Unintended Immortality-Chapter 398: Meeting the Divine Lord in a Dream

The world was shrouded in a vast expanse of white—not a pure white, but a textured, slightly pale gray, like the depths of endless mist.

The white fog swirled gently with the wind.

In the depths of the mist sat a young Daoist. His simple robe, washed so often it had faded to a pale hue, wrapped around him as he sat cross-legged. The mist circled around him, flowing softly.

Suddenly, divine light descended.

“Swish!”

Within the fog, a godly figure appeared.

It was a rugged yet elegant middle-aged man, his hair casually loose, a beard framing his face. He wore an ancient and magnificent robe, exuding a restrained divine radiance. He seemed both carefree and refined—a perfect blend of nonchalance and sophistication.

“Divine Lord, it has been a long time,” Song You said, standing and bowing politely upon seeing him.

“I can’t even remember how long it’s been,” Divine Lord Yuewang replied, standing with his hands cupped behind his back, his eyes fixed intently on Song You. “But I do recall you mocking me before.”

“It has been six or seven years. For you, Divine Lord, that might feel like the blink of an eye, but for us mortals, it’s quite a long time,” Song You replied calmly, purposefully ignoring the latter half of the Divine Lord’s comment. “After traveling across half of Great Yan in these six or seven years, what left the deepest impression on me was still your grace and presence, Divine Lord.”

“Get to the point. What does the successor of Hidden Dragon Temple want from me?” the Divine Lord asked directly. “You’ve made me come quite a long way.”

“It’s not that my place is far,” Song You replied with a small smile, “it’s that there are too few temples and statues dedicated to you, Divine Lord.”

“Still mocking me, are you?”

“Not at all.” Song You spoke as he waved his hand, and a table appeared before them. “Please, Divine Lord, take a seat so we may talk.”

“...”

Divine Lord Yuewang stood with his hands cupped behind his back, observing Song You for a moment before finally sitting down.

After sitting, however, he glanced around at the vast expanse of white mist and remarked, “There’s no scenery here, no tea. Doesn’t sitting here feel terribly dull?”

“I’m not particularly skilled in the Art of Dream Creation. This is the best I could manage,” Song You replied.

“Let me add a bit, then.”

With that, the Divine Lord waved his hand as well. The thick mist beneath them instantly dissipated, revealing a lush, verdant mountain.

The mountain’s curves were soft and gentle, its grass as fine as silk, all bending in one direction under the breeze.

The white mist around them cleared further, revealing an ancient pine tree. The tree’s shape was as exquisite as a bonsai, bending gracefully toward them. Its branches stretched out like a canopy, conveniently shading the space above their heads.

In the distance, the mist was blown away to unveil a series of mountains—some clustered together in layers, others rising skyward, their peaks seemingly reaching the heavens. They were blurred and indistinct, half-real and half-imaginary, as if painted in ink.

Between the mountains and below them was nothing but the thick, immovable fog that had been there before. It seemed as though everything existed within the mist, or perhaps above the skies.

Above them appeared a faint, hazy light—something like the sun—its rays piercing the mist but never fully dispersing it.

When Song You looked down again, the table now held a complete tea set.

For a moment, it seemed as though the two of them were seated within a painting, conversing and sipping tea.

“Divine Lord, you have such impressive skill,” Song You remarked.

“As a deity, crafting dreams for mortals is a common task. Naturally, one picks up some dream-weaving techniques,” the Divine Lord said with a generous smile. “And this isn’t even the most impressive technique. I’ve heard of those who can weave dreams so vivid they are indistinguishable from reality—false yet true, true yet false.”

“I have met such a deity before,” Song You replied.

“I have met two such deities myself,” Divine Lord Yuewang said. “One is the Dream God of the Heavenly Palace, and the other is a deity from the mortal realm. In terms of mastery of the Art of Dream Creation, they are nearly equal.”

“May I ask who this mortal deity is?”

“From beneath Yunding Mountain,” the Divine Lord replied.

“In the heart of Mirror Lake.”

The two exchanged a knowing smile.

Divine Lord Yuewang lifted the teapot and poured tea, his movements graceful and refined.

