In the Ghost City, faint traces of qin music drifted through the air, barely perceptible yet soothing to the mind and soul. It was impossible to tell where the melody was coming from.0

The monk slowed his steps and glanced around, observing the Ghost City and the spirits moving about within it.0

He soon noticed that most of the ghosts here had young or middle-aged appearances. Judging by their faces, they clearly hadn’t died of old age. His expression softened with pity, as if he could empathize with them simply by seeing their plight.0

Suddenly, a ghost froze in place, staring blankly at him. The ghost immediately set aside what it was doing and offered the monk a deep bow.0

“Master…”0

“Amitabha…”0

The monk quickly returned the gesture.0

When both stood upright again, the young ghost’s face was already streaked with tears. The ghost looked at him and asked, sobbing, “Master, how did you end up here? Have you died too? With your great cultivation and virtue, how could someone as young as you end up in this place…?”0

The ghost’s voice was filled with sorrow and sincerity.0

“Oh…” The monk realized the misunderstanding.0

He hurried to explain why he was there, detailing how he had come to the Ghost City. He then asked for the ghost’s name and background, only to learn that this spirit had perished during the great plague in Gui...0