Zhou Sheng slowly turned his head and saw a scorched face.
Half of the man's face looked like charcoal, and wisps of black smoke even rose from his throat as he spoke. His entire body gave off the smell of something roasted black.
Only his bell-like eyes shot forth two terrifyingly vicious glints as they sized Zhou Sheng up and down.
Zhou Sheng swept his gaze around and discovered that it was not just this man—everyone else was scorched black as well, and pairs of crimson eyes had settled upon him.
An ordinary person would likely have been frightened half to death by now, but Zhou Sheng remained calm and composed, without revealing the slightest flaw.
"Yes, I just died."
"How did you die?"
The scorched burly man continued questioning him, suspicion in his eyes as he moved several steps closer to Zhou Sheng.
Though he could not smell the scent of a living person, seeing Zhou Sheng's smooth, tender skin only made the vicious glint in his eyes fiercer. Jealousy surged in his heart, and flame-like patterns immediately emerged across his charcoal-like skin, producing even more black smoke.
"The way I died has a lot to do with you."
Zhou Sheng looked at him and said lightly.
At those words, even the black smoke rising from the burly man's body froze. He subconsciously asked, "What does it have to do with me?"
He did not know this person at all.
Zhou Sheng's eyes narrowed slightly. Though he had not used the eye technique of Yin Opera, the Dharma Eye he had opened remained sharp as a sword, keen as lightning.
He stared directly into those violent crimson eyes and, before the gathered ghosts, enunciated every word. "Yes, what does it have to do with you?"
"What the hell are