Meanwhile, Song You quietly observed him.

Divine Lord Yuewang was undoubtedly an ancient deity.

Unlike Duke of Thunder Zhou, a relatively young deity whose appearance was still remembered by the mortal world, the Divine Lord’s true visage had long been lost to time. In Duke of Thunder Zhou’s case, the statues in Thunder Temples still bore a resemblance to his mortal appearance, though whether they captured three-tenths or eight-tenths of his true likeness was anyone’s guess.

In contrast, even the oldest statues of the Divine Lord in Yizhou had, over centuries of cultural shifts and evolving aesthetics, lost any trace of his original form.

The Divine Lord was also clearly a carefree deity.

Unlike the pragmatic gods who adjusted their appearances to align with the imaginations, aesthetics, and needs of the people, he didn’t even bother wearing ceremonial robes or official attire. Instead, he chose a simple, casual outfit.

Song You was reminded of the elegant and cultured figures from ancient poems and classical writings—people from a simpler and purer time when refinement and elegance were authentic and sincere. Today’s so-called scholars and aesthetes often emulated those virtues, but at best, they captured only seven or eight-tenths of the essence.

A sudden mountain breeze stirred the Divine Lord’s hair.

Though his face was bearded, it did nothing to diminish his natural charisma and charm.

“Please, have some tea,” the Divine Lord said, handing a cup to Song You.

Song You raised the cup and drank.

The taste was profoundly traditional.

“What an excellent tea...” Song You remarked, savoring the flavor.

“Just cut to the chase. Why have you called me here? I have ignored worldly affairs for years, so don’t make me guess,” said Divine Lord Yuewang. “If there’s something you need help with, seeing as we hail from the same homeland, and your ancestors had many dealings with me, as long as it’s not unreasonable, I’m willing to assist.”

“Divine Lord, are you familiar with the underworld?”

“I’m not that reclusive.”

“I invite you to preside over the underworld as its Ghost Emperor.”

“...” The Divine Lord put down his tea cup and almost rose to leave, then stopped, furrowing his brow as he glared at Song You. “Do not jest with me!”

“Heh...” Song You chuckled lightly and shifted the conversation. “May I ask, what do you oversee?”

“I oversee everything,” the Divine Lord replied.

“Ah...”

Which, of course, meant he oversaw nothing.

Much like the Immortal Elder, whose temples were places one could pray to for almost anything, but whose blessings were rarely effective. Whether you sought his aid or not largely depended on your mood.

“The people of Yizhou hold the Divine Lord in great reverence, so your incense offerings remain steady,” Song You said. “But you are an Imperial Lord—is the incense of a single region enough to sustain the divine form of an Imperial Lord? With your great powers, can these offerings truly sustain your divine strength?”

He continued, “Moreover, from my perspective, the incense offered to you seems to be diminishing year by year.”

“Let them worship if they want, or not if they don’t. If it dwindles, it dwindles. If I fade away, so be it. I’ve already lived well beyond my time,” the Divine Lord replied indifferently.

“I am not joking,” Song You said seriously. “I sincerely wish to invite you to preside over the underworld as its Ghost Emperor.”

“And how do you plan to convince me?” the Divine Lord asked, staring at him intently.

“Faith from the spirits of the dead is still faith, and as the Ghost Emperor, you’d also gain significant faith from the living. This wouldn’t be limited to just Yizhou but would extend across the entire realm,” Song You said, pausing briefly before continuing. “But most importantly...”

Divine Lord Yuewang furrowed his brow, staring intently at him.

“The Ghost Emperor, while supreme in the underworld, doesn’t have to concern himself with governance or hold any real power. The operation of the underworld is managed entirely by the Palace Lords of its various four palaces. At that point, Divine Lord, you would be just as you are now—doing nothing but enjoying the incense offerings.”

“Why me?”

“Because I admire your grace and demeanor.”

“I see.” The Divine Lord gave Song You a knowing look, then smiled and said, “You’ve taken a liking to my lazy nature...”

