Inside an impossibly spacious circular hall, the walls were dotted with small holes about a meter wide. At the center stood a statue of a coiled serpent. We had been brought to the underground of Serpent City for the Serpent King—he had agreed to help us, but it would take some time. He insisted it all be done without anyone knowing; he didn’t want to get involved.
"This place is so deep. Down here, it’ll be just as easy for others to find us as it was for us to get in,"
Tabby Cat King yawned as he spoke, leaning against the base of the statue.
"What about those dogs?"
I asked, still puzzled about why those ghosts whose sentences weren’t up were sent straight into the Animal Realm. We could never figure out what was really going on.
"Don’t worry. I found plenty of food for them—enough to last a month. But those guys are definitely strange. The ghost aura on them is all wrong."
I sat down, left to keep waiting for the Serpent King’s return. Several hours had passed already. I wanted to ask Tabby Cat King about the Blue Wraiths, but I wasn’t in the mood. What really gnawed at me was the Sanzu Force—why its reincarnation mechanism hadn’t worked for over a thousand years.
"Do you know why the Sanzu Force hasn’t exercised its reincarnation rights for over a thousand years?"
I asked. Tabby Cat King looked at me, then extended a paw, pointing up at the sky.
"Divine Law—that absolute existence. Maybe it’s related. I really don’t know the details; this stuff is beyond imagination. Anyway, I don’t pay much attention to it. All I want is to stir up chaos here and force that rat out."
I glanced sideways at Tabby Cat King. He looked positively delighted.
"Just how deep does your grudge with him go?"
It couldn’t be as simple as not waking up a cat.
"He didn’t wake me up, so I hold it against him."
I swallowed, looking at Tabby Cat King.
"Seriously, that’s it?"
"What else did you expect? For ages, cats have been seen as omens of misfortune, while those twelve get all the glory. Hah—what a lousy deal for us!"
I didn’t press further. In those black-green eyes, I caught a flash of sadness.
"Whatever, it’s all in the past. I just can’t stand that guy. He never lets me see him. I’ve searched for him for years, and every time, he plays cat-and-mouse with me. No matter what I do, I can never catch him—he always slips away first. I just want to catch that damned rat and eat him."
Just then, there was a rustling sound. We turned to the left wall, where the Serpent King slithered in through a hole. By the time he reached us, he had already grown arms and legs.
"How’s it going?"
Tabby Cat King asked, eyes wide, looking unimpressed.
"Doesn’t this have nothing to do with you?"
"Dragging this out isn’t good. You’d better think of something fast!"
The Serpent King nodded, then said:
"I haven’t found Bullhorn’s ghost domain yet, but it shouldn’t be hard to locate. Just give me some time and wait here patiently. I’ll bring food in every day—don’t go out. If you’re discovered, everything will be ruined."
As he spoke, the Serpent King waved his hand and produced a wooden bucket. I leaned over and saw it was full of white bird eggs. I swallowed.
"For now, eat these to replenish your ghost aura. They’ll restore quite a bit."
Tabby Cat King had already come over.
"You really are clever—how did you know I love these?"
With that, Tabby Cat King stretched out his tongue, scooping up a bunch of bird eggs and swallowing them whole—shells and all.
In just a few minutes, Tabby Cat King had eaten every egg in the bucket. He wiped his mouth, and I swallowed.
"What about mine?"
I blinked. Tabby Cat King glanced at me and gave a disdainful little laugh.
"Why weren’t you quicker?"
Just as I was about to speak, the Serpent King stopped me.
"I’ll get you some bamboo later."
I raised my hand and waved.
"I want to eat."
Just then, the Serpent King turned to leave, but I called out to him.
"Can you tell me why there’s been no reincarnation here for over a thousand years?"
The Serpent King cocked his head, giving me a sideways glance.
"Even if you knew, what good would it do?"
"I want to know everything."
I looked seriously at the Serpent King. In his cold, gold-red eyes, I caught a hint of confusion. After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"The River of Forgetfulness can no longer cleanse souls."
I stared in shock, eyes wide.
"Don’t souls have their seven emotions and six desires sealed in the Forest of Desire after drinking Lady Meng’s Elixir?"
The Serpent King nodded.
"You should remember, right? Or maybe you saw something when you died?"
