Nan Zhi knew.
Chen Ping had been a good man in life.
Chen Ping’s colleagues all said so.
“He’s a good man.”
His colleague’s face would cloud with sympathy, adding with a touch of regret:
“You know, he was that kind of workplace pushover.
He never offended anyone, never sucked up to anyone. Helping people write code or working overtime for others was a regular occurrence for him.”
Chen Ping was no moral paragon, nor was he a saintly gentleman.
He was just like millions of other ordinary people.
He had never committed any great evil, occasionally took small advantages in life, and the worst thing he had probably ever done was browse a few adult websites.
He would be smugly happy about finding money on the street and feel satisfied when his monthly bonus hit his account.
He lived his life conscientiously, seriously, and with effort.
Even after committing suicide and turning into a vengeful ghost, he had not committed any heinous crimes.
Even when Master He beat him black and blue with a willow broom, he didn't seem to have any intention of retaliating.
Unlike the descriptions in countless literary works, Chen Ping still maintained a certain degree of reason as a human.
But from what he had revealed, Chen Ping seemed to have already marked the young woman from earlier as his prey.
He wanted to eat people.
He craved flesh and blood.
Just like the Painted Skin Ghost that had been killed.
Could a good man, dead for only a year, change so completely into a monster that craved flesh and blood?
Nan Zhi scrutinized him.
Unlike the Chen Ping she had seen during the day, the ghost now was covered in a layer of slimy substance.
Sticky, chaotic, and violent.
Chen Ping’s face shifted constantly, one moment a hideous ghost, the next a human face.
It seemed the humanity and ghostly nature within him were at war.
However, Chen Ping did not snarl at Nan Zhi; instead, he became increasingly fearful.
Looking at the submissive vengeful ghost, Nan Zhi understood:
Under the influence of the Paper Skin Garment, he had mistaken her for one of his own.
And a peer whose strength far exceeded his own.
But wasn't this attitude a bit too respectful?
Seeing the vengeful ghost rip open his stomach to pull out candles and paper ingots—items only ghosts could consume—from a pile of black ash, Nan Zhi didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
She rejected Chen Ping’s kindness once again:
“I don't like eating those things.”
Is she... refusing to let him go?
Chen Ping, his face covered in blood and tears, felt numb as a new wave of terror washed over him.
He finally understood the feelings of the woman he had just targeted as prey.
He was the fish on the chopping block.
At this moment, he was the fresh fish on that block, stretching out his neck to wait for the slaughter.
He couldn't even summon a thought of resistance.
Otherwise...
Chen Ping glanced at the knife in the woman’s hand and felt as if a vast sea of blood was crashing down, with countless creatures screaming and wailing.
Furthermore, two exceptionally fierce ghosts had already died by that blade!
The bone chilling cold on his body was an instinctive warning that triggered upon sensing the death of his own kind.
He couldn't run.
If he ran, he would die.
He couldn't defy her.
Otherwise, he would die.
Although he didn't know where a ghost went after dying, Chen Ping knew that such pain was definitely not something he wanted.
He wished he could slap himself a few times.
How could you let your bloodthirsty desires get out of control!
How could you lose your mind! Why did you have to try and harm someone!
Now look what happened—you've attracted a powerful ghost, and disaster has struck.
Now, the only thing he could do was pray.
Pray that this powerful ghost before him just wanted to have some fun.
Rather than choosing to tear him apart and toss him into her mouth to chew on.
Nan Zhi thought Chen Ping’s reaction was a bit strange.
But she didn't overthink it and instead changed the subject:
“Why haven't you gone to be reincarnated? Why are you haunting this place instead?”
Chen Ping looked up, his eyes quickly darting to the hem of her skirt, and felt a wave of boundless baleful energy almost hit him in the face.
This outfit.
Her archaic manner of speech.
Could she be an old ghost who had lived for hundreds of years?
