Chapter 165: Have You Ever Seen Hell?

As the laughter faded, the clear sky suddenly rippled with waves. A large group of figures slowly entered, finally hovering in the air above the courtyard. Instantly, a bloody aura blanketed the academy grounds.

The abrupt laughter brought the cheers to a screeching halt. Countless students stared up at the sudden appearance of the crowd in the sky, bewildered and unable to grasp what was happening.

In the sky, Su Qian’s face darkened as he gazed at the group who had breached the protective barrier. His eyes slowly fixed on the man at the forefront, dressed in an alchemist’s robe. Su Qian narrowed his eyes, a cold smile curling on his lips. “So it’s you. I wondered who it could be—the Medicine Emperor Han Feng of the Blackhorn Region.”

Han Feng, as he was called, let his thin lips curve into a faint smile, answering Su Qian politely, “Elder, you flatter me. That title was merely a gift from friends in the Blackhorn Region; hardly worth taking seriously.”

“Han Feng, this is the territory of our Canaan Academy. You come uninvited—what is your purpose?” Hu Qian’s expression soured at the arrival of Han Feng and his companions. He rose to stand behind Su Qian, shouting at Han Feng.

Han Feng chuckled softly, but his gaze drifted toward the shattered tip of the Heavenly Burning Qi Tower. His voice was gentle when he spoke, “The Heavenly Flame is a miraculous treasure of the world, yet you seal it here so cruelly. As an alchemist, flame is a faith within our hearts. Therefore, I ask Elder Su Qian to release the Heavenly Flame, and not commit such a crime as imprisoning it.”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Xiao Xie burst into laughter, flying up into the sky. He shot a cold glance at Han Feng. “You must be Han Feng?”

“Who are you?” Han Feng regarded Xiao Xie, who had suddenly appeared, with confusion. The fact that Xiao Xie could stand effortlessly in midair made Han Feng wary; if Canaan Academy had gained another Dou Zong today, their hopes of snatching the Heavenly Flame would be dashed.

“Yao Chen—he was half a guide to me,” Xiao Xie replied calmly. He had absorbed Yao Lao’s memories in both alchemy and martial arts, so calling him a half-guide was not inaccurate.

The others heard the name Yao Chen with little reaction, but Han Feng’s face changed drastically. He knew that name all too well.

“That old man isn’t dead?” Han Feng’s pupils contracted. If Yao Lao was alive, Han Feng would be in trouble. Not to mention Yao Lao’s good friend, the Wind Master, who would be the first to hunt him down.

“No, he’s dead,” Xiao Xie said, shaking his head.

Han Feng had just breathed a sigh of relief when Xiao Xie continued, “But he wants you to join him. Have you ever seen Hell?”

“What?” Han Feng was baffled by Xiao Xie’s cryptic words, but in the next moment, he was captivated by Xiao Xie’s eyes. Within them appeared a black pattern formed by three overlapping shuriken, drawing Han Feng in until he was completely immersed.

“Where is this?” When Han Feng regained his senses, he found himself in a different place. Surveying his surroundings, he saw a sky stained dark red and desolate land all around. What terrified him most was his inability to sense a trace of battle energy or soul power—he had become an ordinary mortal.

“A new wandering soul—come with us.” As Han Feng stood lost, a raspy voice sounded behind him, and a chain suddenly tightened around his neck.

“What are you doing? Do you know who I am? I am the Medicine Emperor Han Feng!” Han Feng felt the weight of the chain, but could not break free. He turned to see two figures—one in black, one in white—each wearing tall, pointed hats. One held a white mourning staff, the other a black chain, the latter attached to Han Feng’s neck.

“Heh heh, Medicine Emperor, whoever you were in life, after death, you belong to us—the brothers Black and White Wuchang!” Black Wuchang sneered.

“Enough, Old Black, let’s not waste words. Judge Lu is waiting, and it’s not good to keep him waiting. When he’s done, we brothers can have a drink,” White Wuchang said impatiently.

“Alright, let’s go.” Black Wuchang tugged the chain, dragging Han Feng stumbling forward.

Han Feng’s mind reeled. Dead? When did I die? How did it happen?

Led by Black and White Wuchang, Han Feng walked for an unknown time until a colossal city appeared before him, shrouded in eerie, black deathly mist. Even before approaching, Han Feng’s body began to tremble uncontrollably—a fear rooted in his soul.

“The Gate of Ghosts!” Han Feng read the blood-red characters above the city gate, feeling a chill wash over him.

“Brothers, what is this place?” Han Feng shivered, asking Black and White Wuchang. Though there were no legends of the underworld on the Battle Qi Continent, he had already begun to guess.

“This is the world of the dead. All who die come here,” Black Wuchang replied without turning.

“And where are we going?” Han Feng asked fearfully. He had no idea where they intended to take him, but sensed it was nothing good.

“We are going to the judge. He will decide your fate based on your deeds in life. Whether you enjoy riches or suffer the most severe punishments depends on what you have done,” White Wuchang said with a mocking smile, scaring the new soul. This was one of the few amusements for Black and White Wuchang.

In the Tsukuyomi world built by Xiao Xie, all the beings of the eighteen hells had their own personalities. To Black and White Wuchang, this was the real underworld.

Dragged by Black Wuchang, Han Feng crossed the Bridge of Forgetfulness. Looking at the yellow river below, filled with faces twisted in agony, his heart quivered with dread.

Passing countless ghosts and monsters, Han Feng was terrified every step of the way. Finally, under their guidance, he entered the Hall of King Yama. The throne was empty—after all, the king could not be present at all times.

But on a lower seat sat a burly man, with a ferocious face and bushy beard, dressed in a red robe. His eyes, like copper bells, made Han Feng’s heart freeze.

“Judge Lu, the soul of Han Feng has arrived!”

“Han Feng, forty-seven years of life, over three hundred murders, betrayal of teacher and ancestors. Sentenced to the sixth level of hell—the Copper Pillar Hell for one hundred years. After that, to the ninth level—the Oil Cauldron Hell for three hundred years. Black and White Wuchang, take him away!” Judge Lu pronounced, consulting the Book of Life and Death.

With the judgment given, Black and White Wuchang seized the pale-faced Han Feng and took him to suffer his punishment.

Bang!

Everyone saw the battle energy wings behind Han Feng vanish. He plummeted from the sky, but Han Beng, who was behind him, caught him in time, saving him from a fatal fall.

“Master, what happened?” Han Beng asked worriedly, seeing Han Feng’s vacant face, dull eyes, and aura of death.

Xiao Xie’s lips curled into a faint smile. To outsiders, it had seemed only an exchange of glances between Han Feng and Xiao Xie, but in truth, Han Feng had suffered four hundred years of torment in hell, his spirit utterly broken.

In the world of Naruto, even the nearly immortal Orochimaru was instantly defeated by Itachi’s Tsukuyomi. Such was the terror of the technique—even more so because Itachi’s body was frail, and the burden of the Mangekyo Sharingan was too great. Otherwise, its power would be even more formidable. In the Naruto universe, Madara intended to cast Tsukuyomi onto the moon, plunging all humanity into Infinite Tsukuyomi and achieving world peace.

Though peace was never achieved and Kaguya was resurrected instead, the technique did indeed hypnotize all of humanity, proving the terror of Tsukuyomi.

Xiao Xie’s Mangekyo Sharingan was the eternal version, unlike Itachi’s. Itachi’s Tsukuyomi lasted three days in an instant, but Xiao Xie’s could span hundreds of years in a moment.