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The Wrongful-Death City.
This ancient city, standing deep in the underworld, now exudes an even more somber and desolate aura than before.
The dark city walls stood tall and majestic, and the resentment and death emanating from them were almost tangible. Every now and then, a few Ghost Shadow carrying paper lanterns would drift through the walls, seemingly like human guards on patrol.
Deep within the city, in a most silent, dark palace.
The palace was empty and deep, but the eerie atmosphere of the previous "Black Mountain King" was no longer there. He used to paint murals from broken bones, refine living souls into oil, and keep lamps burning eternally.
Naturally, at this point, no demon or ghost dared to linger in this hall.
Only a few palm-sized golden lotuses, appearing from nowhere, floated in mid-air, slowly rotating.
Each lotus flower here radiates a warm yet undeniable golden glow, its petals not at all dazzling. Yet, it seems to contain the weight of mountains and rivers, bearing all things and suppressing the entire void with absolute stability, even causing the pervasive Yin energy to stagnate.
As the ancients said: Earth is solid and heavy, both central and upright. It is still and receptive, and active and expansive, governing the fate of all things.
That is the reason.
Upon closer inspection, however, it was discovered that beneath each golden lotus, a "shadow" was silently suppressed.
These figures are all different in shape.
Some of them exuded a terrifying aura, with black and red energy rising around them like smoke from a wolf's tail. Even though they were suppressed below, they could not hide their ferocious nature.
Some of the Ghost Shadow figures were eerie and ever-changing, their forms constantly shifting between reality and illusion. Sometimes they resembled a frail old man with a crane-feathered cap, sometimes a young boy leading an ox slowly along, and sometimes they were clad in armor, their eyes blazing with fury, like spirited soldiers on the front lines.
Elderly people, children, scholars, soldiers, merchants----
All the faces of the mortal world—men and women, young and old, rich and poor, noble and lowly, bright and dark, good and evil—emerge one after another from that surging, dust-like and mist-like ghost body, only to eventually return to a churning, shapeless shadow.
Even more strikingly, some exuded an ancient and weathered aura, as if a torrent of turbulent waters were rushing down, cleansing the soul, as if they had just been forcibly dragged out from the boundless depths of the River of Oblivion.
They came in all sorts of strange shapes, but without exception, they were all firmly confined within a small space by the seemingly gentle golden lotus radiance.
No matter what methods they used, no matter how fierce or violent they were, whether they glared angrily, closed their eyes to endure, or struggled endlessly, in the end, they still could not shake the golden lotus on top even slightly.
It was all for nothing.
Unable to speak or move, they were like living sculptures in this hall.
A profound silence reigned.
Just then, the two heavy doors of the main hall suddenly and silently swung open.
A figure stepped in; it was none other than the "Old Demon Black Mountain," with his white hair flowing freely. His steps were even, his expression indifferent, and his figure, amidst the interplay of golden light and surrounding darkness within the hall, exuded an even more unfathomable aura of divine might.
Closely following behind him was a skeleton as white as jade, an old Daoist priest now known as Heavenly Corpse.
At this Heavenly Corpse, the vast Yin power that resonated with the Dark Moon around this celestial corpse had been completely contained within its bones. The ghostly fire within its skull burned calmly, its aura serene, and it seemed to have no other thoughts.
Silently following behind the Old Demon Black Mountain, they entered the main hall in the blink of an eye.
Its "gaze," those two points of ghostly fire, was already drawn to the golden lotuses inside the hall, and the various beings suppressed beneath them.
Even without saying a word, a subtle atmosphere of shared misery, yet each standing firm in their own way, spread silently.
Those who had been previously suppressed also received glances from those who looked at them with scrutiny, indifference, or even a meaningful or blatant mockery.
You've finally arrived.
They were all "old acquaintances," and Heavenly Corpse understood that this was roughly the gist of it.
At this moment, even that "face" covered only by bone had managed to conjure a hint of a "bitter smile."
Only the "Old Demon Black Mountain" in front ignored these gazes and walked straight to the still empty "main seat" deep inside the hall.
With each step he took, a new golden lotus quietly emerged from the void, its petals unfurling, exuding the same ancient and rustic charm as the other golden lotuses in the hall, and slowly descending towards the top of the Heavenly Corpse's head.
The jade-colored skeleton paused slightly, as if it wanted to speak.
But in the end, she made no move to resist, letting the small golden lotus hang three feet above her head, scattering rays of mysterious light, freezing her figure in place, returning her to silence, and making her one of the surrendered people in this hall.
He regarded the powerful demons and old ghosts in the hall as if they were nothing.
On the high seat, which had just been carved from ordinary ice, the man who called himself "Old Demon Black Mountain" simply leaned back with one hand supporting his head, his eyes closed and motionless, as if he were resting, and left them to air out for another day.
Then, she opened her eyes.
At that moment, all the demons in the hall seemed to suddenly feel a little more relaxed, their auras surfacing, thus gaining the privilege of "speaking".
The person seated spoke indifferently.
"You are all leaders in this Underworld," each holding a nominal position in the Netherworld Bureaucracy, each possessing a meager share of destiny.
"Therefore, I grant you seven days. Within these seven days, go and sweep away the old lands, bringing them all under the name of the Wrongful-Death City, and then return to this hall to report."
"Those who succeed will have their sins reduced by three-tenths; those who fail shall surely perish."
"Now that I have finished speaking, who agrees and who disagrees?"
As the words fell, the white-haired figure sat on the throne, watching the people below with a mixture of interest and disbelief, seemingly genuinely intending to hear their "opinions."
"The Heavenly Corpse is willing to go!" "By the decree of the Ghost Emperor Black Mountain, I will surely report back within seven days at the Helpless Bridge River of Oblivion!"
Being a sensible person, the jade-colored skeleton was almost the quickest to react, giving a decisive answer on the spot!
Surprisingly, another "colleague" reacted just as quickly! Almost simultaneously, he began to express his "loyalty"!
Even the tone, solemn yet respectful, passionate yet fervent, suggested he was practically ready to kneel down and perform a classic "unwavering loyalty" act.
- First, there's that bastard "River of Oblivion"! This old thing, born from the lingering gloom and turbid emotions of countless souls on the Bridge of Helplessness, eventually transformed into a demon. This time, he's been exceptionally clever!
A flicker of ghostly fire rose within his skull, Heavenly Corpse instantly discerned the unique aura of this "old friend."
However, to be fair, among the demons and monsters who have fought their way out of this netherworld, each occupying their own former titles in the Netherworld Bureaucracy, dividing their territories and ruling as kings, who is truly easy to deal with?
They're all ancient foxes; who could possibly not understand Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio?
Finally realizing what was happening, regardless of what the "guests" in the hall were thinking or what secrets they were plotting, at least on the surface, these usually fierce and powerful old demons and monsters all appeared to be bowing down and wishing they could tear out their hearts to prove their loyalty!
There's nothing to it but this: life and death are in the hands of others; what can one do?
With this seemingly fragile golden lotus atop her head, even if she had a thousand thoughts, she could only swallow them back down for now.
Only the "Old Demon Black Mountain" at the head of the table, with his white hair flowing like a waterfall, casually glanced over the scene and, seeing this, had to withdraw his still-free hand with a hint of regret.
Although he didn't know why, he had a vague, instinctive feeling that, logically speaking, at this point, someone would most likely jump out and make a fuss, followed by a smooth slap or something similar.
What a pity.