A moment later, the chains binding the huge monk’s head glittered, and it went still.

Xu Qing looked up at it, his pupils constricted. Then he looked away and studied his surroundings.

Grues and ghosts filled the streets. He saw one that looked like it was made from paste, walking along and using a pen to apply eyeliner to its face. He saw another that dripped slimy fluid as it walked along accompanied by a group of six-eyed ghost bugs. He saw what appeared to be a three-year-old child with bright red eyes, long ears, and reddish-black skin, skipping along happily.

Lounging on a distant rooftop was a hairless cat licking a blood-soaked, severed head that it held in its paws. The black mist that surrounded it made it obvious it was a monster of some sort.

There were all sorts of headless, beastly forms, usually made of either bones or mist. Some floated, some crawled, some sat on other ghostly beings, some flew in the air, and some existed as hosts of ghost faces, cackling noiselessly as they snapped at each other and moved down the street. All of them exuded vicious and baleful auras, as well as a sensation of deep hunger.

Xu...