In the blink of an eye, sixty years had passed, bringing them to Incense Accumulation Year 1655.
The day for the Myriad Spirits Sect in Ten Thousand Yin Cavern to recruit new disciples had come again. This time, a group of ghost spirits that had gained tangible forms gathered early before its gates, descending in the shapes of men and women, young and old.
"Before the Myriad Spirits Sect, all ghosts must halt."
A ghost spirit in the form of a red-robed woman approached the sword-surrendering stone beneath the gateway arch. Seeing the line of words written on it in blood-red lettering as bright as vermilion lacquer, she sighed with a wealth of emotion. "What a grand claim!"
Beside her, an elderly-looking woman chuckled. "How is that a grand claim? The Myriad Spirits Sect is the only great immortal sect in the Ten-Thousand Regions Ghost Kingdom. It venerates the Pure Land Great Incense Buddha and has received his recognition and the transmission of true arts. Never mind ordinary ghost generals and ghost kings-even emperors must obediently present their calling cards and pay their respects. Otherwise, why would we, having finally awakened our intelligence, travel thousands of miles here to seek the truth and inquire into the Dao? Isn't it all so we can join and become disciples of the Myriad Spirits Sect?"
Another ghost spirit, this one resembling a middle-aged man, said, "Exactly, exactly! We're here so we can make grand claims like that ourselves someday!"
Hearing this, the other ghost spirits fell into thought.
They waited for more than half a day. Only when the blood moon sank in the west and the sky turned a hazy gray did several ghost cultivators in Myriad Spirits Sect disciple robes emerge.
Sensing the newcomers' auras, the waiting ghost spirits froze briefly.