Retribution is not absent; its time has simply not yet come.

“Put Xiaoman’s head back!”
Bai Yang shook off Lu Pan’s hand with force, grabbed his collar and spoke.
“What are you doing, young man? Don’t be reckless—let go of me, let go!”
“I’m telling you, there’s no outsiders here now, no ghosts either. Let’s have a proper talk, just the two of us.”
Lu Pan pried Bai Yang’s hand away and replied.
“Hmph, there’s nothing to talk about!”
Bai Yang snorted coldly.
“Isn’t it justice you want? If you want justice, you must understand the truth.”
Lu Pan sighed, helpless.
“The truth is, you took Xiaoman’s head and put it on Zhu Ke’s body!”
Bai Yang shouted, furious.
“No, no, no—it’s not like that. I’m telling you, even if the head was never switched, the two of you would never have been destined to be together in this lifetime.”
Lu Pan spoke, bracing himself.
“So what if Xiaoman and I are not meant to be together? What does it have to do with you, Lu Pan? How could you take Xiaoman’s head without permission? And Xiaoman died so pitifully, her body barely cold—how could you bear to take her head?”
Bai Yang grew more agitated as he spoke, gripping Lu Pan’s collar tightly.
“Let go! The head’s already been changed, hasn’t it? You didn’t want it changed, but it’s changed anyway, right? Just take it that I’ve wronged her, all right?”
“Listen, young man, let me think of a way—I’ll do my best to make it up to the two of you. How does that sound?”
Lu Pan coaxed Bai Yang to release him, smiling insincerely.
“How will you make it up?”
Bai Yang knew he couldn’t win against Lu Pan and wanted to hear his solution.
“Make it up? How? How?”
Lu Pan hadn’t figured it out, and Bai Yang’s question made him flustered.
“You two love each other so deeply, life and death, right? But in this lifetime you’re doomed to be apart. Now, separated by life and death—how painful. I understand. So here’s what I’ll do: I’ll arrange for you to meet, say your goodbyes, just between you two, and then I’ll send her to a good family for reincarnation, so she has a blessed next life. As for you, you can return to the living world at ease.”
“After eighteen years, when she grows up, you two can continue your fate. How about that?”
Lu Pan tried to shift the topic from Bai Yang’s demand for Xiaoman’s head.
“Lu Pan, I never thought you’d be like this—trying to distract me. A meeting is your idea of compensation? You have no intention of returning Xiaoman’s head. I’m telling you, I want her head back!”
Bai Yang, agitated, shook Lu Pan’s collar.
“Why are you still talking about the head? I’ve already done you a huge favor. Why can’t you be satisfied? Besides, the head is already swapped—how embarrassing would it be to ask for it back now?”
Lu Pan pushed Bai Yang’s hands away and flicked his sleeve.
“As the judge of the underworld, you should enforce the law impartially. How can you bend the rules for personal gain and aid the wicked?”
Bai Yang refused to accept Lu Pan’s reasoning.
“Listen, if you keep being so obstinate and aggressive, neither you nor Xiaoman will gain anything!”
Lu Pan raised his hand in warning.
“You dare threaten me?”
Bai Yang glared at him, furious.
“Enough, enough. Let me arrange for you to meet first. Stay here.”
Realizing the argument would go nowhere, Lu Pan went to fetch Zhang Xiaoman.
Zhang Xiaoman, after escaping the Golden Sands Pool, had been locked on the Frozen Spirit Platform, suffering from the biting cold, her breath frosty, body trembling.
“Please—I beg you, Lord Lu, let me go.”
Zhang Xiaoman shivered, chilled to the bone.
“Everyone feels cold here—human, ghost, or god. Don’t worry, I’m here to release you.”

Lu Pan rubbed his hands as he led Zhang Xiaoman away from the Frozen Spirit River, releasing the seal with a surge of yin energy.
“Bai Yang.”
Zhang Xiaoman called out when she saw Bai Yang’s back.
“Xiaoman.”
Bai Yang turned, saw her pallid face, and embraced her.
“How did you get here? Are you...”
Zhang Xiaoman suddenly remembered this was the underworld, and grew anxious.
“It’s a long story.”
Bai Yang recounted everything that happened.
“Well, it seems things have finally reached a resolution. Zhang Xiaoman, wait here for me. I’ll retrieve your head, then send you for reincarnation. Bai Yang, stubborn as you are, you’ll return to the living with me.”
Lu Pan broke in, having received word from the Eastern Peak Emperor and King Yama about his wager with Sima Yuanjun—he was to retrieve Xiaoman’s head at once.
“From now on, we’ll be worlds apart, parted by life and death. Can’t you let us say a few more words?”
Bai Yang spoke with deep emotion.
“Don’t you know your father has received news of your death and is on his way to accompany you? And you still have the heart for romance?”
Lu Pan’s head throbbed at Bai Yang’s words, blurting out his reply.
“What? My father is dead?”
Bai Yang grabbed Lu Pan’s shoulders, agitated.
“Yes, your father has arrived in the underworld.”
Lu Pan sighed.
“Father, I’ve failed you!”
Bai Yang fell to his knees, weeping bitterly.
“Bai Yang, I’m the one who hurt you.”
Zhang Xiaoman hugged him from behind, tearful.
“The Eastern Peak Emperor and King Yama are awaiting my punishment. If I delay, my sentence will only worsen. Fine, you two stay here together—let me retrieve the head first.”
Lu Pan realized he’d misspoken and could only turn away resignedly.

