Nightfall descended, and Song Jian, who had slept all day, was spirited and full. After a meal, he checked his supplies and headed toward the cemetery he had visited the day before.
The cemetery still bore the signs of yesterday's battle, with many tombs shattered. Song Jian could see bones overturned, glowing with a phosphorescent green light under the cover of night.
Sword in hand, he cautiously made his way deeper into the cemetery. As he passed each tomb, he prepared for the possibility of spectral ghosts lunging at him.
He walked more than ten meters without encountering any spectral ghosts. A furrow settled on Song Jian's brow, "What's going on? Could it be that after yesterday's battle the spectral ghosts got scared and dare not come out? That's impossible!"
Just then, he suddenly felt a tremor beneath his feet. A skeletal hand emerged from the dirt and clutched Song Jian's ankle.
