A Record of Cultivation in the Spirit Ruins and Ghost Domain

The cold mists of the Netherworld were as thick as ink, swallowing everything in their path. The gloomy wind howled, carrying the shrill cries of ghosts and wolves across this cursed land. At the bottom of the Abyss of Ten Thousand Souls, blood-red ghostly lights flickered, as if countless wronged spirits had opened their eyes in the darkness to gaze upon this sinister world.

Sixteen-year-old Lin Qianyue curled up behind a moss-covered boulder, clutching the jade pendant her mother had left her. It was her only source of comfort in the Netherworld. Ancient runes were carved into its surface, and it emitted a faint glow, as if silently speaking of her family’s secrets. Her hair was disheveled, and her pale face was full of fear and despair. Her thin clothes snapped in the cold wind, already torn by thorns and revealing streaks of bleeding wounds.

Three months earlier, an unexpected catastrophe had plunged her life into darkness. The once peaceful Lin Family Fort had been massacred overnight by mysterious black-robed men. Her relatives, who had always doted on her, were as helpless as ants before their assailants’ blades, losing their lives in an instant. Her parents fought the black-robed men with everything they had to protect her, but in the end they fell in a pool of blood. With her father’s final help, she stumbled into the entrance to the Netherworld: the Spirit Ruins Ghost Domain.

“Why... why did you do this to us...” Lin Qianyue murmured. Tears welled in her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. Her heart was filled with hatred: hatred for the black-robed men, and hatred for this cruel world. But right now, she was even more