The swarm of ghouls looked like an ocean covered in white lotuses.
Below the dim sky, at the front of the boundless army, stood countless translucent remaining souls that looked like a mist when observed from a distance.
The remaining souls mostly belonged to the folks who died miserably in the natural disasters.
When they died in hatred, their souls would haunt the world after their death. Without the timely appeasement of the experience monks such as Master Bitter Cicada, they would take shape under the instigation of Mother White Lotus. Driven by their remorse and hatred, they were the vanguards and cannon fodder of the greatest quantity in the army of ghouls.
They were different shades. Those with the feeblest waves looked like steam popping up from boiled kettles. Their color was so thin that they could barely be recognized as humans.
