The Underworld Emissaries and Ghost Soldiers fled without a word, with the Ghost General running fastest of all.
The farther from the Bridge of Helplessness and River Nai, the better. They could not spare a thought for the escorted yin souls and Ghostly Entities. To run faster, they even threw away their clubs and iron chains, scattering in all directions with the Bridge of Helplessness as the center. A small number of yin souls stood about in bewilderment; some turned and ran back the way they had come, thinking they could return to the Yang World, while more simply spun in place and drifted about wildly.
The monk walked forward step by composed step, Magic Staff in hand.
When he reached the bridgehead, he stopped.
Neither sorrowful nor joyful, his gaze was tranquil and still. After many years, the two sides had met again.
He had just been about to speak.
"Stop, stop, stop, stop..."
The saber-carrying girl spoke first, waving her hands repeatedly. Then the two similar-looking girls wore speechless expressions, clutching their heads, sighing, and rolling their eyes. The stall-setting girl put away her stool and stood up, while the saber-carrying girl turned toward River Nai's Forgotten Stream and spat, causing an Evil Ghost waving both arms to be burned to ashes by her saliva.
The girl who liked setting up stalls vigorously rubbed her face, tipped back her head, and grumbled. Then, gritting her teeth, she muttered several curses under her breath.
She looked wordlessly at the monk, who remained neither sorrowful nor joyful.
"First, no playing with words, and no speaking in vague, ambiguous riddles. Especially not one word of that hollow, flowery rhetoric. Second, don't speak foreign languages. The two of us aren't mortals—we won't blindly follow just because something sounds unfamiliar and we can't