The tunnel ended in a wall. Just a wall.
"Hold tight."
Lyra Vane didn't hit the brakes—she welded the gas pedal to the floor. Her mechanical eye smoked as she stared at that skull-painted dead end, pupils filled with pure madness.
"Ram it!"
Ethan Cross's translucent right hand passed through the armrest, grasping nothing.
*CRASH—!*
The concrete wall shattered like a hologram. Weightlessness engulfed them as the SUV plunged into gray void.
Below yawned bottomless abyss, countless phosphorescent tracks crisscrossing like blood vessels. The 30th parallel rift—forbidden to the living.
"Jump!" Ethan Cross roared.
The moment wheels touched track, rubber aged and exploded. With sizzling sounds, the steel chassis visibly rusted, as if aging centuries in seconds.
They tumbled onto a coal-dust platform.
Looking back, that two-ton SUV had become a pile of rust-brown powder. One gust of wind, and nothing remained.
"Those are..." Lyra Vane knelt on one knee, black oil leaking from her mechanical eye.
In the darkness, hundreds of crimson eyes blazed to life.
*Hehe... living flesh...*
*Tender meat... so fragrant...*
Starving ghosts. Too cowardly for the underworld, they hungrily eyed Ethan Cross's mother on his back.
Drool fell, corroding the ground.
Lyra Vane drew her broken blade, blocking Ethan Cross's path. "I'll hold them off, you—"
"Save your strength."
Ethan Cross pushed her aside, adjusting his nonexistent tie. His nearly transparent right hand pulled out the black ledger.
The hungry ghosts lunged, claws inches from his throat.
"Want to eat me?"
Ethan Cross didn't even blink, slamming the ledger open and shoving it in the lead ghost's face.
"Come on, open wide. Three thousand years of karmic debt—whoever eats me pays it back."
*WHOOSH—!*
Blood-red numbers blazed in darkness: **[Current Debt: -3000 years]**
The ghost shrieked like it had seen a nuclear bomb, screeching to a halt mid-air and nearly breaking its spine.
*This wasn't food—this was poison!*
One bite would transfer this debt capable of crushing the Ten Kings of Hell. Eternal damnation? That was the light punishment!
"Run! RUN!"
"It's a pauper! Super pauper!"
The vicious ghost tide fled like seeing plague incarnate, wailing as they shrank into shadows, instantly clearing a royal road.
Several ghosts jumped into the abyss just to get farther away.
"Heh, bullies who fear the strong." Ethan Cross closed the ledger. "These days, debtors are the real bosses."
*WOOOO—*
A mournful whistle. A green train hung with white lanterns tore through space, crushing countless screaming souls as it approached.
Doors slid open, cold wind rushing out.
A paper conductor stood in the doorway, face painted with eerie rouge, smile rigid.
It raised a razor-sharp finger, blocking their path. "Tickets. Ten years of life force per person."
Lyra Vane gripped her blade. They were all fugitives now—where would they get life force?
Ethan Cross strode forward like he was going home.
"No money."
The paper figure's eyes rolled, smile instantly splitting to reveal rows of saw-tooth fangs. "No money? Then pay with flesh—"
*SMACK!*
Ethan Cross backhanded the ledger across its face.
"Are you blind?"
Ethan Cross pointed at the massive **[King Jizo Seal]** on the ledger, voice colder than this underworld. "I'm your underworld's biggest debtor. If I die here, who's going to cover three thousand years of bad debt? You?"
The paper figure's fangs retracted.
It stared at that astronomical number, cold sweat soaking through its papier-mâché face.
*Three thousand years of bad debt!*
If this lord had an accident on its train, when the Yama King audited accounts, not only would it get thrown in the oil cauldron—they'd melt the entire train for compensation!
"Sir... oh my! Master Cross!"
The paper figure instantly bent 90 degrees, fawning so hard it could wring water from its face. "This lowly one was blind! Deserves punishment!"
"First class! Quick! Throw all those paupers out of that car! Make room for Master Cross!"
It groveled like a lapdog, shouting at the economy cars behind: "What are you staring at? Get to the cargo hold! No sense at all!"
Ethan Cross expressionlessly stepped through the door, glancing back at Lyra Vane frozen in place.
"What are you waiting for? Get on."
