Chapter Seventeen: The Order to Search—He Won't Give In

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Snake Clan Underground Palace
In the silent depths, suddenly two figures appeared—one large, one small.
The little bundle loosened her hands from covering her eyes and saw her small body, escorted by a blue light, slowly settle onto the ground.
The large snake who had carried her all along now sat wearily on a towering throne. After pouring himself a cup of hot tea, he lowered his head and began to drink.
“This… is this your home?” The little bundle looked around. The surrounding realm was bright and splendid, yet utterly silent, as if he lived here alone.
Han Mo did not answer, only focused on drinking his tea.
This trip outside the palace was meant to be a chance encounter to find a Blood Spirit Pearl flower. Unexpectedly, the little bundle had brought the flower directly, saving him much effort.
The little bundle turned back, noticing his silence and quiet tea sipping. Feeling a bit thirsty, she approached softly and whispered, “Is this your home? May I have some water?”
Han Mo poured hot tea into an empty cup in front of him and silently pushed it toward her without speaking.
The little bundle’s eyes curved in delight. She extended her delicate hands to cup the hot tea and said, “Thank you.”
Then, tilting her head back, she took a large sip.
Han Mo’s eyes widened. Just as he was about to warn her that the tea was scalding, the little bundle suddenly spat the tea out with a “pfft,” splattering it all over him.
“Ah! It’s so hot!” The little bundle dropped the cup onto the table with a clatter. She stuck out her little tongue and waved her hands up and down in a hurry, trying to dissipate the heat.
Han Mo’s face darkened instantly. He looked down at his once-pristine, moon-white robe, now stained and dulled by the tea. His temper flared.
Especially since the tea was mixed with the little bundle’s saliva!
He sprang up, radiating a fierce aura, his voice low and grim: “You sure know how to spit, huh?”
All of it landed on him, not a drop missed.
The little bundle looked up timidly, her eyes filled with grievance. “I—I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry…”
“Stay right here.” Han Mo said sharply before turning and heading back to his chambers.
Unless he changed his robe, he feared he wouldn’t sit or stand comfortably, tormented by the stain.
The little bundle hurried after him, calling out, “I’m sorry, I was wrong.”
“Stay put. Don’t follow.” He glanced at her with disdain, his meaning clear.
The little bundle stopped, afraid to follow. Seeing his cold and displeased expression, her heart sank with sorrow and helplessness.
In Hell, no ghost had ever treated her this way.
But…
She had indeed done wrong. She could not blame others.

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She spat tea on someone’s collar—of course he would be angry. For such a neat and clean snake not to kill her was already a mercy.
But now, her tongue was sore and numb.
Also… it was so dark here. She wanted to return to Hell.
The little bundle crouched pitifully, feeling the burn in her mouth. Her pure violet eyes shimmered with helpless tears.
“Father…”
…
Inside Hell
The Main Hall
“Smack!” The purple sand lake tea cup slammed onto the desk, sharp and commanding.
“What did you say?!”
“Yuan’er was taken by the Immortal Clan?!”
Yan Yi stood coldly, towering over the assembled beings before him. His face was dark and stern, exuding an oppressive aura that struck fear into all who looked upon him.
The assembled ghosts bowed their heads deeply, not daring to utter a word. Some even suppressed their presence to the lowest possible level.
Meng Po knelt on the cold floor, her eyes red with guilt, whispering with tears: “It’s Meng Po’s fault. I shouldn’t have taken the little princess out of prison. Because of me, she was taken by that Lan Qing Immortal Lord.”
“Lan Qing?” Yan Yi’s eyes lowered, a trace of cold calculation in their depths. Why did Lan Qing bring Yuan’er away?
“Meng Po says that once the little princess crossed the Immortal River, all beasts stirred, blessed beasts took flight—a spectacle never before seen in the Immortal Realm. Perhaps this is why Lan Qing stopped.”
“Did he say anything?”
Meng Po raised her head, wiping tears quickly as she replied, “He said he would take the little princess to see Lord Yuheng, so that Lord Yuheng could decide whether she was guilty.”
“So,” Yan Yi’s gaze darkened, heavy with gloom, “you just let him take Yuan’er away?”
“Your Highness, forgive me, please forgive me!” Meng Po knelt, knocking her head to the ground in fear, terrified for the little princess.
But the event happened too suddenly, and she truly didn’t know what to do.
She sent someone to the Dragon Clan underground palace to handle official matters, then returned to Hell to report to Your Highness.
Because she knew if anything happened to the little princess, she would surely die.
“It was Meng Po’s negligence that allowed the Immortal Clan to take the little princess away. Meng Po is guilty and accepts punishment.”
“You are indeed guilty,” Yan Yi said as he crossed the desk and stood over her coldly, “Once I find Yuan’er, I will settle accounts with you.”
Meng Po collapsed completely, her tears dried on her face. She seemed to lose all strength, quietly prostrating herself in the hall, whispering: “Meng Po accepts the order.”

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“Your Highness—!!”
“Your Highness, a ghost servant has urgent news!!”
Outside the hall, the ghost servant Mao Ting shouted so loudly it sounded as if Hell itself was under attack.
Hei Chang glanced at Yan Yi, seeing his angry expression and the dense, chilling aura around him. He sighed and called out to the servant outside, “Come in.”
Mao Ting hurried in, still unaware of the situation’s gravity, anxiously reporting, “It’s bad, Your Highness. The little ghosts sent to the Dragon Palace have returned. They say the Third Prince refuses to surrender, and they’re even searching for the Eternal Flower for that human princess to grant her immortality.”
“Damn it.” Bai Chang lowered his head, eyes sharp and fierce as he cursed.
What exactly were those little ghosts trying to do?
They were only adding fuel to the fire—not noticing that Lord Yan was already troubled over the little princess’s affair—and rushing in with such urgency? Perhaps they feared something might happen to Lady Meng Po.
“What… is going on?”
Mao Ting noticed a figure kneeling on the floor, then glanced left and saw Lord Hei Chang and Lord Bai Chang.
He couldn’t help but look to the right, where Lord Su Qin and Lord Meng Hui, who had long been stationed in the Eighteenth Layer of Hell, were also present.
Goodness, what trouble had arisen?
“Useless,” Yan Yi sneered, then strode out, “Losing Yuan’er, and you can’t even handle this.”
Meng Po lowered her head further, her entire body nearly merging with the floor, kneeling humbly and respectfully, unable to lift her gaze.
“Order the entire Ghost Clan to mobilize and search for Yuan’er’s whereabouts.”
“Yes, the ghost generals will obey.”
“Hei Chang, Bai Chang, come with me to the Ninth Heaven to search for Yuan’er.”
“Yes, Hei Chang and Bai Chang acknowledge the order.”
“Meng Hui, go to the Dragon Palace and demand the soul.”
“Yes, Meng Hui understands.”
“If he doesn’t hand her over, next time, I will go myself.”
“Meng Hui acknowledges.”