The night was heavy and dark.
The wind howled across the barren wilderness.
In front of a ruined temple, weeds lay flat against the ground, broken tiles scattered everywhere.
The temple gate hung crooked, creaking eerily in the wind.
Inside, a statue of the City God stood, its face covered in deep cracks, as if caught in a painful, twisted smile.
Zhao Mingkui knelt before the altar, his whole body trembling.
His forehead was swollen and red from banging against the floor. As he kowtowed, he kept muttering:
"Mercy, Lord City God… please spare me… I am innocent…"
Zhao Mingkui, in his past life, had been a petty official in the Laizhou region, greedy and corrupt.
Eventually, someone exposed his crimes. In his rage and panic, he died from a stroke.
After death, he didn't reincarnate peacefully.
Instead, he was dragged into the underworld and appointed the new City God of Laizhou.
At first, Zhao thought this was a great opportunity—promotion and power even after death.
But he soon found out: the rules in the underworld were even harsher than those in the living world.
He had heard that the annual evaluation for City Gods was coming soon.
If a City God governed well, he could be promoted.
If he neglected his duties, he would be punished — stripped of his title, or worse, have his soul destroyed.
Zhao Mingkui knew very well: over the past year, he had done nothing but steal incense offerings, forge death records, and treat the souls of the dead like his personal fortune.
Not one good deed to show for it.
The more he thought about it, the more terrified he became.
All he could do now was kneel and pray, hoping the gods would show mercy.
Suddenly, a cold gust of wind swept into the temple.
The oil lamp flickered wildly, nearly going out.
Zhao looked up — and froze in terror.
In front of the altar, a shadowy figure had appeared.
The figure wore black robes, its face hidden in darkness.
Only two faint red lights glowed from within its eye sockets.
The shadow spoke.
Its voice sounded like dragging chains—harsh and grating:
"Zhao Mingkui, the year-end evaluation has arrived.
Are you prepared?"
Zhao dropped to the ground, kowtowing frantically:
"I have served with all my heart! I have never been lazy! Please, sir, investigate carefully!"
The shadow let out a cold laugh.
With a flick of its sleeve, it tossed a black ledger onto the altar with a heavy thud.
The ledger flipped open by itself, pages fluttering wildly.
Each page listed Zhao Mingkui's crimes:
extorting wandering souls, stealing incense money, secretly altering the Book of Life and Death…
Every accusation was undeniable.
Zhao collapsed, trembling.
"It… it wasn't just me!" he stammered. "The little underlings were involved too!"
The shadow didn't respond.
It said coldly:
"Three days from now — Fengdu City. Evaluation.
If your crimes are proven true, you shall be caned fifty times, stripped of your position, and cast into eternal wandering."
After speaking, the shadow vanished like smoke.
Only Zhao was left, collapsed on the cold temple floor.
Above him, the cracked statue seemed to stare down, grinning mockingly.
⸻
Three days later, Zhao Mingkui was dragged by two black-clad enforcers down a long, endless black road.
The road was paved with cold blue stones.
On both sides, withered grass swayed in the darkness.
In the grass, faint figures shifted — countless lost souls peeking out at them.
Zhao kept his head down, not daring to look around.
Crying and sighing echoed around him, as if rising straight out of the ground.
After walking for what seemed like forever, a massive black gate loomed ahead.
Above the gate, four crooked characters were carved:
[Fengdu Underworld]
Zhao's legs gave out at once.
But the two enforcers, one on each side, grabbed him roughly and shoved him through the gate.
Inside was a vast plaza, packed with underworld officials and ghostly bailiffs.
A black, seething crowd.
At the center stood a high platform.
Upon it sat over a dozen important figures, all wearing dark red robes embroidered with dragon patterns, their presence cold and intimidating.
At the very center sat an old man with snow-white hair and eyebrows drooping to his mouth.
He wore a crimson robe embroidered with a ferocious ghost face.
He was the Chief Examiner—Judge Cui.
Judge Cui narrowed his eyes and spoke in a calm but chilling voice:
"Zhao Mingkui.
You have served as City God of Laizhou for one year.
Do you admit your crimes?"
Zhao Mingkui knelt, banging his head against the ground:
"I have been wronged! I have never meant to harm the people!"
Judge Cui snorted coldly and struck the sound block with his gavel.
From the side of the plaza, several figures stepped forward:
•An old woman, her face streaked with tears, leaning on a cane.
•A young scholar in torn robes, bloodstains on his clothes.
Their faces were pale and deathly, their bodies marked by the injuries that had killed them.
The old woman pointed a trembling finger at Zhao:
"My son…
because we couldn't afford incense offerings, the City God cursed us in a dream.
He died of fright!"
The young scholar knelt down, his voice full of hatred:
"I finally passed the imperial exam… but on the night of celebration, I was attacked by evil spirits and coughed blood until I died!
Zhao Mingkui, return my life!"
Accusations rose like a tide.
Around the plaza, ghost bailiffs murmured in anger, their faces darkening.
Zhao Mingkui, pale as a sheet, shrank into the ground.
He didn't dare say another word.
Judge Cui struck the gavel again and declared coldly:
"Zhao Mingkui, the evidence is clear.
Your crimes are unforgivable.
You shall be caned fifty times and cast into the realm of wandering souls—never to reincarnate!"
"Guards — execute the sentence!"
Two burly ghost enforcers stepped forward, grabbed Zhao, and forced him onto the punishment platform.
"No! I'm innocent! I'm innocent!!!"
Zhao screamed and struggled, but it was useless.
A heavy black iron rod was raised high—
—and slammed down with a thud.
Each blow made Zhao howl in agony, his cries echoing across the entire Fengdu plaza.
After fifty strikes, Zhao was no longer recognizable — just a broken, tattered soul.
The guards dragged him off and threw him into a black blood pool outside the plaza.
The water churned hungrily, swallowing the last of his consciousness.
The wind howled across the empty plaza.
High on the platform, Judge Cui let out a weary sigh and muttered:
"A City God who dares to harm the people… deserves no mercy."
Under the heavy night sky, the gates of Fengdu slowly closed—
shutting out the last ray of light.