He adjusted his glasses, eyes flashing with cunning light.
"Since I'm the biggest debtor, time to meet the creditor. I'll make him understand—he'll never collect this money unless he begs me."
---
**Chapter 7: Cyber Fengdu**
*RUMBLE—*
The train shuttled through dimensional tunnels.
First-class sleeper compartment. Red carpet, leather sofas. VIP treatment.
Ethan Cross settled his mother, watching the **[00:179:00:00]** countdown above her head. His rigid spine finally relaxed a fraction.
"Your hand."
Lyra Vane sat across from him, voice trembling slightly.
Ethan Cross's right hand had become holographic static, fingertips flickering and disappearing like a faulty projection. He tried to grab cigarettes, but his fingers passed straight through the pack.
"Karmic backlash."
Ethan Cross picked up cigarettes with his left hand, self-mockingly smiling. "The system judged me a bug and is running deletion protocols. Without an anchor point, I'll be completely gone in 24 hours."
"How do we save you?" Lyra Vane cut to the chase.
"Performance."
Ethan Cross took a deep drag, nicotine restoring some sense of reality. "The underworld's corporate now. I need to prove to that Fengdu Emperor that keeping me alive is more profitable than killing me. It's called 'debt restructuring.'"
"And if not?"
"Then I'll have to sell you to cover the debt."
Ethan Cross made an unfunny joke.
Lyra Vane didn't laugh. She suddenly reached out, her scarred and callused hand firmly grasping Ethan Cross's fading right hand.
So warm.
Palm heat flowed through that phantom hand, and the static's flickering actually slowed.
"Then sell me." She stared into Ethan Cross's eyes with the same calm as discussing how many people her blade had killed. "This life was bought by you anyway."
Ethan Cross froze. The sensation from his fingertips was long-lost "existence."
**[Next stop: Fengdu City. Please prepare your urns, souls. Civilized reincarnation.]**
Static crackled through the announcement. Mist cleared outside, revealing a breathtakingly magnificent city.
Ethan Cross expected to see Yama halls, oil cauldrons, the Bridge of Helplessness.
He was wrong.
This was a **cyber ghost city**.
Thousand-zhang skyscrapers built from obsidian and white bones pierced blood-red skies. Countless holographic ads wove through the air, illuminating the netherworld brighter than Las Vegas.
**[Tired of reincarnation queues? King Qinguang VIP lane—50 years merit, guaranteed rich kid next life!]**
**[Meng Po Soup new formula: Strawberry flavor launched! Forget your past, second cup half price!]**
**[King Jizo Financial—make money after death! 300% annual returns!]**
Paper cars spewing phosphorous fire shuttled overhead while mechanical-limbed skeletons haggled with traditionally-dressed ghosts below.
No judgment here—only transactions.
No justice—only price tags.
"This is the company you want to acquire?" Lyra Vane stared at the massive holographic billboards, mouth twitching. "Looks... completely rotten."
"Totally rotten."
Ethan Cross stood, gazing at this city reeking of monetary decay, greed in his eyes surpassing any demon's.
*To him, this wasn't a ghost city—this was the universe's largest money-laundering center, a field of golden opportunities!*
"Rotten is good."
Ethan Cross straightened his collar, his translucent hand grasping at empty air as if seizing all of Fengdu.
"If it wasn't rotten, how would a profiteer like me get to take over?"
Doors opened.
Ethan Cross shouldered his mother and stepped off first.
The moment his feet hit ground, several ox-headed and horse-faced figures in suits, braids, and tablets surrounded them.
"New arrival? Know the rules?"
The lead ox-head swaggered with bureaucratic thug attitude. "Want in the city? Get a residence permit first. Standard permit costs one year life force, VIP permit..."
*BANG!*
Ethan Cross kicked its kneecap.
The ox-head screamed and collapsed. Just as it prepared to rage, a black business card spun past, embedding three inches into concrete.
**[Pawnshop No. 13 • Cross]**
"Tell your boss."
Ethan Cross stepped on the ox-head's shoulder, looking down at these underworld civil servants with an ice-cold smile. "The biggest creditor is here for an audit."
He checked his watch.
"He has ten minutes to crawl out and see me. Otherwise, I'm filing for bankruptcy liquidation and auctioning his Yama Hall!"