In a flash, I remembered taking a blow for Yuna Ji—killed instantly by Tan Tian. My soul was scattered, and I ended up on the banks of the River of Forgetfulness, about to merge into it. But then I met Lady Meng, washing clothes at the river—a black garment she couldn’t get clean, no matter how hard she tried.
I’d even asked Lady Meng why she kept washing. She never answered.
"How do you know about that?"
Then it hit me—it must be the Spirit Snake connection. That’s why the Serpent King knew everything about me.
"Lady Meng’s Elixir only washes away the seven emotions and six desires of the soul for this life. After entering the River of Forgetfulness, the soul needs to be cleansed a second time. The soul itself is pure, but the po is the source of all filth. So when we talk about cleansing the soul, it’s really the po we’re purifying. Only when every impurity is gone can you enter reincarnation. But now, the River of Forgetfulness can’t cleanse anything. After so many years, the soul-washing water has dried up, and the dead keep piling up. Human souls are especially hard to clean, and the passage to reincarnation was never meant to allow even the tiniest impurity. Anything less than pure can’t enter the Sanzu Force."
[Irrelevant system message—skip translation.]
I swallowed, then the Serpent King continued.
At that time, I should have been completely dead. Lady Meng wanted to send me straight into reincarnation, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t purge the impurities from my soul. In the end, she had no choice but to let me live.
The soul-washing water from the River of Forgetfulness used to flow into a vast, endless place. As the filthy water gathered, it formed a sea—an empty space separating the shadow world from the Underworld Court. Over time, it became the Styx Sea.
But more than a thousand years ago, the soul-washing water dried up. To this day, the Underworld Court still doesn’t know why. Without it, souls can’t be purified, and impure souls can’t enter the Sanzu Force.
But with so many souls in hell, it’s overcrowded. To solve this, some who’ve served their sentences are sent straight to the Animal Realm or Hungry Ghost Realm, while the worst offenders are thrown into the Hell Realm.
The rest have to either serve longer sentences or just live in the Spirit Realm. The simplest way is to bribe a ghost warden—this has been common practice for ages.
To let these ghosts be released properly and avoid falling into the Three Evil Paths, most judges turn a blind eye to bribery. It’s an unwritten rule, but really, it’s just the Underworld Court’s way of dealing with overcrowding in hell.
Most ghosts nearing the end of their sentence don’t want to reincarnate—they’ve heard it takes ages. So they either stay in hell or try to become animals in the Animal Realm, hoping that’s a quicker path to rebirth.
That’s why most ghosts choose to settle in the Spirit Realm. Most have a limited lifespan, and after death they move on to the shadow world, sparing the Underworld Court the trouble.
For nearly a thousand years, the Underworld Court has used this method to keep hell stable. Souls who want to reincarnate have to go through the Animal Realm or Hungry Ghost Realm, but most end up in the Animal Realm.
Once there, you hear the rumor: only those who survive in the Animal Realm might get a chance to reincarnate. So countless ghosts become animals, starting a long, hard life, always waiting for rebirth—but most will never get it, no matter how long they wait.
"What you’re doing is cruel! The reincarnation system was built by the Underworld Court!"
I finally couldn’t hold back and shouted. Tabby Cat King burst out laughing, stroking his whiskers.
"I knew it—the River of Forgetfulness is the problem. So the soul-washing water dried up. Now there’s nothing to be done. Even the Animal Realm and Hungry Ghost Realm are overcrowded, aren’t they?"
Tabby Cat King asked, but the Serpent King didn’t answer. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally nodded.
"It’s just as he said—the problems beneath the surface can’t be suppressed anymore. Sooner or later, they’ll explode. The Underworld Court is searching for a fix, but right now, war is about to break out. Maybe that will solve some of it."
I stared, eyes wide, growing angry.
"So that’s it—the Underworld Court doesn’t want to negotiate. They plan to use this war to cut down the number of ghosts, don’t they?"
Tabby Cat King burst out laughing. The Serpent King said nothing, remaining silent.
"That’s not what rulers of ghosts should do. It’s reckless and cruel."
The Serpent King looked at me and asked in return:
"Then tell me, Zhang Qingyuan—how can we give all these countless ghosts a place to belong? What would happen if they were allowed to remain in the living world?"