Qin Ye didn’t sleep that night.

He stared intently - almost avariciously - at the campus grounds of the First Academy of Cultivators, because he knew that he would never contact them again as soon as he departed. They had just earlier waved at each other, saying that they would ‘see each other again soon’. But Qin Ye knew better. With this, it was likely to be farewell for good.

After all, he could never maintain a particular identity in the world for too long. Five years was the limit, and then he would have no choice but to fake his own death, before restarting afresh elsewhere with a different image and a completely fresh slate.

After a long time, he finally averted his gaze and sighed wistfully, “Everything stems from the imbalance between the netherworld and the mortal realm.” His heart was suddenly filled with a strong desire to rebuild Hell and make it stronger than it had ever been before.

Doesn’t it mean that I’d be able to declare my identity openly in the mortal realm as soon as Hell is restored to its former glory?

He would no longer have to worry about the daolords, nor be too concerned about the threat of foreign underworlds. He wouldn’t even have to fear that there were evil ghosts who were stronger than himself.

He would even be able to communicate with everyone through the relaying of dreams, revealing the fact that he was from the underworld, and not have to sneak about the underworld and assume a brand new identity every five years on end.

Yet, at the same time, he suddenly realized that there was still an incredibly long road ahead to the restoration of Hell. Not only were there certain hard conditions that had to be fulfilled,...