Chapter 154: Ferryman

Although the term “Ferryman” mentioned by Bowen brought a strong sense of déjà vu, the soul was quite aware that the Ferryman here was definitely not the same being as his senior and friend.

After all, the latter, despite having a profound background, was a real living person. Just as the soul of the Holy Knight Bowen said—how could a living person appear in this realm of the dead, by the River of Three Ways?

With this thought, he glanced around.

The sea of Flower of the Other Shore was vast and boundless, yet fundamentally, it seemed to coexist with the misty, ethereal River of Three Ways at the center. The soul initially planned to wander about, to see what was happening, but after a moment’s contemplation, he dismissed that idea.

The Holy Knight, who called himself Bowen, clearly arrived in this realm of the dead earlier than he did. His experience, even if not extensive, must surely give him a better understanding of the surroundings.

From Bowen’s attire and the faint glow radiating from him, it was evident that he was indeed a bona fide Holy Knight. A righteous priest would not lie; since Bowen said waiting here was sufficient, there was no need for the soul to test it personally.

After all, having realized that even with his ancestral treasure, he couldn’t even land a single strike on Miss Xī, and he didn’t even see how she attacked, the swordsman—a man who had never faced such a tremendous setback in his past life and training—had begun to feel a bit discouraged.

Feeling discouraged was pointless; he was already dead anyway.

So, he simply sat down on the ground and quietly waited with Bowen amidst the blood-red sea of the Flower of the Other Shore.

During this time, the soul saw many things.

Countless souls, indescribable in nature, continued to fall into the River of Three Ways.

Their postures were all manner of peculiar; some souls could still be vaguely identified by their races, but more were of bizarre shapes he had never seen before and couldn’t even begin to imagine.

They fell from the sky of the realm of the dead.

Among them, there were spirits smaller than humans, no bigger than a palm, and he could occasionally see towering beings hundreds of feet tall, far larger and mightier than dragons and giants, yet no matter the form, they would be swiftly, without exception, submerged by the misty and unclear River of Three Ways, gone without a trace.

This was… the final resting place of souls, the wondrous sight humans would see only once in their lives.

A faint enlightenment washed over the swordsman’s heart.

He didn’t quite grasp what he understood, but through contemplating this scene, he seemed to comprehend a bit of the truth regarding spirits and souls.

Time for souls was always hazy, and he didn’t know how long he had been waiting in the flower sea, casually chatting with the soul of the Holy Knight, when suddenly a question came to mind.

“Wait, Brother Bowen, by the way… why are only the two of us sitting here waiting for the Ferryman while all the other souls are just tossed directly into the river?”

All this time, even though he hadn’t left his spot, he had observed the surroundings for quite a while. If “vision” were reliable here, the soul could almost confirm that there were only he and the Holy Knight beside him in this vast flower sea.

Wasn’t that rather strange? Ultimately, what did it mean to be guided?

Bowen’s sitting posture was not as casual as that of the soul; he knelt on the ground, seemingly praying silently to the distant sky. Only upon hearing the latter speak did he open his eyes, turn his head, and smile.

“Brother Soul, this is what I mean when I say it’s the guidance of the God. The River of Three Ways is the endpoint and destination, but the sea of Flower of the Other Shore is actually the boundary between the living and the deceased. Although only the dead can step here, our fate does not lie beneath this realm of the dead.”

As if preparing to say something, Bowen suddenly changed his tone, rubbing his hands in anticipation, standing up to look into the distance.

“Oh! The Ferryman has finally arrived!”

Following his gaze, the soul also looked up.

In the distance, on the River of Three Ways, a small ferry was slowly moving upstream.

On the wooden boat, there was nothing but a solitary figure in a simple gray robe, steadily maneuvering a wooden oar to guide the ferry toward the blood-colored flower shore.

“Is this… the real Ferryman?”

Gazing toward the other end of his vision, the soul couldn’t help but exclaim in awe.

That was… not a human presence.

On the somewhat tattered gray robe, only a swirling blue flame ignited, transforming into the shape of a head. Long hair like flames cascaded behind, and on the indistinct face, only the outlines of two eyes were discernible, while below, only a void held up the long sleeves, the hem of the robe almost sticking to the boat, obscuring what lay within.

In surprise, the small ferry, which seemed only capable of carrying one or two people, had already crossed the ethereal boundary and approached the flower sea.

The Ferryman, with blue flames forming its eyes, gazed directly at the two.

“Board the boat.”

It didn’t speak, yet the straightforward, substantial thought conveyed to the two souls was nonetheless clear.

“It’s finally time… let’s go, brother, to our destination.”

Bowen exhaled lightly, appearing particularly relaxed and relieved, as if he already knew where the ferry would lead them.

He patted the soul on the shoulder from behind before stepping forward.

The Gray-clothed Swordsman followed closely.

Crossing the blood-red sea of the Flower of the Other Shore, the two arrived at the bank of the River of Three Ways, where Bowen performed a respectful bow to the Ferryman and cautiously boarded the small ferry without receiving any response.

As some weight shifted onto the boat, it gently swayed in the void-like river water, creating a sound similar to that of a gentle splash against the shore.

Seeing this, the soul sighed slightly, yet could only mimic the gesture, bowing before lifting his foot to board the ferry toward that unknown “destination”.

But…

A long pole suddenly crossed in front of him, blocking his path.

“You shall not board.”

“…Eh?”

The prohibited soul was momentarily taken aback, and while the unexpected turn of events surprised and confused him, the composure developed through years of experience quickly suppressed those feelings, and he once again bowed respectfully.

“Excuse me, senior, may I ask why I am not allowed to board the ferry? Is it that the ferry can only carry one passenger at a time, and I need to wait for your next trip to…”

The Ferryman remained unchanged, its blue flame face revealing no discernible expression. It merely surveyed the soul up and down with “its gaze” and projected an ancient authority once more.

“You are not on the ferry’s list. Others will ferry you across; await your turn.”

“Uh? But…”

However, before the soul could say anything further, the Ferryman merely tapped the ferry pole lightly against the shore. The small ferry smoothly turned around on the River of Three Ways and began to drift away.

“Soul brother!?”

Only at this moment did Bowen, who had boarded the ferry earlier, belatedly call out in surprise, as if remembering something important, and he hurriedly shouted across the distance.

“Though I’m not sure what’s going on, make sure you don’t fall asleep in the flower sea, and don’t fall into the river! No matter how long it takes, definitely, definitely wait! Remember my words, brother!”

“Definitely wait…!”

Bowen’s voice quickly faded on the river surface as he drifted away, leaving only the soul on the shore with a confused expression.

“What the hell… is going on here…?”

   

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