The Mortal Realm is Like a Prison

This upheaval of heaven and earth came without raging winds or torrential rain, without mountains collapsing or earth splitting apart.

It was the very rules governing all things under heaven that had warped and distorted.

The blazing sunlight spilling from the sky suddenly turned icy enough to pierce the bone, causing strange frost flowers to crystallize across the air and ground.

The streams formed from pooled foul blood turned as thick and black as ink, stretching into threads as they leaped, exuding a stench of decay.

Even the scattered Di weapons—scimitars, spears, arrows—seemed to have gained sentience, trembling faintly and letting out sinister, wicked chuckles without anyone touching them.

Most terrifying of all were the dead—or not yet fully dead—Di soldiers. Their wounds no longer bled; instead, thick black mist, dense as oil, billowed from them.

The moment this black mist appeared, it rapidly gathered, transforming into real ghostly figures—twisted and blurred, their faces savage, brimming with the venomous resentment of the dead common folk.

These ghosts did not attack the other surviving civilians. Like bloodthirsty piranhas, they shrieked soundlessly and lunged madly at the living Di soldiers.

"Ugh, aaahhh!"

"What is this?! Get away! Get the hell away!"

"Ghosts! They're ghosts! Help! Save me!"

"Pain! It hurts so much! Don't bite me, don't eat me!"

Faced with the ghosts' assault, the living Di soldiers instantly broke down.

They did not collapse from guilt at having slaughtered innocents.

Rather, the instant these ghosts drew close, overwhelming pain and terror somehow seized both the souls and bodies of the Di soldiers.

The Di soldiers found that pain and terror both familiar and strange.

For they were the makers of that pain and terror, while the dead people of the Central Plains had been its bearers.

This was karmic retribution.

A bloody