The Fox Spirit Sent Me to Explore the Underworld (Part One)

Deep within the woods lay a mass graveyard, its graves of unknown age, and yet I had never once heard my parents mention this place. I couldn’t even tell how far it was from my home. The ghostly flames flickered and wandered among the trees, accompanied by unnerving, hair-raising cries that sent panic rushing through me.

I picked my way along the muddy, uneven path, stumbling with each step. Suddenly, I lost my balance, gave a startled cry, and tumbled headlong into a deep pit along the trail.

"Ah—!" Darkness swallowed my vision as I plunged toward the bottom. In that instant, I heard the desperate pleas of wronged souls, and the gleeful laughter of underworld enforcers. "Don’t take me, let me go back, please, sir. My son is still waiting for me at home." "Heh heh heh, money turns the wheels of the dead; without it, you can only stay here." These voices filled me with terror.

A chill wind shuddered through me, waking me. When I opened my eyes, the sky was pitch black. "Where am I? Is this the pit in the woods?" But there shouldn’t be wind here, and that bitter cold made me shiver uncontrollably.

Hugging my shoulders, I tried to gather my thoughts. Suddenly—beep!—a long car horn blared, startling me. Dazzling headlights pierced the darkness, and a 212 jeep rumbled toward me, its light so blinding I could barely keep my eyes open.

"Girl, do you have a death wish?" someone shouted from the jeep, glaring at me with a fierce expression. "Are you blind? Get out of the way! Don’t waste our time!"

Wait—there were people living in a pit like this? And the person in the pit looked just like me! But his face was unnaturally long, with no chin at all, and his eyes didn’t move. My mind reeled with questions. Eyes that don’t move—only a paper effigy’s eyes are like that. And the person in the jeep—his face was deathly white, so white it reminded me of the hanged ghosts in the woods.

"They’re ghosts! They’re ghosts!" I screamed, scrambling for the pit’s exit, but no matter how far I ran, I always ended up back at the spot where the jeep had passed. After several laps, exhausted, I collapsed at the roadside.

"Little miss, want to buy a flatbread?" A plump woman in a gleaming red quilted jacket approached, smiling warmly. "Flatbread? That’s my family’s specialty!"

"Auntie, why are you selling here?" I asked, puzzled. But her face was so peculiar—no one from home looked like this.

Her face glowed green, and her smiling blue eyes gazed at me. No matter how her face glimmered, it was still bloodless.

"Auntie, is your flatbread hot? It’s so cold—won’t it cool quickly?" I eyed the bamboo basket slung over her arm.

"Heh, what age do you think this is? Why are you still carrying a basket like that? Nobody uses those anymore," I laughed, pointing at her basket. She just shook her head in bewilderment and helplessness.

"Girl, are you buying or not? I have things to do after I sell this basket of flatbread." "Buy, buy! Why wouldn’t I?" I replied with a smile. "Give me two, then."

She shook her head as she handed me two pieces. Sigh, serves me right—there’s chicken and meat at home, yet here I am, in a freezing place, eating flatbread. As I took the first bite, confusion washed over me.

"What kind of flatbread is this? Why does it taste like paper?" I chewed, peering at it—and froze in shock. Glaring at the woman, I protested, "Auntie, what is this? This is clearly paper!" I spat the mouthful onto the ground.

"Hey now, little miss, don’t slander me! This is fresh from the pot!" We argued back and forth.

"You little brat! How can you accuse me? I’ve been selling flatbread here for decades. Aren’t you ashamed?!" She was relentless, gripping my arm and shouting, "I don’t care about your excuses. You ate my flatbread—you must pay!"

"Pay? You call this flatbread?" I retorted, brandishing the paper disc.

"Oh, you want a free meal, do you? That won’t work here!" Her furious glare unnerved me, and her icy grip was like being held by frost.

Could she use magic? I couldn’t let her grab my arm—if she froze me, I’d never get back home. Thinking fast, I said, "All right, I give up! I’ll pay! Let go, and I’ll get my money." I yanked my arm free and reached into my pocket.

"Two for a yuan back home. Here, I’ll give you two yuan, okay?" She looked at me, baffled. "What do you mean, two yuan?"

Did she really not know what two yuan was? I pressed a pair of bills into her hand, watching her, confused.

"Well, what’s this? You think you can fool me with this scrap of paper? It’s just two yuan! You think I’ve never seen money before?" she shouted.

"Auntie, can’t you read? It says two yuan right here!" I argued, pointing at the words on the bill.

"Girl, I may be old, but I’m not senile. Let me show you what real money is!" She produced a bill from her pocket that left me dumbstruck.

"Five hundred taels, Underworld Pawnshop?" I stared in disbelief at the note bearing the Jade Emperor’s portrait. "This is ghost money!"

I pointed, laughing nervously, "You still use this... Ah! This is the Underworld—could the pit I fell into really be the entrance from the world of the living?" The realization sent a cold shiver through me, and I collapsed to the ground.

"What’s wrong, girl? Caught trying to trick me with your paper?" she sneered. Her words filled me with dread. "I don’t have any underworld money! Oh, Fox Spirit Lady, why didn’t you give me a couple of notes for here?"

I broke down in tears.

"No money, huh? Fine, let’s go to the report office and sort this out!" She began to wail toward the darkness, the sound as grating as a banshee’s shriek. It hit me—her howl was just like the ghost woman’s in the fields. She really was a ghost!

"Heh heh heh, little girl, you ate my flatbread and think you can run? Not a chance!" She pointed at me, and a green light shot toward me. Suddenly, I was rooted to the spot, unable to move.

What kind of people are these? Over a single flatbread, she’d pin me in place with sorcery? I raged at the ghost woman for casting her spell, but she only laughed triumphantly. Beep! The blare of a car horn, and a blinding light split the darkness again. Did underworld enforcers really drive jeeps?

"Officer, this girl bought my flatbread and tried to cheat me with a scrap of paper. You must give me justice!" she cried, sobbing.

They say there are bad people among the living, but the Underworld seems no better! Isn’t the King of the Underworld supposed to rule strictly? How could such people exist under his watch? My anger flared.

"This isn’t fake money, it’s real—just..." Before I could finish, two men stepped out of the jeep, glaring fiercely at me.

They looked utterly vicious—one’s face smeared with blood, the other deathly pale, both with elongated faces twisted in perpetual fury.

"You must be the one who ate the flatbread without paying?" "I did pay, but she..." I protested, but the pale man grabbed the money from my pocket and shouted, "This is money? You’re trying to fool ghosts! Come with us!" They hustled me into the jeep.

It was real money—but from the world of the living, and in the Underworld, it didn’t count. No matter how I pleaded, they wouldn’t listen, and dragged me away.

In the Underworld, cars moved like the wind. Soon, we arrived at a place that struck me as both ancient and terrifying.

"Get out. Or do you expect us to carry you? Who do you think you are?" The two enforcers mocked me coldly.

This must be the Underworld’s administrative office. The building before me was enclosed by walls of blue brick, the mortar lines carefully traced with whitewash. Three large red characters—"Magistrate’s Office"—stood out above a bronze lion statue. The architecture, though less ornate than in the living world, was still impressive.

One of the enforcers pointed at an iron lion lock by the gate. At his gesture, the lock roared, and the gate swung slowly open.

Inside, a fat, large-eared man with blue eyes sat at a desk, his face bloodless as he ate something crimson. He glared at me savagely between bites, relishing his meal with chilling delight.