The sound of clanging echoed. I stood quietly before the Styx Gate. The once desolate gateway was now paved with stone slabs, and carriages passed through in an orderly fashion. Countless shackled ghosts, burdened with stones, were herded by Hell's Registrars toward the depths of the underworld.
In the distance, I saw rows of black pillars. There were two beside the Styx Gate. I instantly moved next to one. The pitch-black pillar could block ghostly aura—this surprised me greatly, as such things shouldn't exist in the Ghostrealm.
What shocked me even more was the density of ghostly aura before the Styx Gate—it was far greater than before and flowed like wind. This thick ghostly aura swept past me. I examined the black pillars closely; their ability to block ghostly aura was crucial. Like barriers, they gathered the aura together and directed it toward the Ghostrealm.
These pillars were arranged in neat rows from afar, continuously channeling ghostly aura in this direction, and from above, not below. Many ordinary ghosts, when exposed to such concentrated ghostly aura, found their bodies eroded by it.
Now, the ghostly aura resembled nourishing spring rain, forming a strange protective membrane over the ground. Occasionally, high-quality ghostly aura would fall from the sky, nourishing the ghosts below.
Looking into the distance, the Ghostrealm now had many new buildings. Pools of molten lava glowed red, and countless ghosts were busy forging weapons and armor. I noticed the souls brought from the wide Underworld Path; upon arriving at the Styx Gate, the lead Hell's Registrar began shouting.
"Remember what I told you—if you don't want to suffer in hell, work hard for me. Once you've done enough, you can reach Reincarnation."
Many ghosts nodded gratefully, some even joked about the construction of the Ghostrealm, unaware of the true reason for their labor. Just then, a blue ghost ran over, shouting repeatedly.
"Any ghost with skilled hands, come with me."
He shouted again and again. Among the newly arrived ghosts, a few stepped forward. The blue ghost quickly tagged them with numbered badges. I felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if I'd seen this before. Suddenly, I was startled.
"Isn't this Lord Wraith's power?"
I looked back in confusion at the two Hell Judges who had followed Mingde and Liaochen over. After they arrived, Cui Jue began to speak.
Due to the unique nature of Lord Wraith's ghost soul, the Underworld Court quickly found him and had him use his power to mark these spirits with numbers. Now that Lord Wraith works for the Underworld Court, countless ghosts are branded and numbered, so when problems arise, it's easy to trace the source.
I snorted coldly, watching those ecstatic people follow the ghost officials. All they had to do was work, and they got two meals a day—Hell seemed much easier for many of the younger spirits. Their bodies were quietly changing, and with the established channels for ghost energy, some might become full ghosts in just two or three days.
"You really spared no expense."
I muttered, as one fierce ghost after another flew past us. Each had a pale green number on their face—there must have been over a hundred, all carrying bundles of goods.
No wonder these fierce ghosts obeyed orders. They were stronger than most ghost officials and wore no shackles, because they'd already been infused with Lord Wraith's power. If they disobeyed, Lord Wraith's power would erupt and kill them instantly.
Now the Underworld Court could act freely, and with Lord Wraith's help, any ordinary ghost branded with a number was easily controlled. I knew this well—if they dared defy orders, they would die.
Back when I went to rescue Rachel Lan, I entered Wraith City after Ethan Zhang and the others, but I learned far more than they did. It was then that I truly understood what the Dread Green Ghosts were. Each had a unique ghost soul, capable of things beyond ordinary ghost powers. I now suspect it's this uniqueness that allows ghosts to awaken their instinctive powers.
Just then, I heard footsteps—something was running. As I turned, a thick mist rolled in, and I saw a blue-gray beast: Di Ting. Mingde smiled and made a Buddhist gesture.
"Amitabha."
Di Ting came before us, glaring at me at first, then turned and walked away slowly. The white, hazy mist began to close in around us.
"Benefactor Zhang, come with me. Liaochen, wait here."
Mingde spoke. I looked at Liaochen, who stared at me in confusion. Then the two Hell Judges stepped back. I followed Mingde into the thick mist, with Di Ting silently leading the way. Just now, I wasn't sure if I'd imagined it, but when Di Ting saw Liaochen, it seemed to do something.
