The Underworld.
Fish lanterns guided souls home; cold food and wheat rice stayed cold through the night...
The Yin Wind could not scatter the hazy ashes. Cries and sobs rose, all for the hope of a letter from home.
Because Hell had been thrown into turmoil, wicked ghosts spilled out everywhere. Ghost Generals and ghost soldiers bristled with killing intent, yin soldiers covered the land. When a great calamity descended, where could any paradise apart from the world be found? Order had vanished, returning to primordial chaos.
Across the gray wilderness, crowds of ghosts wandered numbly in one direction.
Men, women, old, young—there was no distinction of rank, wealth, or poverty. They staggered onward in confusion, knowing neither where they were going nor how long they would walk. There was no Bridge of Helplessness, no Looking Home Stone, and still less a bowl of Meng Po's Soup to make them forget everything. There was nothing.
Among the countless bleak gray figures was one ghost unlike the rest.
A little girl of ten.
She was neither confused nor numb, and still retained her Spiritual Intelligence. She clutched something tightly to her chest. Her tiny figure hurried, then ran, circling before one Ghostly Entity after another to inspect them carefully, as though searching for someone. She searched the vast sea of souls and refused to stop.
As she passed a huge, withered tree that stood dry and crooked, the little girl looked at it curiously. It was the first tree she had seen since arriving in the underworld.
Its trunk was covered in scars and scorch marks, while its Tree Heart had been carved and gouged full of holes by countless sharp tools...
She did not know that this withered tree had stood here for hundreds of millions of years.
After looking