“It’s your charm, Divine Lord,” Song You said, bowing his head sincerely. “Free-spirited and unrestrained, principled and virtuous, with grace, integrity, and great power—and a refreshingly straightforward temper.”

“Would the Heavenly Palace agree to this?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Truly, I wouldn’t have to do anything?”

“If there’s anything to do, it’s very little,” Song You replied.

“Go on.”

“It would be to protect the underworld, ensuring its normal operation and guaranteeing that its affairs are handled by its own spirits, free from interference by gods, Buddhas, demons, or monsters,” Song You said sincerely.

“...” The Divine Lord was clearly tempted, but as he listened to this explanation, his brows furrowed again.

“Free from interference by gods, Buddhas, demons, or monsters? The Heavenly Palace is powerful, and the Western Paradise is growing rapidly. If they insist on meddling, how could I, alone, possibly stop them?”

“Divine Lord, you need not worry,” Song You replied calmly, holding his tea cup as he continued.

“First, you are already a being of immense power and boundless divine strength—a deity of the Heavenly Palace with the rank of Imperial Lord. Even though you have distanced yourself from worldly affairs and gathered less incense over the years, there are few gods or Buddhas who would dare provoke you.

“Second, both the Heavenly Palace and the Western Paradise are keen to station their representatives in the underworld. As a representative of the Heavenly Palace, you would be their means of maintaining influence in the underworld. Why would they trouble you? With the Heavenly Palace backing you, what could the Buddhist sects possibly do?”

The Divine Lord seemed to be in deep thought.

“Third,” Song You continued, “if you take up the position of Ghost Emperor, it would not be a mere honorary title. Your status in the Heavenly Palace would rise rapidly, and the incense and faith from both the mortal and nether realms would also increase dramatically. With such rapid growth, who would dare challenge you?”

Song You spoke without pause, as if deliberately leaving no room for the Divine Lord to hesitate or reflect. “Fourth, the mortal world's Ghost City was built by me. The future underworld will also be condensed and formed from it, most likely through my efforts. I will naturally leave methods in place to assist you, Divine Lord.”

“What methods? How would you help?” The Divine Lord, his mind overwhelmed with questions and too little time, could only ask the most pressing one.

“The mortal world's Ghost City and the mortal world’s underworld are neither like the mortal world nor like the Heavenly Palace. If the Ghost Emperor is supported by the cooperation of the Ghost Kings of the various four palaces, then this realm becomes the Ghost Emperor's world. What do you think?”

“...”

“Divine Lord, dawn is approaching,” Song You reminded him.

“Would the Heavenly Palace truly agree to this?”

“When I sent Yan An to seek you out, the Heavenly Palace had already dispatched a divine envoy to meet with me,” Song You replied.

“And what did the envoy say?”

“They raised no objections,” Song You said, truthfully.

The Divine Lord fell into silence once more, deep in thought.

At this moment, the Daoist spoke, “Everything I said earlier was the truth, but it was also all meant to persuade you, Divine Lord. The real reason is this: the Heavenly Palace has never truly cared about the lives or deaths of the spirits of the underworld.

“Even if they appoint a Ghost Emperor, it’s likely only to exploit the incense and faith that comes with the position. I simply cannot bear to hand over this role to a group of self-serving, virtue-less deities who would do anything for their own gain. The spirits of the dead have lives too.”

His words were filled with sincerity.

After speaking, the Daoist set down his tea cup, stood up, and deeply bowed to Divine Lord Yuewang. “I have faith only in you, Divine Lord. There is no one else I could entrust this to.”

“...”

The Divine Lord was momentarily stunned. His expression gradually became serious. He, too, put down his tea cup, stood up, and reached out to steady the Daoist. Then, unexpectedly, he returned the gesture with a deep bow of his own.

“...Alright!”

“Thank you, Divine Lord.”

“I won’t betray your trust.”

In the dreamscape, layers of mountains appeared, shifting between reality and illusion. The wind stirred the mist, the grass swayed like silk, and the steam from the tea on the table beneath the ancient pine tree rose into the air. The Daoist and the Divine Lord exchanged bows—a moment so picturesque that, if frozen in time, it could have been a masterpiece of art.