At Zhu Erdan’s home.
“What? Shaorong is missing?”
Zhu Erdan had just sipped his tea when he heard Shaorong wasn’t home.
“When I woke, she was gone, and a few clothes are missing too.”
Zhu Erdan’s father had just awoken himself.
Zhu Erdan lifted his hand, wanting to say something to his father, but thinking of his own father, he lowered his hand.
“Are you all blind? Three people watching one—how did she slip away?”
Zhu Erdan pointed angrily at two servant girls.
“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.”
They bowed repeatedly.
“Sorry? Why are you still standing here? Go look for her!”
Zhu Erdan waved his sleeve, shouting.
“Yes, yes, hurry, hurry!”
His father urged, then rushed out to search for Shaorong in the streets.
Zhu Erdan watched them leave, his expression changing. He hurried to Lu Pan’s altar.
“Lord Lu, come out, I have urgent business!”

Lighting incense, Zhu Erdan called out.
A burst of red light flashed from the idol, and Lu Pan emerged.
“Zhu Erdan.”
Lu Pan spoke without expression.
“Lord Lu, my wife is missing. Please help me find her.”
Zhu Erdan knew Lu Pan would help.
“Zhu Erdan, I’m looking for her too.”
Lu Pan replied directly.
“Why are you looking for her, Lord Lu?”
Zhu Erdan’s face lost its smile, a bad premonition rising.
“I need to take her head.”
Lu Pan sighed.
“It’s over!”
Zhu Erdan’s face was clouded with dejection.
“It’s over.”
Lu Pan was equally downcast, but then straightened and said, “Not over yet. Why so quick to give up? Remember, in all things, gain comes with loss. I’m going to look for her now.”
Lu Pan turned to leave.
“Lord Lu!”
Zhu Erdan called after him.
“What is it? I don’t have time.”
Lu Pan answered impatiently.
“Where are you going to look for her?”
Zhu Erdan had a plan, but kept up his dejected act.
“I have my ways. Once I find her, I’ll go straight to Zhang Xiaoman’s grave.”
Lu Pan vanished from Zhu Erdan’s home.
Zhu Erdan nodded grimly, knowing the location, and headed for Zhang Xiaoman’s grave to wait for Lu Pan’s arrival.

Ke Shaorong, carrying a bundle and with a scarf around her neck, had wandered into the wilderness, with not a soul in sight. The wind rustled the leaves.
She sat on a large stone, wiping sweat from her brow with her sleeve.
A burly figure appeared behind her—it was Yang Danian, who had killed Zhang Xiaoman.
Yang Danian rubbed his nose; he hadn’t eaten for three days, hiding out in the wild since he dared not enter town after killing the magistrate’s daughter. He crept slowly toward Ke Shaorong.
As he neared, he suddenly sprinted, snatching the bundle from her and running madly away.
Ke Shaorong chased him for a few steps, then leaped past him, kicking him in the chest.
Yang Danian howled, dropping the bundle, his body thrown backward, landing heavily on the ground.
“You... aren’t you dead? A ghost! I didn’t kill you, don’t haunt me!”
Yang Danian saw Ke Shaorong’s face, his small eyes wide with terror, paralyzed with fear.
“Oh, so you’re the one who killed her!”
Ke Shaorong stepped forward and kicked him twice; he spun in midair, landing chest-first on a jagged stone. He spat blood, eyes rolling up, dead—his heart pierced by the sharp rock, eyes wide in death.
“If not for you, my head would still be intact!”
Ke Shaorong, not satisfied, kicked his corpse twice more, thinking he might not be dead.
Yang Danian, who had caused Zhang Xiaoman’s death, was killed by Ke Shaorong—bearing Zhang Xiaoman’s face—by mistake. Truly, retribution may be delayed but never denied.