Just as Lord Shenyan had said, many Hell Wardens had vanished, rushing off to the icy blue hell to the west.
"What exactly is going on? How could just one sentence from you make them all run over there?"
Redmond asked in utter puzzlement. John Chou seemed to grasp something, but Lord Shenyan offered no explanation. He led the group toward the vast green forest to the north.
"Hey, hey, Lord Shenyan is asking you a question, you know?"
"Can’t you just shut your mouth for a moment?"
Yvonne May, unable to tolerate it any longer, spoke coldly. Redmond, disappointed, fell silent.
"I suppose it’s because fighting here is hardly a common occurrence."
Basil Bertram commented. After a moment, Lord Shenyan spoke up. While drinking with six or seven Hell Wardens, he’d heard them mention fights several times—usually drunken brawls among the Wardens. These drew crowds so large even the condemned souls came to watch.
After all, such things almost never happened. Most of the Hell Wardens had known each other for nearly a thousand years, all stationed in the same place with no chance of promotion. Their food and drink were delivered by the Underworld at regular times, always enough. With nowhere to spend money, there was no reason for disputes over interests.
So Lord Shenyan spoke of seeing two Hell Wardens in the icy blue hell arguing over a trivial matter in an empty spot, which escalated into a fight. They said they’d settle it while no one was around, with the loser having to obey the winner. Word of this quickly spread.
Right now, many Ghost Messengers have already crossed over to that side. After all, there’s truly nothing enjoyable to be found here. For those condemned to endless torment, even the Ghost Messengers have long grown numb to this place. Yet the daily routine remains, and it’s not just the Ghost Messengers—countless lost souls have crossed over as well.
Gradually, the seven Ghost Sovereigns reached the edge of the forest. Scattered around were stone tables and benches, with remnants of food left on them. The seven sat down and ate and drank with urgency. Time was pressing—they had to find a place to hide. At most, the power of Ethan Zhang could only last for three days. That meant, after three days, they absolutely could not be discovered by the Ghost Messengers.
Trying to hide in this endless hell of torment is difficult. Many places here are dangerous for lost souls. After a while, the seven Ghost Sovereigns finished eating and drinking. They stood up, looking toward the lush, twisted forest ahead, and began to move forward.
The moment we stepped into the forest, I noticed the grass on the ground starting to lean toward us, clustering together. Ethan Zhang immediately became alert and told everyone to stop moving forward.
"What are these things?"
Red Fur spoke, and now all the Ghost Sovereigns could see it. Not far away, the ground was littered with lost souls. The grass on the ground was like blades, binding those souls, slicing into their flesh bit by bit. Some lost souls had already died, their bodies cut into dense fragments.
"Don’t go in for now."
Ethan Zhang spoke, and everyone took notice. It wasn’t just the grass—many strange trees could also harm people. Some of the trees were slowly leaning in, their shapes like mouths, nibbling at the lost souls. Fresh blood splattered, and some souls wailed in agony.
There were also vine-like plants wrapping around some souls. The black, needle-like thorns pierced into their bodies, slowly sucking something from them. The bound souls couldn’t move, only able to let out weak moans as their bodies dried up bit by bit.
"This is truly cruel. Such torment kills you little by little, making you feel more and more fear and despair, forcing you to experience it over and over again."