It hadn't been a few minutes as Lu Sheng lay on the barren ground, snoring softly as a somber fog started to swirl around him. The air was thick with a melancholic weight, as if the very land mourned the countless sacrifices it had witnessed. A burial ground of the martyrs who are restless and still looking for solace, a final peace. Yet, oblivious to the sorrowful atmosphere, Lu Sheng slept soundly like a child.
[Wake up, Host. Wake up!]
"What?…" Lu Sheng mumbled, reluctant to open his eyes. "I was just about to get to the good part… why wake me up?"
[It's the ghosts.]
"GHOSTS!??" Lu Sheng's eyes snapped open as he looked around in panic.
Slowly, the fog began to coalesce, forming ethereal shapes that danced at the edges of his vision. Whispers, faint and indistinct, carried on the stale breeze, like the lamentations of restless souls. Lu Sheng stirred, furrowing his brow as the haunting murmurs wormed their way into his subconscious.