Title: "The Descent of the Ghost King"
"Your Excellency Director," someone finally broke the silence, their trembling voice drawing the attention of the entire room. All eyes turned to Bai Yingxue, desperate for direction in the face of looming annihilation.
Bai Yingxue remained frozen, her expression betraying a flicker of hesitation. She had prepared herself to die, intending to drag a handful of the evil spirits down with her. But now, as her gaze swept over the endless tide of specters darkening the heavens, the truth struck her like a thunderbolt.
Her death wouldn't matter.
Whether she killed a handful of spirits or even dozens, it would be but a drop in an ocean. Against this overwhelming horde, her sacrifice was utterly meaningless.
For the first time in her life, Bai Yingxue faltered. The weight of despair threatened to crush her resolve as she realized the futility of resistance. The chasm of power between them was insurmountable, like a starship from an advanced interstellar age facing an ancient wooden galleon.
Her mind, trained for strategy and survival, failed her. A strange thought crept in unbidden—one she had never entertained before. She found herself yearning for divine intervention, for the aid of gods she had never believed in.
In this moment of despair, she silently whispered a prayer, though she doubted any gods were listening.
Above the city, the skies boiled with malevolence. The evil spirits swirled like a tempest, their distorted forms shifting as they cackled in ecstasy.
"Jie jie jie, the human world… Finally, we've arrived in the human world!" one spirit shrieked, its voice a symphony of hunger and madness.
"Such a sweet aroma. The air itself carries the scent of blood and life. This world… it's paradise!" another chimed, its hollow eyes glinting with greed.
"Look at them—eight million blood bags, all ripe for the taking! Their flesh, their souls, their very essence… everything here belongs to us!"
The spirits howled, drunk on the freedom of their escape. They had endured endless torment in the ghost world, confined to its dark prisons. But now, they were unleashed upon a world brimming with life, their hunger insatiable.
"Let's begin! I can't wait to taste their fear, to savor their screams as I devour them whole!" one spirit snarled, its twisted body vibrating with anticipation.
For the evil spirits, the humans below were not merely prey—they were treasures, each life a source of immense power. To the spirits, consuming a human was akin to mortals consuming a rare and powerful elixir, each soul nourishing their strength.
High above the chaos, a figure loomed, its presence casting an oppressive weight over the horde. The ghost king sat atop a throne forged from spectral energy, its form both regal and grotesque. A crown of jagged bone adorned its head, and its eyes burned with a cold, calculating light.
"Master Ghost King, what are your orders?" a subordinate spirit asked, its tone deferential as it bowed before the throne.
The ghost king's lips curled into a sinister smile, its voice resonating like the tolling of a funeral bell.
"Patience," it drawled, its tone laced with cruel amusement. "Savor the moment. Let them drown in despair. Fear sweetens the soul, and I want their terror to ripen to perfection."
It raised a skeletal hand, pointing toward the city below.
"Begin the hunt—but leave no survivors. Today, this pasture of humanity becomes a banquet for the ghost world!"
The spirits erupted in gleeful howls, their forms descending like a plague upon the doomed city. The hunt had begun.