To serve the dead as one serves the living—Yin Weiyin could not recall when he first heard this phrase. But now, as he took in the sights of the underworld, it seemed to perfectly mirror its truth.
Standing on the broad terrace, gazing alone from a great height, he beheld rows upon rows of black-tiled buildings, pale-faced beings—human, demon, and ghost alike—roaming below. A river of ghostly blue wove its way through the ghost city from north to south. The clamor of shouts and bustling crowds echoed incessantly. When disputes arose, squads of brightly garbed riders would gallop over in haste, dragging offending spirits off either to the fiery pits or to the frozen dungeons. Everything within the ghost city operated with strict order, as if it was a mirror of the mortal world below the surface.