He weighed his words carefully, trying his best to answer in a way she would understand:
“Senior, it’s not that I’m unwilling to reincarnate, but... I simply don't know how to leave this place.”
He didn't dare look at Nan Zhi again as he answered with his head down:
“When I fell, I landed on the billboard outside this floor. Back then, I watched the firefighters take my body away.
By the time I regained consciousness, I found myself trapped at the boundary between the seventeenth and eighteenth floors.
I can't go up, and I can't go down. My soul can only wander between these two floors.”
In the beginning, Chen Ping thought that soul reapers like Black and White Impermanence or Ox-Head and Horse-Face would come to take him away.
But as the days passed, he hadn't seen any other ghosts except for one or two old ghosts he occasionally met following office workers into the building.
The range of his activities was limited to the seventeenth and eighteenth floors.
Hearing this, Nan Zhi’s heart tightened as she pressed further, “You've seen other ghosts?”
Chen Ping answered honestly:
“Yes, there was an old ghost who died in a car accident. He died three years before me and had been a ghost for a long time, so I called him ‘Old Ghost.’
He was the one who told me the rules of being a ghost.
I've stayed here all year, so I haven't seen any other ghosts.”
He seemed terrified of Nan Zhi and blurted out everything he knew:
“Old Ghost said that in this world, there is no Underworld at all, nor are there any soul reapers or Hells.
When people die, some are lucky enough to become ghosts. For others, their souls naturally dissipate, like a bubble—pop—and they’re gone.”
No Underworld, no soul reapers, and no Hells?!
Nan Zhi didn't know if Old Ghost’s information was true, but she was still frightened by the implications behind those words.
Her heart was in turmoil.
Was this still the world she knew?
There were vengeful ghosts born from suicide, but no Black and White Impermanence or Underworld.
She could cultivate and practice techniques, yet she had never seen any City Gods or Land Deities here.
Spiritual energy was thin in the real world, and no immortals ever manifested before the people.
Everything seemed strange.
Since she began practicing the Moon-Worshiping Breathing Method, Nan Zhi naturally knew that heaven and earth were divided into Yin and Yang.
If there were ghosts in the world, there should naturally be a place for souls to go.
The Underworld in mythology was like a transit station.
After death, souls would go to the Underworld to be processed and reincarnated, entering the Six Paths of Reincarnation once again.
Such a cycle, where Yin and Yang rotate, was the normal state of things.
But in the real world, ghosts who had been dead for two or three years remained in the mortal realm, with no soul reapers ever coming to collect them.
This was abnormal.
How many people died on Earth every year?
These souls were supposed to enter the Underworld according to the rules, to be punished or reincarnated as required.
But now, they were staying in the mortal realm in large numbers.
If this continued, Yin and Yang would be reversed, and humans and ghosts would coexist. Trouble was bound to happen sooner or later.
Take Chen Ping, for example. He might still have his senses now, but what about in a year? Two years?
What about ten or a hundred years?
Would a Chen Ping clouded by resentment eventually become like the Painted Skin Ghost in Dingyuan County, feeding on human hearts?
When that time comes, the entire Huaxia—and perhaps even the whole world—could become a hunting ground for ghosts.
Humanity would fall from the top of the food chain.
This future was too terrifying.
Just thinking about it made one shiver.
Nan Zhi remained silent for a long time.
It seemed she would have to find time to visit the temples and monasteries of the real world to verify if her suspicions were true.
“...I think I might be what those novels often call an earthbound spirit because I died on the billboard.”
Seeing Nan Zhi listening intently, Chen Ping quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
These words were actually things he had heard from Old Ghost and then inferred himself.
But this powerful ghost before him seemed to enjoy hearing them.
Chen Ping stole another glance at Nan Zhi. Recalling her question from earlier, his heart couldn't help but pound with hope:
She asked that...
Could it be that she has a way to let him leave this place?
The vengeful ghost’s heart grew fervent, just as it had been when he was still alive.
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