Chapter One: A Prologue

Night fell once again.

"Keep moving!" a ghostly shadow urged.

"I'm so tired, I don't want to move!" another shadow whined, limp and listless.

"Say that again!"

The limp shadow immediately perked up and said, "Let's go!"

And so, it continued through countless nights.

"Wow, time to walk again!" The limp shadow, now accustomed to setting off as soon as darkness fell, began to sing spectral songs as they traveled, feeling more carefree and content than anything else in existence.

The other shadow remarked, "No need to walk anymore. The Ghostly Dead City is right ahead."

"What? We're here already? I haven't had enough of the journey yet!" This limp ghost was a creature of habit; having finally grown accustomed to the routine, he was reluctant to change it.

These were Dali, the robust ghost in his prime, and Mask, the lean, gaunt ghost. They had traveled thousands of miles to reach the Ghostly Dead City—the world of the Ghost Clan and the place where they would officially register as members.

"Are you two Dali and Mask?" a ghost holding a ledger stepped forward to inquire.

Dali nodded and said, "I am Dali."

Mask immediately rushed forward, exclaiming, "I-I-I am Mask!"

"Very good. From now on, you are members of our Ghost Clan. Once you enter the Dead City, you will each be allotted a small plot of land. Just settle down and be good citizens of the clan!"

"What? Become farming ghosts?" Mask had grown used to drifting about with Dali; asking him to settle down and till the soil was worse than killing him.

Dali let out a cold snort. Mask, crestfallen, held his tongue.

"Thank you, brother officer," Dali said. He took their entry permits and dragged Mask into the Ghostly Dead City.

"Why did we travel thousands of miles to this godforsaken place?" Once inside, the atmosphere was dreary and deathly still. Mask complained, feeling deeply depressed.

Dali replied, "Didn't we agree with brother Han Tianyue that if fate allows, we shall meet again? If they are to pursue their dreams, they will eventually pass through the Dead City one day. We are simply waiting for him here."

Upon hearing that Han Tianyue might pass through one day, Mask immediately waved his hands and cheered, "That’s wonderful! I hope brother Han Tianyue comes to visit our Ghostly Dead City soon!"

"Then let's hurry and claim our land," Dali said.

Mask nodded, followed Dali to the land distribution office, and after receiving their plots, they headed to their new fields.

The soil was pitch black, exuding a deathly aura that intoxicated the spirits. "Wow, this is naturally the perfect place for ghosts to live!" Mask marveled.

"Enough talk, let’s start farming!" Dali commanded.

Mask picked up a hoe and began to till the earth, grumbling, "Why is it always me who does the heavy lifting?"

"Say one more word and I'll beat you!" Dali roared.

Mask had no choice but to till the soil in sullen silence.

As time trickled by, Mask eventually grew used to tilling the earth and tending the crops. Raising his hoe, he declared, "Life is so beautiful!"

Mask had followed Dali into this tranquil and easy life, but the only thing that kept their excitement alive was the belief that "Brother Han Tianyue will pass through here one day."

"Brother Han Tianyue, we are waiting for you here!" Dali and Mask went back to tilling the earth and tending their fields.

Fields of spectral vegetables and ghostly rice grew bountifully—another harvest, year after year.

"It's truly wonderful!" Mask raised his hoe. They had long forgotten the life of fleeing for their lives with Han Tianyue, forgotten the monotonous existence in the graves with Dali, and forgotten the arduous journey to the Ghostly Dead City. They were now completely accustomed to this peaceful and leisurely life. "Life is just a series of habits; one will always get used to it in the end."