Hao Ren had no idea what had happened in this town, but he could be certain of one thing: it definitely hadn't been anything good.
The spirits wandering through the town were enough to prove the residents' ultimate fate. They had clearly died long ago—at least several centuries ago. Yet these countless spirits were merely accumulations of "memories." There was no trace of any souls within these hollow echoes of memory. Where had those souls gone?
Nangong Sanba had unexpectedly become the only master of necromancy in the group. Although his combat ability was lacking, during his century-long career as a Demon Hunter, he had dealt with ghosts more than anything else. "Human souls dissipate very quickly. Generally, they can't survive for hundreds of years. But the structure of spirits in this space is more stable than in the outside world, so long-term preservation of souls is possible. There are only two explanations for the 'echoes' around us. Either the townspeople's souls are still imprisoned somewhere in the town, and the soul energy leaking out has produced all sorts of phantoms, or these people endured tremendous torment before death or were controlled by necromantic spells after death. Their memories were forcibly extracted and turned into phantoms that have remained on this land until now."
A chill ran through Hao Ren's heart. He looked up at the house nearest to him. The decayed, ancient building stood silently in the narrow, cramped street. Its pitch-black doors and windows resembled hollow, sinister eyes staring into the shadows of the other buildings. The dark, dust-filled sky pressed down behind the roof, enveloping everything as though it intended to suffocate the entire world. Buildings like this surrounded them on every side. These empty, lifeless houses seemed to have become a curse themselves, imprisoning the people