Chapter 18 | Screenwriter of a Reviving World

Although the black resentment was still present, the two ghosts seemed to have regained their sanity.

Aside from their bodies covered in scars and their eerie complexions, at first glance, they looked just like an ordinary brother and sister.

The two ghosts had delicate features and were naturally beautiful, but their pupils were completely white, and their limbs were bent at unnatural angles.

Both wore identical crimson, cross-collared aoqun robes. The upper jacket had a moon-white collar embroidered with tiny lotus patterns, while the sharp pleats of the bright red mamian skirts below were as sharp as blades.

Although they were a boy and a girl, both were dressed and made up as women, their long hair styled into twin chuihuan fenxiao buns.

A'zhu's brows and eyes carried a touch of heroic spirit, and his temperament was steady.

A'yan's features were soft, and her demeanor was delicate and gentle.

If not for the moles beneath their eyes, even those closest to them would likely be unable to tell who was the brother and who was the sister.

...

“Can you control this... well, resentment, I suppose? Reel it in. I don't like people making a mess of my room.”

Song Mo experimentally issued the command. The two fierce ghosts shuddered in unison, and the overwhelming resentment completely vanished.

“Let me ask you both—”

Song Mo didn't tell the two ghosts to stand. She was simply curious. “Do you still remember what happened in the Slaughtering Hell?”

Hearing the words “Slaughtering Hell,” both ghosts shuddered simultaneously.

“We dare not... deceive our benefactor...”

The male ghost spoke very slowly, as if he hadn't spoken in a very long time.

He tried hard to recall, but his mind was a complete blank, save for a few fragmented, blurry memories:

Scorching flames, sharp mountains of knives, endless torture, and the never-ending wails of sinners ringing in his ears.

“Replying to Benefactor, your sinful servant cannot remember clearly.”

The male ghost shook his head, his voice as rough as tree bark.

“I only remember it being very dark, very painful, and very hot... It felt like a very, very long time had passed... I do not know how many years it has been, and I have almost forgotten why we were being punished.”

“I remember some of it...”

Beside him, A'yan kept her head lowered very low, speaking in a soft, gentle voice. She did not look like a fierce ghost at all, but rather like an ordinary young girl:

“Just now, Mount Yin trembled, and a rift tore open in the Slaughtering Hell. It was as if a giant brush reached out from the rift.

That brush was made of ink, and its tip dripped with golden ink...

Then, countless words fell from the brush, wrapping around us... Benefactor... broke our chains and snatched us from the hands of the underworld messengers holding the chains.”

Even now, she still couldn't believe she had truly escaped from the boundless hell.

“We knew it must have been Benefactor's doing.”

A'zhu pressed his head almost against the back of his hands, his tone filled with absolute deference:

“Four hundred years in the mountain of knives and sea of fire, we siblings thought we would never see the light of day again.”

His body trembled slightly, not daring to show the slightest negligence,

“We are deeply grateful that Benefactor did not abandon us, bringing the two of us out of the boundless hell, breaking our shackles, and relieving our pain. This grace and virtue is like giving us a new life.”

“We siblings are willing to be your servants for eternity, attending to Benefactor's side. We will go through fire and water, offering our utmost loyalty, and will not shrink from any sacrifice.”

Beside him, A'yan cautiously raised her head, her eyes filled with deep admiration and attachment:

“If we ever harbor any double-mindedness, may heaven and earth destroy us, may our souls be obliterated, and may we never be reincarnated.”

Song Mo recognized that the two ghosts were performing the most solemn ritual of prostration from the Ming Dynasty.

Their upper bodies were held straight, then they slowly bent forward, placing their palms facing upward on both sides of their heads.

This was the highest etiquette a servant could perform for a master, representing complete submission and absolute loyalty.

But her mind was on other things.

A giant ink brush, black characters.

Wasn't that the system?

Could this “material” really have been fished out of hell by the system?

So hell really existed in this world, and gods, ghosts, and monsters were real too.

Then the Mount Longhu Daoist in the character background, the Slaughtering Hell of Mount Yin, and those underworld messengers... were they all real?

If the system could truly snatch souls from hell, what exactly was its origin?

She racked her brain but couldn't fathom what kind of entity could be so powerful—using hell as a gacha pool for quest rewards.

Countless questions churned in Song Mo's mind.

...

Hearing no sound from Song Mo, the two ghosts remained silent, not daring to act presumptuously in the slightest.

Prostrate on the ground, A'zhu felt a mixture of wild joy at returning to the mortal realm and a towering, murderous hatred. As a fierce ghost, even after four hundred years of torture in hell, his hatred had not faded.

If not for their benefactor standing before them, he and A'yan would have immediately sought out the reincarnation of the Shen clan, skinning them alive and tearing out their tendons, subjecting them to all kinds of torture to soothe the hostility in their hearts.

Beside him, A'yan was even more focused, not daring to relax for a second.

How could minor ghosts like them comprehend the great power of their benefactor?

The Daoist had said that the two of them had killed one hundred and nineteen people, dozens of whom were innocent. Thus, their sins were heavy, and they had to suffer in the Slaughtering Hell for ten thousand years before they could enter reincarnation again.

