John Chou and Mr. Brown had completely vanished from sight. Lady Meng stood quietly on the surface of the Bridge of Remorse, smiling faintly.
"This little one called John Chou is rather interesting. That reaction just now was instinct, wasn’t it? I didn’t expect it to be just a shadow—looks like my old eyes are playing tricks on me."
After a moment, a ghost dressed in official robes, radiating a crimson glow, drifted onto the Bridge of Remorse.
"Lady Meng, have you seen..."
"They’ve already jumped into the River of Forgetfulness. They’re just seeking death."
The ghost official in front of her seemed somewhat dissatisfied as he looked at Lady Meng.
"What’s the matter, Judge Cui? Are you upset? You can’t even catch a little ghost, and I have no obligation to help with arrests. After all, I’m not under the jurisdiction of the Underworld Court."
"Yes, Lady Meng. But that person is deeply connected to the destruction of Necropolis. I must catch him and give Judge Samson an explanation."
Suddenly, Judge Cui’s face twisted in anger. He floated up, intending to enter the River of Forgetfulness, but Lady Meng abruptly blocked his way.
"You know the rules, don’t you? Or do you intend to meddle in my domain, Judge Cui?"
Judge Cui kept a stiff face, then sighed helplessly, bowed, and vanished in a streak of red light.
"Your fate is in your own hands now."
Lady Meng smiled, turned around, and walked away from the Bridge of Remorse, step by step.
"Young master, you really are clever. No wonder Mr. Fan has always praised you as a prodigy since you were little!"
John Chou chuckled.
"Mr. Brown, don’t use Ghost Aura, or both of us will die in this river. Swim slowly. When your Ghost Aura is nearly exhausted, rest by the shore for a while."
All around them were bare stone walls; the vast sea of Red Spider Lilies had vanished.
Suddenly, John Chou saw a small stream ahead—the river had split, and its color was strange, a dark green-black.
"Young master, are you going across?"
"If we keep swimming along the River of Forgetfulness, we have no idea where we’ll end up. Let’s check this place out—the water flows slowly here."
The moment they entered the small river, both John Chou and Mr. Brown felt a surge of fighting spirit welling up inside.
"This is strange, Mr. Brown."
Mr. Brown nodded. They gradually passed through the stone walls, which looked as if they’d been carved out with tools. After the turn, they reached a small pond. The water there didn’t consume Ghost Aura—everything seemed normal. The two of them floated up from the water and stepped onto an endless wasteland. Nothing was visible. Nothing could be felt.
The only odd thing was that the water flowing in didn’t increase or overflow. It clearly came from the River of Forgetfulness, but once inside the pond, the water level stayed the same.
John Chou crouched by the riverbank, observing closely. Mr. Brown looked at him, puzzled.
"Young master, stop looking. The dead all look about the same—just like they did when they died. No matter what, you can’t go back to how you were. That handsome face you once had..."
"Mr. Brown, that’s not what I meant. Haven’t you noticed the water flowing in doesn’t raise the water level here?"
Mr. Brown let out a surprised sound and walked over, glancing around casually.
"Maybe there’s a hole under this pond or something."
John Chou shook his head.
"Then why doesn’t the water flowing in move at all? Why is it just still?"
Mr. Brown sighed helplessly.
"You focus too much on these little details, young master. That’s why girls don’t like you."
John Chou stood up, blinking, and looked at Mr. Brown.
"Is that so?"
"Didn’t Miss tell you already?"
"Xue Han never told me that. Doesn’t matter now—we’re dead anyway."
John Chou said as he started walking. After a long while, the surroundings remained just as desolate. The sky was gray, the whole place gloomy. As far as the eye could see, only a wasteland covered in sand and stone, not a blade of grass in sight.
"Young master, why don’t we fly? Let’s see if there are any ghosts around."
John Chou shook his head.
"Mr. Brown, flying would use up a lot of Ghost Aura. If we get exhausted, it’ll take ages to recover, and there’s nothing here for ghosts to eat—not even a trace of Yin Energy."
"Young master, look over there—what’s that?"
Mr. Brown pointed to the left. Something stood out among the scattered stones, and they rushed over.
It looked like a trench—not deep, less than half a meter. It reminded them of that dark green-black stream. Judging by the marks, it had been dug out by hand.
At the bottom of the trench, hand-dug marks were clearly visible. John Chou jumped down, intrigued, and quietly observed for a while.
"It probably leads to the stone wall. If we follow the trench, we might find something."
"Why are you so sure, young master?"
