Chapter Eleven: The Ninth Heaven

To be honest, the robed messenger should have taken the opportunity just now to let his spirit escape—that would have been the wisest move. But now, if he tried to flee, it was already too late!

It was too late to string a bow and fire an arrow now. Wang Zhenling channeled his true energy into the feathered arrow in his hand and let it fly with a flick of his wrist, striking the messenger’s spirit with force.

With true energy projected outward, the arrow now had the power to harm spirits and ghosts. The messenger’s soul recoiled in pain, nearly scattering completely. Yet, protected by the talisman, a flash of white light shrouded him as he surged toward the edge of the thatched cottage, desperate to escape.

The robed messenger had arrived early in the morning; now, the sun was already high in the sky. Normally, both ghosts and wandering souls dread the sun’s fiery rays—under such daylight, they would dissipate within the hour. However, this messenger was no ordinary soul. As a branch leader of the Celestial Path, wielding the three-sectioned staff, a fragment of his true spirit was kept safe in the soul lamp at their headquarters. His spirit was well protected; even in daylight, he could escape.

But if he did escape, disaster would fall upon Wang Zhenling, and perhaps even the entire Wang clan of Danling would be doomed! The Celestial Path had rebelled in the past, and though the authorities had been pursuing them ever since, their influence among the people remained astonishing. If the Celestial Path learned that Wang Zhenling had killed one of their branch leaders, they would never let him go, and might even bring ruin to the whole Wang clan.

After all, the Wang clan of Danling was merely a prominent family in the county—nothing in the face of a behemoth like the Celestial Path.

Just as the messenger’s spirit, empowered by talismanic force, was about to break free, a streak of black light struck him squarely. The protective power of the talisman was instantly dissolved as if stained by ink, and the messenger’s soul was suddenly exposed to the sunlight.

The day was neither truly bright nor gloomy, but even so, the moment his spirit was revealed, it let out a mournful shriek and, like snow under the sun, melted away into nothingness.

“Whew…”

At last, having disposed of this troublesome fellow, Wang Zhenling retrieved the inkstone he had thrown. As mentioned before, this inkstone had been acquired for him by Wang Yue from an old scholar; it had the power to ward off evil spirits. This was the scholar’s own inkstone, imbued with his righteous aura—perhaps no threat to corporeal monsters like Xiaobai, but a great danger to bodiless ghosts like this one.

At this moment, Wang Zhenling found himself caught in a dilemma.

Should he cut off the messenger’s head and send it to the authorities for reward and recognition, or…

He hesitated only briefly before banishing the thought of presenting the head to the authorities. The Celestial Path was too powerful—the fate of that local constable made it clear enough. Wang Zhenling had no desire to make himself a target for their vengeance.

The messenger’s three-sectioned staff marked him as a figure of no small standing—at least on the level of a local commander. Killing such a leader would inevitably provoke retaliation. Therefore, no one must ever learn of this incident. Not only could he not claim a reward from the authorities, but he would have to erase all trace of what had happened.

Having made up his mind, Wang Zhenling began to dispose of the evidence. He searched the messenger’s body for anything of value. Aside from the three-sectioned staff that marked his rank, Wang Zhenling found a handful of coins and some odds and ends like a fire striker. Nothing stood out, except for a single letter.

Although this world resembled the Qin and Han dynasties of his previous life, there were notable differences. Technologically, this place was far more advanced. In the Qin and Han, bamboo and wooden slips were used for writing, but here, paper was already common, though still too expensive for ordinary folk.

This was a paper letter, unsigned, but sealed with a spell and stamped with a large green seal.

“Celestial Messenger!”

Wang Zhenling recognized the script on the seal, and his expression changed dramatically.

“This is a letter from the Grand Celestial Lord of the Celestial Path!”

The Celestial Path revered what they called the Central Heaven, also known as the Celestial Heaven. Their leader, the Patriarch, styled himself the Messenger of Heaven, but within the sect, he was known as the Grand Celestial Lord.

So, this letter, bearing the seal of the Celestial Messenger, was from the very leader of the Celestial Path. But who was it addressed to?

Wait!

A sudden suspicion dawned on Wang Zhenling—Celestial Heaven, Sovereign Heaven…

He now knew that the traveler, Zhen Yunzi, had named his temple after Sovereign Heaven, the highest of the Nine Heavens. But among various traditions, the Nine Heavens were described in different ways—sometimes as layers, with Celestial Heaven at the top, sometimes by direction: the east as Azure Heaven, the northeast as Changing Heaven, the north as Dark Heaven, the northwest as Nether Heaven… and the center as Sovereign Heaven.

Could there truly be some connection between the Sovereign Heaven Temple and the Celestial Path?

For a moment, Wang Zhenling felt as if he had glimpsed a great secret. At first, he thought the messenger had simply mistaken Zhen Yunzi for a member of the Celestial Path. But now, he wondered—was Zhen Yunzi truly the first traveler from Sovereign Heaven Temple in this world?

The messenger had been carrying this letter, busy with matters concerning Zhen Yunzi. Could it be that this letter from the Grand Celestial Lord was actually addressed to Zhen Yunzi?

A chill ran down Wang Zhenling’s spine at the thought, as if he had stumbled upon something momentous.

He was sorely tempted to open the letter and see for himself. But he couldn’t—the seal was still intact. Without the proper means, he would never be able to open it, and might even destroy it in the attempt. Worse, the seal could contain magical wards; the Grand Celestial Lord was said to possess divine powers—if he were to strike from afar, Wang Zhenling’s life would be forfeit.

But then another thought occurred to Wang Zhenling, his expression shifting as he weighed his options. After a while, he rose, went to a corner of the thatched cottage, and carefully took out a small chest, extracting several items with great care.

He dragged the messenger’s corpse outside, a short distance from the house, and sprinkled a fine powder over it. Then he left it there, knowing that soon enough, the scent would attract wild beasts to devour the body, leaving not a trace behind.