Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

It took Zhou Wenqing a long time to finally realize that he probably shouldn't be afraid of seeing ghosts.

Because it was obvious that he was already dead, and his soul had drifted away, meaning that he himself was a freshly made, uh, wandering ghost.

That seems to be the case.

But... what happens next?

Forgive him, it was his first time dying, he had no experience, and he looked around blankly, somewhat at a loss.

So, is that green light normal?

Will-o'-the-wisps?!

After waiting anxiously for a long time without any movement, Zhou Wenqing breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that he wouldn't end up being burned alive by will-o'-the-wisps.

Perhaps it was a hallucination he had before he died, and he might have misread it.

Zhou Wenqing thought for a moment, and then, somewhat unwillingly, tried to burrow into his own body dozens or even hundreds of times, but in the end, it just passed right through him and had no effect whatsoever.

It seems to be completely dead.

He shook his head helplessly, finally having no choice but to give up. He obediently floated beside the corpse, eagerly waiting to see who might be in the underworld—cough! What the hell? Come out and teach him the rules of the underworld.

Zhou Wenqing became obedient, listlessly lowering his eyes to stare at his pale face.

Uh... that's a bit weird. He couldn't stay still for long, and suddenly floated upwards quite a distance, unable to resist shouting:

"Aren't there any ghosts here to keep an eye on the new ghosts?!"

Of course, no ghost responded.

He gritted his teeth and tried to burrow into the ground, but he couldn't get in. It seemed that without a ghost to guide him, it was difficult to enter the underworld.

But why is there no ghost to guide them?

Could it be that... he died far from home, without a grave or tomb, so even his own ancestors refused to send a ghost to pick him up?

A wave of sorrow washed over Zhou Wenqing.

But this sense of desolation didn't last long before it dissipated.

Strange, how come the emotions of this tyrannical ruler, who no longer needs to rack his brains to please everyone and shamelessly flatter others just to survive, have become so stable?

He looked down in confusion at his translucent chest.

Oh, I forgot, if you don't even have a heart, and aren't even human, then what's the point of being sentimental or melancholic?

"Zhou Wenqing" swayed his ethereal body, somewhat awkwardly drifting a little further away, creating some distance between himself and his physical body.

He thought, in this broken world, there are countless people like him who are abandoned in the wilderness, while those who die of old age and are buried are few and far between. Surely the underworld can't be left without any arrangements?

King Han was so despicable that he would exclude and fear any capable minister or general, and he would kill his own retainers without hesitation. Yet, he still had a few diligent officials under his command who supported the country and managed its affairs.

Surely the king of the underworld wouldn't be without a single ghost official in charge of governing?

Perhaps there were too many new ghosts and they were too busy to keep up. It's normal that he, as an adult male ghost, was ranked a bit later.

Wait a minute.

So Zhou Wenqing waited from sunset to dawn, and from daybreak to dusk.

The sun rose and set, set and rose again, and he, like a mushroom that could never get any sun, languished in place.

Still, nothing came.

Even the stubborn soul beside him didn't arrive.

That's a bit off, isn't it?

But thinking back to when I was dying, everything was pitch black, and I only managed to stab with my last breath. I felt like I hit the target, but I couldn't see how badly the other person was hurt. Maybe... I missed?

Even if the puncture missed, after such a long time, the blood loss alone would be enough to turn a person into a dried-up corpse; it's unlikely that the person wasn't completely dead.

With a sense of doubt, he floated down to the servant and examined him closely.

Tsk tsk tsk, how should I put it, he was indeed filled with resentment when he died!

The longsword pierced through his abdomen, the hilt almost embedded in his flesh. It would be a miracle if he survived such a severe injury.

But why didn't any souls float out?

Zhou Wenqing floated cross-legged in mid-air, resting his chin on his hand, lost in thought.

He was unsure whether he was acting strangely or if the other party had made a mistake.

Perhaps he's too single-minded, even slow to realize when his soul leaves his body?