At that moment, a commotion arose outside. Several drunken Wardens stumbled over and peered into the pit, but as expected, saw nothing unusual.
"I thought it was some kind of ghost. Still not recovered? I really don’t get why the higher-ups sent these guys down here."
One of the Green Wardens muttered, while the Yellow Warden beside him burst out laughing.
"Yeah, my favorite are those who never repent, especially the stubborn ones. It’s so much fun to torment them until they scream. These guys look like tough nuts, but I bet they won’t last long—their bodies are so thin, and they haven’t come back to life yet."
Sure enough, under the influence of Basil Bertram’s power, these Wardens could only see the seven of them—John Chou and company—as still unrecovered.
What I saw, however, was the true appearance of the Ghost Sovereigns. They were leaning against the wall, just as John Chou had instructed, because this place absorbs ghost energy, gradually draining the strength of any ghost who enters. When a ghost dies here, that energy is returned to the Registrars, leaving the ghosts powerless and at the mercy of these officials.
So no ghost ever grows stronger here—their ghost energy never increases, death is a constant companion. I looked at the seven Ghost Sovereigns with some unease. If I were in such a harsh environment, I doubt I’d fare any better.
"Did John Chou really predict from the start that the Underworld would sentence them straight to Abyssal Hell?"
I asked, while the Ghost Ancestor sat cross-legged beside me, his gaze nostalgic as he looked at everything before him.
"Back when I saw these seven enter, I sensed they were special—not just because their ghost souls were unique, but also because they possessed different powers. That’s why I paid attention to them, hoping to see something different in them."