Mingde and I followed Di Ting into the mist. We couldn't see or feel anything around us. Gradually, I sensed something strange. As the fog lifted, I saw the distant horizon—sky and earth seemed to merge. The Saint of the Underworld stood on the crystal-clear water, eyes closed, wearing a blue-gray monk's robe. I watched ripples spread beneath my feet, feeling a strange comfort, as if the place itself was a realm—clean, pure, and gently warm.
Mingde approached, bowed first, then stood aside with his head slightly lowered, murmuring something under his breath.
[Irrelevant system line removed.]
"Amitabha. Great Saint of the Underworld, Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, this humble monk greets you."
After a complex and lengthy ritual of worship, I saw the two of them sit cross-legged. I lay down directly on the water's surface. Not far away, Di Ting crawled quietly.
"Your purpose for coming here is already clear to me. Mingde, all things are born, all are bound by fate. See through, let go, be free—now, what stage have you reached?"
"I dare not deceive the Bodhisattva. This humble monk has not let go, nor found freedom."
I stared at them, lost in thought. At first, all was calm, but as Mingde finished speaking, I saw the water beneath him grow murky, darkening. Di Ting rose and walked over slowly.
"There are eight sufferings in life: birth, aging, sickness, death; separation from loved ones; prolonged resentment; unfulfilled desires; and the inability to let go. Tell me, what difference is there between humans and all things?"
Mingde shook his head and sighed softly.
"Fate is shaped by oneself, appearance by the heart. All things in the world are transformations of form. If the heart is unmoved, all things are unmoved; if the heart is unchanged, all things are unchanged. My current state of mind is too weak to bear the burden, so I cannot let go, and without letting go, I cannot be free. Bodhisattva, as humans, where should we go from here?"
"From where you came, so shall you return. Now, none of this can be resolved by a single word of 'Buddha,' nor by mere transcendence and freedom. What is before you is real, and what lies beyond closed eyes is also real. You cannot dissolve it, nor sever it. You worry that your decisions will implicate the entire Buddhist order."
Mingde nodded.
"Bodhisattva, this humble monk is weak and cannot bear all this. I beg the Bodhisattva to grant me a Buddhist decree."
But soon, the Saint of the Underworld shook his head.
"The answer has long been within you, Mingde. The chaotic world is boundless, without beginning or end, stretching on and on. Some can see, some cannot; some understand, some remain confused. So it is with this matter—though everything is swept into it, as humans, where should you go from here?"
Mingde hummed in response.
"Bodhisattva, I think I understand, but..."
Mingde turned to look at me, a trace of helplessness in his eyes. I stood and walked over slowly.
"So you've made up your mind. The Buddhist order will join the war—of course. Forget all those meaningless things you mentioned. If you keep trying to stay in the middle, the Underworld Court won't look kindly on you. Saving all beings is just an illusion, anyway. Hmph, Saint of the Underworld, what is wrong with the Heavenly Dao?"
I asked, recalling what the Golden-furred Hou had told me earlier: both Buddhism and Daoism need someone to act as a medium for the Heavenly Dao, to transfer the ever-growing power into the Human Realm, and then use humanity's strength to disperse it among the Six Paths. This could stabilize the Sixfold Cycle System, but the problem might be far more complex.
At that moment, both the Saint of the Underworld and Mingde closed their eyes in silence. Annoyed, I turned to leave, but a rough voice called out from behind me.
"Earth Soul, wait—let me tell you."
It was Di Ting's voice—he finally spoke. Di Ting rushed to my side, and I stared at him; he seemed to bear no hostility toward me.
"Let's go somewhere else. Those two are still talking."
Suddenly, the ground beneath my feet vanished, startling me. I quickly regained my balance as Di Ting dove into the water. I dropped through a hole that opened below me, landing on a rugged expanse of rock. All around were volcanoes—it looked like a sector of Hell, with many ghosts working the land.
"But you really surprised me, Earth Soul. You actually gave up on killing Liaochen. You had the power, but you let go. Why?"
I looked at Di Ting in confusion. He lay beside me, staring intently. I smiled and said:
"Looks like you already know."