Ten thousand years.

It had only been four hundred years, and she had already almost forgotten what the mortal realm looked like.

...

The torment of the Slaughtering Hell was agonizing.

Every day, the two ghosts climbed mountains of knives and plunged into seas of fire. With their souls trapped inside, their skin would be sliced open by the knife mountains, and then their bones would be soaked and boiled in lava.

Day after day, never stopping.

If they showed the slightest hesitation, underworld messengers wielding mourning staffs would brutally strike their souls, leaving them unable to live and unable to die.

The two ghosts had never believed in gods or Buddhas.

When they were burned to death back then, they had cursed every god and Buddha in the heavens.

But now, they were willing to believe in anything.

—As long as this pain could end, they would be willing even if their souls were scattered and they could never be reincarnated again.

But the gods and Buddhas did not hear.

On that day, an underworld messenger's whip struck A'yan's back, leaving a deep bloody gash and peeling back her flesh:

“What are you dilly-dallying for!”

The underworld messenger cursed fiercely, the soul-reaping chains in his hand rattling loudly. “It's time to climb the mountain of knives! If you delay the schedule, we'll throw you into the frying pan!”

The two ghosts, crying out in pain, had no choice but to drag their heavy chains, walking step by step toward the mountain of knives.

The iron bed beneath their feet was so hot that their soul bodies smoked. With every step, their bones dissolved a little.

The two ghosts thought it would be another hopeless day, but the next second, a sudden and massive change occurred:

“Boom—!!!”

A world-shaking boom echoed from the depths of Mount Yin.

The entire Slaughtering Hell shook. The iron bed beneath them flipped over, a corner of the mountain of knives collapsed with a crash, and countless sharp blades rolled down.

The underworld messengers couldn't keep their footing, stumbling and falling as their whips and soul-reaping chains scattered all over the ground.

“What's going on?!”

“An earthquake?!”

“How can Mount Yin tremble! Mount Yin hasn't budged for tens of thousands of years!”

The underworld messengers shouted in panic, their faces showing a terror they had never felt before.

A'zhu and A'yan also fell to the ground, holding onto each other tightly.

The originally pitch-black sky had actually cracked open with a golden rift!

Golden light poured out from the rift, spilling into the freezing hell.

An underworld commander, whose figure closely resembled a bull demon, rushed over. With just one glance, his entire body began to tremble, and he almost dropped the command token in his hand to the ground:

“Quick! Go report to the Yanluo Emperor!”

The underworld commander shouted, “Mount Yin is trembling, and hell is cracking open! This... some great power has descended here!”

“A great power?”

“My lord, what kind of great power could shake Mount Yin?”

“Who else but a Sage would have such immense power!”

“Seal off the Slaughtering Hell immediately! Do not allow any sinful soul to approach! If we disturb this great power, even ten heads wouldn't be enough to pay for it!”

The underworld soldiers went into action immediately, crossing their halberds to form a perimeter, blocking the sinful souls inside.

A'zhu and A'yan knelt obediently on the ground.

What did a great power have to do with them?

They were two fierce ghosts with heavy sins. Even if a Sage descended here, they would likely be obliterated with just a single glance.

But no one expected that the rift would grow larger and larger, the golden light growing brighter and brighter, as countless golden characters poured out from the crack...

They were like golden koi fish swimming in the sky.

A gentle voice resounded deep within the souls of all the ghosts.

Countless floating ink characters descended from the void, finally gathering together to form a giant hand condensed from ink.

The hand was massive, blotting out the sky as if it could hold the entire Slaughtering Hell in its palm.

Then, all the ghosts heard It say:

【Confirm modifications.】

...

Incredible, my system.

Back then, Sun Wukong only dared to burn the Book of Life and Death.

But you went straight into hell to pull cards!

Song Mo listened to the two fierce ghosts' narration with an expressionless face. After some thought, she still told them to stand up:

“Don't call yourselves sinful servants anymore. It sounds weird. Just call me Song Mo.”

The moment she spoke, the complexions of the two ghosts instantly changed. Their soul bodies became somewhat unstable, and black hostility surged out uncontrollably.

The two ghosts fell prostrate again, their foreheads pressed tightly against the floor:

“We dare not!”

A'zhu said anxiously, “Benefactor is the second parent of us siblings, our master. How could we dare call Benefactor by name? We beg Benefactor to withdraw the command!”

“We beg Benefactor to withdraw the command!”

A'yan's voice carried a sob as she chimed in, “If we lose our manners and displease Benefactor, we will immediately end our lives right here!”

“I didn't mean it like that... Anyway, since you're ghosts, you probably eat incense and paper money, right...”

Song Mo clicked her tongue, feeling a bit of a headache. Noticing that the two fierce ghosts shuddered again, she abandoned the idea:

“Forget it... Listen up, there's something I need you to do now.”

The two fierce ghosts looked up with anticipation, excited tears of blood rolling down their faces.

“Capture more low-grade materials, then filter through this area and that area to find suitable materials... I'll send the selection criteria via phone in a bit...”