The roar of the closing Netherworld Gate made Gu Qinghuan's eardrums ache. She had barely caught up to Pi Yanlin when the scene before her made her pupils constrict—that was no gateway; it was clearly another realm altogether.
Boundless, pitch-black river water spanned before them, its surface teeming with countless translucent faces. There were the weeping of old women, the terror of children, the resentment of young men. Every expression looked as though it were being played in slow motion, so distinct that even the fluttering of eyelashes could be clearly discerned.
The stench of rotting corpses mixed with ice crystals drilled into her nasal cavity. Gu Qinghuan instinctively gripped her Xiuchun Saber tighter, the cord wrapped around the hilt digging painfully into her palm.
Chapter 129