The old man who had stood beside the Six Paths Samsara Immortal King and called to him for help was assigned to one of the streams. Perhaps he sensed something, for he instantly began wailing, frantically begging the Six Paths Samsara Immortal King to save him, unwilling to be sucked inside.
He was a being with powerful cultivation. Far more passed unnoticed, the memories of their true spirits and souls washed away by the River of Forgetfulness as they stepped stiffly into samsara.
Without Meng Po, there was naturally no Meng Po Soup. Ji Hao could only combine the functions of the River of Forgetfulness and Meng Po in this fashion.
The Six Paths Samsara Immortal King's expression shifted slightly, for the river carrying the old man led toward an enormous volcanic crater.
There was a boundless cliff there, with volcanic craters beneath it, like gaping mouths of the abyss devouring the surging waters of the River of Forgetfulness and the spiritual bodies within.
Standing on the river's surface, the Six Paths Samsara Immortal King gazed over and saw a terrifying scene. Inside the craters, demon gods wore shackles, blood streaming from their bodies as they struggled and roared. Fierce ghosts stood with gleaming white bones and rotting flesh clinging to them, throwing back their heads in piercing, miserable howls, as though they had suffered some monstrous injustice.
At the very bottom lay terrifying magma. From time to time, evil ghosts and spiritual bodies plunged into it, turning to wisps of smoke, burned until nothing remained.
"The hell dao?" The Six Paths Samsara Immortal King understood where this stream of the Yellow Springs led. It was a terrifying hell, carrying the spiritual bodies assigned to this river down into it.
The old man's face looked kindly, but his heart was