A surge of Yin energy roared toward Song Wanníng, so intense that even the Yin energy farther away seemed to sense it and began to stir.
Her aura swelled in response.
If anyone else had been present, they would have been stunned.
Yin energy could only be absorbed by ghost cultivators, yet Song Wanníng was a spiritual cultivator. How could she possibly absorb Yin energy?
But the truth unfolded before their eyes: more and more Yin energy poured into her body. Part of it was drawn into her inner world, while the rest streamed into her dantian, swallowed by the four-colored sphere that resided there.
Both Yin energy and chaotic qi shared the same gray hue, though Yin energy carried a darker, shadowy undertone.
Because of this, the gray segment of the sphere grew larger, squeezing and shrinking the other colors.
…
Boom!
With a thunderous crack, Song Wanníng's cultivation shattered the barrier of early Out-of-Body stage and leapt into the mid stage.
The Yin energy around her slowly faded.
She opened her eyes, feeling as if her body and mind had been cleansed. She had never experienced such lightness and ease.
Her inner demons were gone, eradicated completely. As long as her Dao heart remained unshaken, they would never trouble her again.
A gleam lit her eyes, and joy spread across her face.
Just removing that hidden danger alone made this trip worthwhile—advancing her cultivation was an unexpected gift.
And she had absorbed Yin energy.
Her inner world had closed its channel for now due to the influx of Yin energy. She wondered what might change when it opened again.
Still, the Yin energy within her dantian was real, and she could call on it at will.
At a mere thought, the aura around her shifted entirely into Yin energy. She now appeared indistinguishable from a powerful ghost cultivator.
That was an advantage. Here in the Netherworld, no one would be able to guess her true identity.
She tested by putting away the Guiding Stone. As she expected, the Yin energy around her no longer harmed her. Instead, it felt as gentle and refreshing as a spring breeze.
"Sister, did you turn into a ghost cultivator?"
Xiao Jin teased.
Its earlier worry had been needless. Sister was the strongest person in the world—no hardship could hold her down.
"Yes, your sister has turned into a ghost," Song Wanníng joked, smiling at the little ones. She then guided the small boat toward the opposite bank.
This time, the vicious spirits lurking in the water obediently stayed submerged, not daring to show themselves.
The waters were calm. She crossed without incident.
After stowing away the boat, Song Wanníng continued forward, her brows knitting tighter with every step.
Was this really the Netherworld?
Why was it so desolate?
Could something have happened here?
Her mood grew heavy, and she quickened her pace.
Not long after she left, the King Yama revealed his figure.
He watched the direction she had gone, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.
How had this woman entered the Netherworld?
Were there others who had entered as well?
His expression darkened. With a flicker, he returned to King Yama's Palace.
At once, he activated the great surveillance array covering the Netherworld. Cities appeared before his eyes, each filled with countless estates and residences. Though he could not see inside the houses, the streets lay open to his gaze—any anomaly would be obvious.
These cities were all ghost cultivator territory. Souls awaiting reincarnation resided in Rebirth Valley.
He studied each place carefully, finding nothing unusual. Still, to be cautious, he sent word to the city lords to stay alert. The sudden appearance of a human cultivator stirred an old longing in his heart.
Since his death, he had been trapped in the Netherworld. By chance, he had grasped the Dao and become a ghost cultivator. After cultivating for countless millennia, he had risen to the position of King Yama.
But how he longed to see the world outside again.
For now, he decided to wait and watch.
After all, it was just one woman. She could not stir up a great storm.
…
"Hurry up! What's with the snail's pace? Didn't you eat?"
A ghost warden was herding a newly deceased soul along a side path.
The soul looked pitiful, his face the picture of misfortune.
"Sir, I… I starved to death in life. I truly have no strength…"
Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke. His life had been one long string of bad luck, ending with him literally starving to death. Surely, no one could be more wretched than he.
The ghost warden choked on his words, awkwardness flickering across his face. His scolding had been pure habit—he had forgotten this man's cause of death.
He cleared his throat. "Alright, alright. But you can't go too slow. If you're too late, you might miss the crossing over the River of Forgetfulness."
"Yes, sir. I'll try my best…"
The unlucky soul bowed pitifully, shuffling forward at the same sluggish pace.
The ghost warden could only roll his eyes helplessly.
Then, glancing to the side, he suddenly froze. Not far away stood a breathtaking beauty.
His eyes widened.
Looking closer, he realized—this was a ghost cultivator, and a powerful one at that.
In an instant, his attitude shifted. With great respect, he led the unlucky soul toward Song Wanníng.
"This humble one greets Dàrén."
Dàrén?
Was he talking to her?
Song Wanníng arched a brow. The way people addressed each other in the Netherworld would take some getting used to.
She inclined her head slightly and offered a polite gesture.
The ghost warden grinned, curiosity shining in his eyes. "Dàrén, what brings you to the Rebirth Valley? This place is full of souls waiting to reincarnate. Has something happened?"
