even the ghost guards patrolling back and forth turned their heads in unison to look at the old woman holding the ladle—Meng Po.

But her gaze was fixed tightly on the Wangchuan River.

Following her line of sight, one could see the river surface surging like ink, and amidst the monstrous black waves, a figure stepped over the waves toward them.

His black robes fluttered, his steps were calm, and although there was no boat or raft beneath his feet, he was as steady as if he were walking in his own courtyard. The river water avoided him by three feet, not daring to touch even half an inch of his clothes.

All the ghost guards' pupils constricted, their knees went weak, and they all knelt down with a thud, their foreheads pressed to the ground, calling out in trembling voices:

"Greetings, Master of the Asura Path!"

The person who arrived was none other than Ancestor Minghe, the source of the Blood Sea, the Supreme of the Killing Path!

He walked slowly on the Wangchuan River, as if taking a leisurely stroll, yet it made the entire Yellow Spring suffocate.

One must know that the water of the Wangchuan River was the most poisonous in heaven and earth; a single drop on the skin would erode the soul, and touching it would shatter one's divine sense, leading to eternal damnation. Yet he walked across the waves as if walking on flat ground, leaving the ghosts on both banks dumbfounded, their souls trembling.

When the four words "Master of the Asura Path" reached their ears, the ghosts instantly changed color, their breathing stopped.

Who was that? It was Ancestor Minghe, the one in the depths of the Blood Sea who attained the Dao through slaughter and climbed to the top by stepping on corpses!

In an instant, all the dead souls prostrated themselves and kowtowed, not daring to breathe, fearing that a single glance would bring about a fatal disaster.

Only one person did not kneel.

At the head of the Naihe Bridge, Meng Po stood frozen in place, her empty ladle hanging down, her scarlet eyes staring straight at Ancestor Minghe, as if she had lost her soul.

A ghost guard growled: "Lady Meng Po! Why don't you hurry and pay your respects to the Master of the Asura Path!" Although his tone was kept very low, it was full of anxiety.

He dared not truly reprimand her—Meng Po was no ordinary character.

She was an existence personally appointed by the Samsara Emperor Venerable, Jiang Chen, one of the twenty-nine appointed officials of the underworld. The first ten were the Ten Yama Kings, the last eighteen were the Lords of Hell, and she was the only exception.

Even the Yama Kings would address her as "Fellow Daoist" when they saw her.

Her status was noble, second only to the Emperor Venerable.

Ancestor Minghe walked closer, sensed that burning gaze, knitted his brows, and shouted coldly:

"When seeing this Master of the Path, why do you not kneel?"

The voice was like a blade, cutting through the yin wind.