The Ghost Clan.
The Underworld.
This was a Great World without equal. Even the Divine Realm, which had expanded for ten thousand years, was as tiny as an island beside a continent in comparison.
The Underworld was vast enough to sustain countless trillions of living beings.
The sky over the entire Underworld differed from those of other Great Thousand Worlds.
Their sky resembled tassels washed in blue-black ink, shifting ceaselessly. Far-reaching, deep-blue clouds formed one strange, regular circle after another, constantly orbiting the Underworld's Nether Sun.
The Nether Sun was the Underworld's sun, an immensely large sphere of deep-blue light.
It hung above the Underworld, yet split into countless deep-blue suns like mirror images, scattered across the Underworld's tasseled canopy of sky.
Yet its light did not seem intense.
The Underworld's clouds were enormous, large enough to obscure the sun for a long time.
Thus, the time when the deep-blue clouds obscured the sun was the Underworld's night.
The people of the Ghost Clan also loved light, but what they preferred was a dim glow.
They believed that even the faintest light could still illuminate the world.
Such was the Underworld.
The Underworld's land was a lush expanse of green. Above a Ghost Clan city in the east.
A dim, blue, circular, luminous space hovered in the sky.
This space was like a mirror, refracting between the two ends of illusion and reality.
This space was vast, filled with layer upon layer of buildings distinctive to the Ghost Clan.
Black predominated, with cyan, red, blue, and white marking the four corners.
Inside the great hall at the very center.
At the head of the hall, directly ahead, before a desk.
Sat a middle-aged man in a composed posture. His form was solid, and he did not look like a ghost