For a good long period of time, Shang Xuan was stunned speechless from the casual sentence tossed from Meng Po's mouth.
The Dragon Gate was… closed?
Out of instinct, the Flame Ancestor glanced below his feet, of which the entirety of the Spiritual Conflux was revealed before his eyes. The youth's gaze pierced through all of the mysteries composing the spatial dimension that served as the primary gate connecting the three Planes into a unified existence.
From one undefined point to another connected by an infinite line was the Bridge of Forgotten Dreams.
Mortal souls that reached the end of their destined lifespan in a mortal world were transported to the start of the bridge, and assigned a random queue upon their successful entry into the Spiritual Conflux.
Once either the Black Impertinence or the White Impertinence called their queue, the mortal soul could traverse the infinite bridge to stand before Meng Po to request for a bowl of calming soup.
The bridge with endless yet infinitesimal length was constructed from archaic clay bricks gleaming with the aftershine of a baptism of blood, the time-worn cracks concealing an epoch of destitute and loneliness.
Below the bridge was a river of clear white liquid, traversing from one unknown point of space to another.
The Bridge of Forgotten Dreams facilitated the travel for a mortal soul from one mortal world to the next, and the River of the Underworld was the primary transportation system for immortals seeking to visit the Immortal or Demon Planes depending on their affiliation. Both utilized the system of regular inputted queues and were cleared one by one; for the beings whose time was unlimited, the wait was hardly worth any word of complaint.
Thus, the Spiritual Conflux underneath Meng Po's management was rather smooth and consistent in its operation, allowing immortal and mortal souls to reach their destination in a reasonable amount of time.
Mortal souls could begin their next lives after a century for the average period of waiting, and immortals could receive their queue from a year to a millennium.
And at the end of the bridge of cracked red bricks, existed six bottomless holes standing vertically with their gaping maw directed towards the mortal souls crawling towards it.
The Mortal Gate, the Life Gate, the Death Gate, the Pain Gate, the Origin Gate, and the Dragon Gate; these six portals determined the fate of the incoming souls in their next iteration.
The Mortal Gate, as its name implied, reflected that the fate of the mortal soul would retain its current benefits and deficits. Upon receiving the soup from Meng Po and crossing over, they would neither receive any increase in luck, but would not accumulate any additional calamities than previously prescribed.
The Life Gate bestowed the mortal soul with an increased lifespan that transcended that of their peers within the mortal world, causing them to resemble that of the shadow of immortals.
Unfortunately, the benefits of near limitless longevity was the exponential increase in prescribed tribulations and calamities, with the magnitude of such elevated by a margin.
The Pain Gate was the opposite in a comparative sense; at the price of increasing the immediate sufferings experienced, the mortal soul could drastically elevate their fortune until they possessed the potential to stand at the peak of the mortal world.
After electing to choose the Pain Gate, many mortal souls perished within the first two decades, though the causation could not be reduced to a sizeable amount.
Alas, not a single mortal soul had yet to enjoy the bliss of attaining their accomplishments, for Meng Po was too sadistic towards her pets.
The Death Gate redacted a specified proportion of the mortal soul's allotted time at the mortal world, in exchange for the fulfillment of all satisfactions. Lust, greed, desire; all fluctuations emitted from the mortal soul was granted without exception – the only caveat was a shorter lifespan than the rest.
The Origin Gate granted mortals a chance to reach the boundary separating the Mortal Plane from the Immortal Plane and the Demon Plane, and was the sole repository that continued to expunge newly ascended immortals at the production rate of an industrial factory.
With the deficit of a significantly reduced fortune and an increase in calamities, a mortal soul could cultivate and ascend to immortality – which was the most desired option for almost all of the souls alight on the bridge.
The Dragon Gate was strictly reserved for the most honorable of mortal souls, and all immortals whose application had been approved by the Spirit Transference Meng Po herself.
As for which gate a mortal soul was assigned to upon drinking the proffered soup, that was similarly up to Meng Po's sole discretion.
Absolute fortune, no calamities, and an indescribably blissful vacation without any prescribed deficits – the Dragon Gate's benefits were limitless, and there was no need to impose any penalty.
Alas…
Since when was the Dragon Gate closed?
