Netherworld Retrograde

Inside the luxurious mansion, the lights blazed brightly, and the music chimed.

Countless shadows moved about, seemingly engaged in a grand banquet.

In this seemingly endless space, everything appeared magnificent yet eerie.

When all those who ventured into this strange space found themselves unable to escape the repetitive cage, after exhausting their fuel and running in vain, when despair covered them like a cold night...

It appeared!

So abruptly, so strangely, mocking the cold silence and helplessness of those trapped outside with its extreme noise and splendor.

It was a blatant trap, an alluring sweet-scented, gilded beast trap.

The brilliant lights, the elegant music, the moving "guests", all emitted a silent scream.

'Enter the mansion, join the banquet!'

'Accept the invitation, it's the only choice!'

'Step among us!'

Imagine the despair of those 'chosen' caravans and scavengers, as they saw this mansion in the unchanging space they couldn't escape.

That was a despair where escape was impossible, avoidance non-existent...

What would be their fate?

Banquet participants? Become one of 'them'?

Banquet food, served on the dining table?

Or perhaps, mere amusement for the banquet? All struggles and resistance, turned into fodder for 'their' mirth?

But regardless, those trapped in this space could no longer escape.

This was the banquet of the Returning Souls, hosted by a powerful Returning Duke.

Unlike Duke Luoshan whom Li Yelai had encountered in the Corpse Nourishment Land. During that period, Duke Luoshan was in a state of recovering from defeat.

And this, was a Returning Duke at the peak of their strength. An alien entity formed from the most intense, twisted obsessions erupting in the moment of death of countless lives.

It was itself a living monument constructed from eternal dissatisfaction, endless desire, and cold despair. It, or rather "they", were the true rulers of this infinite, repetitive, wilderness of bones.

Whenever the banquet opened, 'they' would choose some wise beings to enter their ghostly realm.

In that infinitely repetitive space, despair and struggle.

Serving as the banquet's amuse-bouche was also the Returning Souls' delight.

This time, as always, 'they' picked a fairly large group. And anticipated their desperate attempts to escape here using every last bit of strength, ultimately stopping helplessly in this dangerous wilderness as their fuel ran out.

Watching them vainly charge before their fuel depleted, struggling, fearing, hoping, and despairing amidst that never-ending, ghostly-circling deadwood outside the windows. That fruitless resistance, that life dimming, swallowed by darkness, was the appetizer most beloved by the Returning Souls.

Now, the train stopped. Fuel exhausted, the engine cold. The iron shell isolating the outside world had become a cage imprisoning hope.

The second act of the "feast" slowly unfurled with the scarcity of supplies.

In 'their' expectations.

Inside the carriage, people's suppressed fear, under the catalysis of despair, began to twist and ferment.

People would look at each other, at the dwindling survival resources.

A bottle of murky water, a piece of hard bread, even a small morsel of moldy breadcrumb...these trivial things would become the beginning of conflict and contention. Rapidly turning into flames igniting brutality!

Suspicious whispers transformed into sharp accusations, shoving escalated into fists and kicks, fear turned into hysterical screams.

For a sip of water, former companions would clash, bleeding in the struggle.

For a small piece of food, trust among allies would collapse instantly.

And whenever a living being died in conflict, betrayal, or pure despair, at the moment the flame of life extinguished, all the pent-up unwillingness, anger, pain, love, regret within their soul...those most intense, pure obsessions, would erupt in an instant!

Perhaps it could take root and sprout in this unique domain, mutate, and eventually transform into a new, low-level Returning Soul. Joining this rare feast as a new guest, spectator.

Even if unable to become a Returning Soul, those rich, complex obsessions were offerings most loved by the Returning Souls, capable of nourishing those attending the banquet.

The suffering, struggle, downfall, and eventual destruction of life were just inevitable proceedings, solely to extract that richest wine of despair at the final moment.

For the Returning Souls, this was a rare tonic indeed.

Returning Souls differ from Spiritual Ability Users, unable to ascend normally.

And if people dared to step off the train and venture into the eerie mansion.

The Returning Souls would have more choices indeed, they wouldn't actively attack life forms; they too were restricted by their rules and boundaries.

For example, the Blowing Lamp Ghost or Echo Ghost, it would imitate various sounds to call victims from behind. As long as the victim turned around, it would blow out their 'lamp' and absorb their life force. Even Spiritual Ability Users who could fight a Returning Soul suffered greatly upon first encounter, there was a young man in his twenties being blown into an old man.

But as long as the victim never turned back, it wouldn't matter how hoarse it shouted, it couldn't do anything. Someone once avoided the Blowing Lamp Ghost due to neck problems preventing turning.

And furthermore, in certain areas, designated people must perform or avoid certain behaviors. Otherwise, they would trigger their rules. Once stepping outside the rules, they would collect a price, eventually devouring life force.

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