Nether Bureau

Wrongful Death City.

A muddy yellow river flowed before the city. The sky was dark, and green lanterns burned by the gates.

Rows of commoners and cultivators returning from harvesting the flesh fields wore the same pale, numb expressions as they filed into Wrongful Death City.

Fang Zhenya had taken the form of the cultivator he had killed earlier. With a bamboo basket full of Blood-Flesh Fruit grown on the Buddha's body strapped to his back, he entered the city.

"This city is enormous... I'd estimate a hundred thousand people. Mortals and cultivators live side by side..."

His eyes flickered as he looked around, a chill settling in his heart.

If what that man said was true, and there are only ten cities like Wrongful Death City, doesn't that mean the population is just a million? Less than a single Grotto-Heaven?

How did the world become such a ghostly place... No, with ghosts in power, how could it be anything else?

Fang Zhenya glanced about. There were few cultivators with stalls, and most sold white-bone artifacts.

Now and then, there were bottles of purified blood essence.

The mortals treated every cultivator with the utmost deference. Humble as insects, they huddled in corners roasting Blood-Flesh Fruit...

"How much for this artifact?"

Fang Zhenya crouched before a stall and examined a white-bone flying knife.

"Three hundred Fengdu Coins."

The stallkeeper appeared to be at Late Qi Ingestion. Corpulent and deathly pale, he opened his eyes languidly. Their eerie green gleam stirred something in Fang Zhenya's heart. This man... seems to cultivate Tail Fire. Since when did Tail Fire, which represents the flame of new life, become so sinister, so steeped in death? This isn't merely a change in heaven and earth. Even the lineages have changed!

He drew a deep breath and