John Chou pointed to the bottom of the trench.
"The handprints are all scraped backward. Can’t you see?"
"You’re right, young master."
They had already walked a long way. Aside from the dirt piled up on both sides of the trench, all they could see was the endless trench stretching into the distance.
"Young master, what if the person who dug this thing is already dead? If we keep going, after all this effort, we’ll just end up back at the stone walls by the River of Forgetfulness."
John Chou didn’t answer. He kept watching. There was something in the air—a presence he’d never felt before. Soon, Mr. Brown felt it too. Something ahead in the trench sent a chill through their bones.
A crunching sound echoed. Both John Chou and Mr. Brown stopped. A flash of white—a figure.
"It’s a woman."
Mr. Brown looked over, confused. John Chou shot him a glance.
"You’re better at telling men from women than I am, Mr. Brown!"
Mr. Brown shot John Chou a look. They walked over together.
A woman was digging the trench. There was no aura about her—she wasn’t a ghost.
(Irrelevant passage: Reading prompt. Skipped in translation.)
The woman lay on her side in the trench, her hands clawing weakly at the dirt. She wore a tattered white gauze dress, her bare shoulders exposed. Her long, pale legs were caked with mud, hair tied high. From behind, she looked alluring, her posture graceful and soft, like a beauty lying in wait—only missing a seductive glance over her shoulder.
John Chou crouched behind her, watching quietly. Mr. Brown blinked, wanting to walk up and see her face, but John Chou grabbed him.
"Mr. Brown, want to bet? Do you think she’s beautiful or ugly?"
Mr. Brown was about to say 'beautiful,' but seeing John Chou’s mischievous grin, he burst out laughing.
"Definitely ugly. Maybe she just died and looks dazed—can’t be much to look at."
"I disagree. I think she’s got the beauty of a goddess—one who could make flowers shy and fish sink!"
"Miss!"
Mr. Brown called out, but the woman kept digging, as if they didn’t exist. He called several times, but she didn’t react. Then John Chou picked up a small stone and tossed it, hitting her on the head with a thud. Mr. Brown stared at him in shock.
"How could you do that to a woman, young master!"
His voice was full of indignation, but both men were stunned—the woman slowly turned her head.
Slender phoenix brows, a delicate nose, exquisite features. Though her eyes seemed soulless and her body moved like a corpse, her beauty was undeniable—just as John Chou had said.
"Miss, what are you doing here? Where is this place? You..."
Suddenly, John Chou jumped up, his face changing. He kicked Mr. Brown in the stomach, sending him flying.
"What are you doing, young master?"
Mr. Brown just got up, but his face suddenly changed. He floated up, furious.
"Don’t come any closer, Zhuang Xian!"
John Chou roared. His abdomen had already been pierced by a strange, jade-green spear. Blood dripped steadily. The woman’s eyes were cold and merciless, her irises a dark green-black, radiating a chilling murderous intent.
John Chou gripped the spear tightly. The woman smiled, her expression twisted, and then she spoke.
"You seem strong. Come on, fight me—keep killing each other until one of us is destroyed. Hehehe..."
Her voice was cold, dry, and low—unpleasant to hear. John Chou laughed.
"So, you’re not mute. Good. You want a fight? I could use some practice myself."
"What’s your name?"
John Chou stared at the woman.
"Yuna Ji."
With a swish, Yuna Ji flipped backward, landing opposite John Chou.
John Chou clutched his abdomen, half-kneeling on the ground.
"John Chou."
With a flash, Yuna Ji’s spear lunged at him like lightning.
"Young master!"
Mr. Brown shouted, his face anxious as he watched John Chou get knocked away, a hole pierced in his shoulder. Yuna Ji’s face lit up with excitement, as if regaining emotion.
"I told you not to come over. How many times do I have to say it for you to understand, Mr. Brown?"
John Chou slumped to the ground, speaking weakly as he glanced around.
"Wait."
Yuna Ji paused, her spear pointed at John Chou’s throat.
"You have a weapon, and I don’t. If we’re going to fight, it should at least be fair, right?"
Yuna Ji giggled and nodded. With a wave of her hand, nine oddly-shaped weapons appeared in the air. John Chou studied them, then picked up a pair of crimson swords, each over a meter long. He also grabbed a white longsword.
"Ready?"
John Chou weighed the swords in his hands.
"Good swords."
With a whoosh, the weapons vanished. John Chou crouched, Ghost Aura already healing his wounds. He stared at Yuna Ji.
"Let’s begin—the slaughter you’ve been waiting for."