Chapter Six: First Encounter with the Matchmaker

It is often said that mortal life is full of bitter longing; a fleeting moment of indulgence is followed by a sigh at the world's endless splendor.

In the Celestial Realm.

“Xiaolele, you’re really being unfair. The Celestial Phoenix Clan not only provided all the materials for the weapons they asked me to forge, they even offered their most precious phoenix feathers. The Celestial Fox Clan did the same, presenting their ancestral formulas. Yet you, wanting me to forge weapons for you, have come empty-handed. What exactly are you plotting?” The Lord of Ghosts chuckled lightly. If not for some old friendship with this boy’s father, he’d have half a mind to tear this impudent youth apart.

Wen Le, calm and unhurried, poured a cup of wine and placed it before the Lord of Ghosts. “I’ve long heard of your fondness for fine spirits. Why not sample the Celestial Realm’s newly-brewed Yearning Drunk today?”

The Lord of Ghosts raised an eyebrow. Even before he reached the appointed place, the intoxicating aroma had already wafted to him, and he’d guessed this youth might try to barter with wine. Now, it seemed, he was correct.

The wine was served in a delicate crystal goblet, looking quite exquisite. The Lord of Ghosts examined its color—rich and lustrous, free of any impurity. He swirled the cup lightly, tipped it, and took a sip. The flavor was mellow and lingering, soft and profound. He praised it silently—such a good wine, perhaps unmatched in all five realms.

Sipping slowly, the Lord of Ghosts found his spirits lifted; even the sight of this young man became much more pleasing. At the opportune moment, Wen Le refilled his cup. “What do you think?”

The Lord of Ghosts regarded Wen Le silently for a moment. “The wine is excellent, indeed.”

“As long as you’re satisfied,” Wen Le replied with a faint smile, as if he’d already forgotten his purpose for coming, yet all the while exuding a composed confidence. The Lord of Ghosts dispensed with further pretense. “So, the Celestial Dragon Clan expects to trade these few bottles of wine for the weapon they desire?”

“Of course not,” Wen Le answered. “The Asura Hall holds countless treasures, but our clan truly has nothing worthy enough to present.”

Nothing worthy? The Lord of Ghosts’ lips twitched as he scoffed inwardly. Who would believe that? That old devil of a father of his still refuses to part with the dragon-scale inkstone he once asked for, and as for the Ninefold Lotus, one of the ancestral treasures—are those not worthy? This sly brat was simply feigning ignorance.

The Lord of Ghosts pondered a moment, then asked, “What, then, do you propose?”

With a flick of his wrist, Wen Le produced a box of dark, seasoned wood. “Beyond this, the Celestial Dragon Clan promises to send you three jars of fine wine every year. Both the Celestial Realm and I, its leader, pledge you one favor each—anything within our power, we will do our utmost to fulfill.”

The Lord of Ghosts tapped his fingers lightly on the stone table, not answering for some time—long enough for Wen Le’s expression to change—before he finally uttered, “Interesting.”

Truly fascinating. No one, in all the heavens or on earth, had ever dared to promise him a favor. Yet this youth not only offered one, but as the leader of the Celestial Realm, pledged a second on its behalf. Such youthful recklessness—was he truly unafraid of losing everything?

Though the Celestial Dragon Clan led the Celestial Realm, the Phoenix and Fox Clans were no pushovers. The Lord of Ghosts had dealt with those old stubborn ones before—anyone who tried to steal from their plate would surely lose a layer of skin. Unless, of course, that someone was him.

The Lord of Ghosts found himself increasingly curious about this “devil's” son. At last, he agreed, “Very well. But you must provide all the materials I require.”

“Of course,” Wen Le replied with relief.

The Lord of Ghosts sneered, “In three days, deliver what I need to the Asura Hall.” With that, he vanished, taking with him the wine and the box, leaving behind only a slip of paper densely covered with writing.

Wen Le exhaled deeply; his back was damp with sweat. This old ghost was indeed difficult to handle. Who, in the future, could possibly keep such an unpredictable and powerful person in check?

After reading the paper, Wen Le frowned tightly. That old devil, truly… Ah, never mind. Better to start thinking of how to gather these materials.

Meanwhile, the Lord of Ghosts opened the wooden box, and upon seeing the dragon-scale inkstone inside, could not help but laugh as the image of that old devil’s pained expression rose in his mind.

Inside the hall, the black attendant and the four monsters exchanged confused glances, unsure what had just transpired.

Three days later, at the Asura Hall, the promised materials arrived as scheduled.

The Lord of Ghosts eyed the crates, calculating inwardly. In truth, only five items were needed for forging weapons; the rest were for his personal use. That youth from the Celestial Realm had proved quite perceptive.

Seasons passed. The promised weapons for the Celestial Dragon Clan were completed, and the wine jars long emptied. Though the time for the next wine delivery had not yet come, the Lord of Ghosts was already craving more.

Unable to sate his thirst, his mood soured, and his subordinates suffered for it, their wails echoing through the hall. At last, the four monsters could bear it no longer and sent the black attendant to inquire.

The black attendant quickly discerned the root of the problem and suggested, “Why not ask them to send the wine early?”

“Absolutely not. That would make me seem far too greedy,” the Lord of Ghosts immediately retorted.

The black attendant wiped his brow, thinking to himself that his master was well aware of his own weakness. He ventured again, “Perhaps, then, you could deliver the weapons in person and enjoy a few drinks while you’re there?”

The Lord of Ghosts shot him a sidelong glance. “And if they don’t bring out the wine?”

Helpless, the black attendant stammered, “Well, then… why not just tell them directly?”

The Lord of Ghosts snorted. “And where would that leave my dignity?”

The black attendant inwardly conceded—yes, yes, you’re always right.

With a sweep of his sleeves, the Lord of Ghosts declared, “Enough. I’ll go myself. I’ve never failed to get what I want.”

In the Celestial Realm.

After delivering the weapons to that youth, the Lord of Ghosts found a random pretext to wander about. He reasoned that, rather than waiting for the Celestial Realm to send wine, it was better to secure the source himself.

The Soul-Chasing Tassel, typically used for tracking souls and following footprints, was now repurposed to seek out wine. It worked perfectly. Soon enough, he traced the faint, elusive fragrance in the air.

Rarely, the Lord of Ghosts climbed over a wall and, beneath a great tree, found the source of the scent.

The tree was enormous, its branches lush and dense, festooned with countless red threads of varying thickness and length. Even by day, the threads shimmered faintly. In the Celestial Realm, there was only one place with so many red threads—the Chamber of Longing, where mortal fates and love lines were governed. Yet what intrigued the Lord of Ghosts was not the place, but the one brewing the wine.

Could it be the Old Man Under the Moon, that sly old matchmaker?

“Who’s there? Who’s there?!” a startled cry rang out nearby. Without another thought, the Lord of Ghosts snatched up a wine jar that had just surfaced from the earth and concealed himself in the great tree above.

“Heavens, my wine! Who is the wretch, committing theft in broad daylight? Outrageous!”

“Truly despicable—absolutely intolerable!”

“No, I must go ask the gatekeeper for a dog to guard against thieves!”

Beneath the tree, the grumbling gradually faded into the distance. The Lord of Ghosts chuckled quietly. It had been some time since he’d encountered anyone so entertaining. Leaning back against the tree, he drank several jars of wine to his heart’s content, then vanished without a trace.