The seven Ghost Sovereigns before me were already starting to fade, their bodies growing transparent as their ghostly energy leaked away. I still couldn’t fully grasp how evil was extracted and transformed into the environment that torments the prisoners here. Most crucially, I didn’t understand the rules behind it all.
Does this Abyssal Hell possess a will of its own?
I asked, and the Wraithlord shook his head beside me.
Rules are just distinctions people make—definitions that divide one thing from another. The laws of all things work the same way. They differ from person to person, yet somehow remain the same. Have you noticed something? The lost souls here are all steeped in heavy malice.
The Wraithlord’s words made me nod immediately.
Indeed, the lost souls here are saturated with malice. They are all guilty of monstrous crimes, cursed with extreme evil. Each one likely carries the burden of countless deaths.
But what matters most is that their consciousness remains intact. What I can’t understand is why some of these souls still resist the daily torment instead of begging for mercy. Such prolonged torture would be utterly brutal for anyone with awareness. Wouldn’t their minds eventually break?
What if their memories lasted only seven days? What do you think then?
I shot the Wraithlord a disgruntled look—he always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.
The Wraithlord smiled and continued speaking.
The lost souls confined here retain their consciousness, but their memories are periodically extracted—usually every seven days. The places where their bodies are stored are also where their memories are taken. Once their minds are filled with seven days’ worth of memories, those memories are removed, making each round of torment and pain feel agonizingly fresh.
My attention shifted to John Chou and the others. At this point, the seven Ghost Sovereigns were too weak to attempt anything. Each looked desperately frail, and none could leave the cave. Meanwhile, the lost souls stored inside suddenly revived, and a few of them began to laugh.
Looks like we’ve got newcomers.
One of them sneered as he spoke.
We’ve only been here three days. This place is hellish—wait until those damned Hell’s Registrars show up again to drag us out.
Suddenly, John Chou turned to look at the lost soul and then started laughing.
You really just arrived three days ago?
Many of the revived lost souls started talking—some had only been here two days, others five or six. The torture had already driven some to despair, and they kept voicing their pain. For them, this ordeal was almost unbearable.
As the conversation continued, the lost souls expressed their hopelessness toward the Hell’s Registrars and everything here. But John Chou seemed deep in thought. The seven Ghost Sovereigns were growing weaker by the minute—if they didn’t come up with a plan soon, they’d die from exhaustion. Though they’d revive with renewed strength, if the Hell’s Registrars discovered them during that time, their plan would be ruined.
But soon, many lost souls began muttering in confusion. Normally, the Hell’s Registrars would have come by now to drag them out and dump them in the forest, but it had already been nearly an hour, and there was still no sign of them.
Red-haired’s face turned ashen as he looked at the twenty or thirty lost souls behind him. The seven Ghost Sovereigns were nearly at their limit, on the verge of death.
Do you want release?
Suddenly, John Chou gave a wicked grin and looked at the lost souls. Many of them began to whimper—death was impossible here. Even if they died, they would revive and continue to suffer. For them, death was not an escape.
Ha! Death is out of the question. I tried yesterday—no matter how you die, you just wake up again in these caves, only to be tormented all over.
Suddenly, John Chou stood up, his eyes shedding blood-red particles. The other six Ghost Sovereigns noticed as these crimson motes drifted into the lost souls, who quickly weakened and collapsed.
I have a way to set you free.
John Chou’s eyes burned red as he stared coldly at the lost souls. Suddenly, Red-haired stared in shock.
So there’s another way? You should’ve said so earlier, you bastard, John Chou.
Just then, Basil Bertram suddenly walked over, grabbed a lost soul, and tore its body to pieces. Then he opened his mouth and, using his ghostly energy, compressed the soul’s body down to the size of a fist, and swallowed it whole. The other Ghost Sovereigns quickly followed suit.
Amidst the constant sobbing and screams, I stared in shock at the scene before me. Every lost soul in the cave was devoured, and the Ghost Sovereigns’ ghostly energy began to recover, even growing stronger.
I stared at the scene in shock—not that I thought they were incapable of such acts, but because ghost cannibalism, while not unheard of, is usually pointless. Most powerful ghosts won’t bother devouring weaker ones, since it brings no real benefit.
The quality of the lost souls here far surpasses even John Chou and his companions, all because of the effects of long-term confinement.
The Wraithlord explained. Sure enough, John Chou and the others soon regained their solid forms. But then, from afar, a string of curses echoed—two Hell’s Registrars approached.
Immediately, Basil Bertram used his power to make all seven of them appear as corpses, each torn apart to varying degrees, scattered throughout the cave.
Damn it, which bastard spread the word? We can’t find them anywhere.
A Green Warden muttered, while the Blue Warden beside him sighed.
Probably a private fight—they didn’t want us to see, so maybe they’re hiding in some cave or underground. The place is huge and complicated; searching is a pain. Forget it, let’s just get on with torturing the prisoners.
The two Hell’s Registrars arrived at the cave entrance, but when they saw the state inside, both looked puzzled.
Why are there only seven prisoners left out of more than twenty?
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The Green Warden spoke while the Blue Warden searched around, noticing that some patches of grass were regrowing and that prisoners in the distance were still being tormented.
Maybe they ran off on their own—saves us the trouble. Let’s go have a drink.
The Blue Warden said, but the Green Warden still entered the cave, inspecting it and sniffing the air.
Why does it smell so strongly of blood?
Soon, the two Hell’s Registrars left. All the while, John Chou was watching their every move as they departed. Their feet never touched the ground, and none of the plants harmed them.
Only after the Hell’s Registrars had vanished into the forest did the seven Ghost Sovereigns finally relax.
Normally, they’re no different from the lost souls here. The things in this place should burn them, but somehow, they’re completely unaffected. That’s strange—Registrars in other hells are always cautious, since hell itself can harm them.
Basil Bertram spoke calmly, while the other Ghost Sovereigns pondered. Suddenly, it seemed they all had the same idea.
Let’s try catching a Registrar and eating it—just like John Chou suggested.
Red-haired spoke, and the Ghost Sovereigns began to recuperate. Though their ghostly energy had increased, the longer they stayed here, the more it was drained away.
Until they found a workable solution, the Ghost Sovereigns decided to stay in the cave for now. But next time they needed to replenish their ghostly energy, they couldn’t devour so many ghosts at once, or it would arouse suspicion. As long as they could survive, they’d have time to find a real solution.
Sure enough, the two Hell’s Registrars soon returned, clearly troubled, and hurried toward the cave. Instantly, all the Ghost Sovereigns opened their eyes, ready to act—but the Registrars bypassed the cave and headed deeper into the forest.
This is all your fault for drinking! I told you something was off. Now look, we lost twenty-one lost souls—how are we supposed to explain this?
The Green Warden complained, while the Blue Warden could only clutch his head and apologize. Soon the two Hell’s Registrars left again, and John Chou and the others got up and looked around.
We can’t stay here any longer.
The Ghost Sovereigns had eaten all the lost souls in the cave because they were on the brink of death. With Lord Shenyan leading the way, John Chou and his group soon found another cave with lost souls inside—but most of them were talking among themselves.
Helpless, Lord Shenyan had to take a detour, and the whole group moved slowly. To outsiders, they now looked like Hell’s Registrars.
At last, they reached a cave filled with forty or fifty corpses of lost souls. After entering, Lord Shenyan leaned wearily against the wall.
When the first one revives, John Chou, use your power quickly to help Lord Shenyan recover.
As soon as they sat down, Red-haired couldn’t wait and spoke up. Then he glanced over at Basil Bertram.