Ghost cultivators rarely visited the Rebirth Valley. You could go ten years without seeing one—other than the ghost wardens themselves.
Song Wanníng kept her expression calm, intending to draw some information from him.
"I've recently hit a bottleneck in my cultivation," she said seriously. "I thought I might travel and look around, see if I can find some inspiration. Would you mind if I accompanied you for a look?"
She smiled warmly, and the ghost warden felt as if an immortal had descended into the Netherworld.
"Not at all, not at all!" he replied quickly.
As they walked, he gestured toward the man tied to his rope. "This one here starved to death just a few hours ago. He's waiting to cross the River of Forgetfulness and see where he'll be reborn."
At his tug, the unlucky soul stepped closer and gave Song Wanníng a miserable smile. Misery clung to him like a second skin.
Song Wanníng couldn't help but feel he was truly unfortunate.
The ghost warden led the way toward the River of Forgetfulness.
It was only then she realized the path she had entered through had been abandoned long ago.
Even the River of Forgetfulness had been relocated, which explained the long stretch of empty, lifeless land she'd crossed earlier.
Before long, they reached the real River of Forgetfulness.
The place bustled with activity.
Ghost wardens hurried back and forth, guiding souls across the river.
===
In here the ghost warden call her with "大人" (Dàrén) or "Adult". It's an honorific title denoting respect for someone of higher status, authority, or age. It is not used among peers or equals in casual settings.
"Your Excellency" / "Sir" / "My Lord"
This is the most common usage in historical, political, or formal contexts. It is a term of address for a superior.
At first, I decide to use "My Lord" but then, I realize that 'My Lord' it self rather common. Using them here would make the underworld's culture sound just like every other courtly setting, erasing its uniqueness.
And so, I decide to keep "大人" untranslated for the unique flavour.
In the world of ghost and underworld cultivators, Dàrén is more than just a title for a higher rank; it's a specific term imbued with deep reverence and respect. It acknowledges not just someone's power, but their authority and stature in a way that feels essential to their culture.
A quick note on this: I actually wrote this explanation after translating a few more chapters and noticing something fascinating—sometimes a high-ranking ghost cultivator would use Dàrén to address someone technically "below" them (in this case is Song Wanning). This clued me in that its meaning runs deeper than just simple hierarchy.
So, here's why I keep it as Dàrén: In the world of ghost and underworld cultivators, this isn't just a title for a higher rank; it's a specific term imbued with deep reverence and respect. It acknowledges not just someone's power, but their authority, wisdom, or stature in a way that feels essential to their culture. It's less about strict cultivation level and more about honoring someone's standing.
And, to preserve that specific feeling of honor and to keep it consistent with how I handle other special titles like Zhēnjūn or Fózǐ, I've left it as Dàrén.
===
Hi everyone! Just a quick announcement: I've hit the 20-novel limit on my Webnovel account, so I won't be able to upload any new projects here for now. To keep sharing my translations with everyone, I've decided to migrate my new uploads to AO3!
For my completed novels, I'll also be making them available in .epub format on Google Drive or TeraBox, so you can read them offline whenever you want. I'll put the links in the comment section. If you're reading on the app, it can be tricky to copy or open links there. In that case, please use your browser to access the web version at https://www.webnovel.com and, if needed, switch to desktop mode in your browser settings to copy/paste or access the links properly.
I've already started a new project there: "My VR Games Terrify the World"—I hope you'll enjoy it! Don't worry—all ongoing/serializing projects on Webnovel will continue here. I won't be abandoning anything you're currently following!
For extra safety, I'm also putting my translations on Royal Road (username: Reiya_Alberich) so they're accessible in multiple places.
If you'd like to follow my AO3 account, my pseud is Rikhi and you can find my profile here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikhi/pseuds/Rikhi
Or just search 'Rikhi' on it's search bar.
Thanks so much for your support, and I hope you'll continue to enjoy all the translations—both old and new—no matter the platform! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و
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Meng Shu never expected to wake up in a parallel world where VR technology is everywhere, but horror games are painfully primitive. His saving grace? A game development system that's incredibly easy to use, with a unique currency: player fear.
Every scream, every jolt, every moment of pure dread his players experience fuels his progress. With this terror tax, he can unlock the blueprints for every classic horror game from his past world. While everyone else ignores the genre, Meng Shu sees a golden opportunity.
He begins to unleash a series of VR horror experiences that leave players traumatized. Outlast has them pleading for mercy. Visage keeps them perpetually on edge, jumping at the slightest sound. SOMA plunges them into deep existential dread, and Alien: Isolation teaches them the true meaning of helpless fear.
From Silent Hill to Resident Evil and Five Nights at Freddy's, Meng Shu's growing library of nightmares has one simple goal: to become the undisputed master of fear and make the entire gaming world scream.