"Ah?"
Shang Xuan raised an eyebrow in surprise as his gaze narrowed onto a rapidly flickering mortal soul speeding across the bridge. The Flame Ancestor watched with a bemused gaze as the mortal soul zipped past all others to guzzle down the bowl of soup offered by an intern incubus, only to charge directly into the Dragon Gate.
There was no clasp of the portal signifying that the destination's spatial coordinates had been severed, nor did the gate collapse onto the mortal soul and obliterate it. The flickering ball of golden light simply passed through, and vanished.
"This is closed? The Dragon Gate isn't operational as of right now?"
The Flame Ancestor beveled a discompassionate and annoyed glance towards the shameless smile on Meng Po's countenance. The latter chuckled as she threw an unknown pepper of grey color into the massive vat of boiling water, patting her hands as she turned to face Shang Xuan.
"Why, it's not closed for that poor little youth, Zhao Yun," Meng Po tapped the ladle in her hand against the back of her palm.
"He saved his ruler's reign over his country in exchange for his undying and brutal service until death! Now, the poor soul can enjoy a lovely century of an endless harem of beauties, pleasures, and peace until he returns to this bridge."
"The Dragon Gate is open for a brat that did practically nothing – a feat that is easily surpassed by anyone that survives for longer than three decades in your Pain and Origin Gates?"
Shang Xuan's disbelief soared towards the sky. The Flame Ancestor pointed towards his chest with a delicate finger, the youth's countenance tinged with an expression of pleading and threatening as he gazed at the Spirit Transference.
"Then what about me? This Ancestor gave the concept of fire to the Three Realms as well as participate in its forging, shouldn't I be at least entitled to one vaca-"
"Ahem! The Dragon Gate can't support the excellence of an Ancestor; it requires a sufficient upgrade in quality to be compatible with a soul on our caliber."
Meng Po's shameless smile rose magnified as she eagerly awaited the Flame Ancestor's reply as though she were a young girl. Shang Xuan's brows twitched, his heart quickly catching onto the ploy.
This shameless old woman; mahjong table or the Spiritual Conflux, she always had to extort people!
"…what do you want? I want a vacation of at least a century."
The Flame Ancestor didn't even have to wait to receive Meng Po's reply. The old woman leapt with a joyful whoop, her eyes twinkling with an avaricious gaze.
"One century, for four Bloody Mary's a month!"
Four!?
The youth's lips trembled at the demand raised by the Spirit Transference, his heart bleeding at the troubles bound to slap his countenance in the future. Shang Xuan's mouth opened in disbelief, his outraged voice echoing throughout the Spiritual Conflux and causing the mortal souls to tremble with fear.
"Four Bloody Mary's a month!? My dear Old Meng, are you trying to get this Ancestor sanctioned from the Three Realms!?"
That's way too goddamn much of an extortion!
Meng Po's countenance dimmed at the obvious rejection from the Flame Ancestor, before her lips quirked into a crafty smile. The Seventh Ancestor, the Spirit Transference, pointed towards the exit of the Spiritual Conflux, her gnarled finger twitching with exceptional schadenfreude.
"My dear Flame Ancestor, there's always the mahjong table if you wish to ease the upgrade fee, ah. Just complete Old Chuyan's stake first, and everything can be settled!"
Leave the Spiritual Conflux… and have to encounter that tremendously irritating and annoying little lass and her unbelievable and deranged delusion of taking him as her husband?
At the point, the Flame Ancestor made the decision even though his heart gushed with torrential rivers of blood.
"A hundred and twenty years at the minimum! And I get to bring along three… no – four flame spirits with me!"
Deal!
Meng Po slapped her aged hand onto the top of her wooden cane in excitement, her motions unlike that of an aged woman as they reeked not only of greed, but of agitated vigor. The old woman's heart blossomed with joy, her lips curling as she thought of her unexpected profits.
Hell, the Water Ancestor had come here under the Wind Ancestor's gambit to find herself potential suitors for a husband or concubine; she had obtained a fantastic deal of three Spatial Flux Stones per year for a period of a hundred years.
But Shang Xuan's deal gave her a profit of four Bloody Mary's a month!
Ah, now she could go and gamble freely with that demon of an Ancestor…