A young woman, around twenty years old, walked through the dark, empty, pitch-black void at a calm and unhurried pace. Her steps were elegant, as though she were strolling through her own garden, yet indifferent, as if nothing in existence was worthy of her attention.
Her deep red ruby eyes were cold and emotionless, standing out sharply against her beautiful, pale face.
She wore a fitted crimson dress that clung to her full, voluptuous curves, accentuating her thick figure and giving her a presence that was terrifyingly stunning rather than merely beautiful.
A high collar wrapped around her pale neck, while a long black cloak with a deep red inner lining rested over her shoulders, fluttering softly despite the absence of any wind, lending her an air of cold, untouchable nobility.
Behind her, a pair of large, bat-like black wings slowly spread and folded. With every step she took, countless galaxies and stars were crossed, as though distance itself held no meaning before her.
After some time, she came to a halt, as if reaching the very boundary of the universe itself. She raised her hand and pressed it against what seemed to be an invisible wall.
The moment her palm touched it, the void rippled.
With a casual wave of her hand, space tore apart like fragile paper, revealing a deeper, darker emptiness within.
There was no change in her expression as she stepped forward into the darkness.
The instant her figure crossed the boundary, the shadows swallowed her whole, erasing her presence from existence.
Behind her, the torn opening quivered briefly before slowly sealing shut.
The void stitched itself back together, seamless and silent, as if nothing had ever passed through.
Deep within the darkness lay a realm of its own, vast and endless beneath a perpetual night sky.
She did not pause. She did not look around.
Her wings fluttered once more, carrying her calmly onward.
This was not a realm of the living… but a realm of Living Dead. The legendary Netherworld… the final destination of all souls after death.
Every Pure Soul that died would eventually drift into this place, where it would be subjected to countless trials and judgements, all measured under the Dao of Karma.
Only after enduring them would a soul be permitted to move on, shedding its past life and entering the endless cycle of reincarnation once more.
The sky of the Netherworld was eternally black and gloomy, heavy Yin clouds hanging low like a suffocating curtain. An oppressive aura permeated the air, pressing down mercilessly on all living beings who dared to enter.
Even powerful cultivators would find their souls trembling beneath its weight.
The woman's wings fluttered softly once again, unfazed by the crushing atmosphere, as she continued onward, her figure calmly moving deeper into the realm of the living dead.
With each step she took, she crossed vast regions of the Netherworld… aging volcanic magma rivers, towering Yin Ice Mountains, scorching Yang deserts, and countless other forbidden lands.
She did not spare them a single glance, nor did she slow her pace, until she finally came to a halt before an immense mountain range, known as Death Mountains.
The mountain range pierced the dark, gloomy sky, rising to a height of nearly hundred million kilometres and stretching across a span of over ten billion kilometres.
The mountains were completely pitch-black with yellow veins like river flowing through them. They were blanketed in dense Yin Qi that grew thicker and more oppressive the higher one ascended.
At the very centre of the mountain range, where the land sank into its deepest abyss, stood a towering black structure… a colossal tower that pierced the heavens, rising nearly a million kilometres into the sky.
Compared to the surrounding mountains, it still appeared small… almost insignificant… yet the sheer height of it was a wonder of the universe itself, defying reason and scale.
Encircling the tower was a vast yellow lake, spanning several million kilometres in radius, with the tower standing precisely at its centre.
The lake's surface was eerily calm, reflecting neither sky nor light, as if it were completely dead.
The tower itself possessed exactly one hundred and one floors… and each floor was a world of its own.
This was the Tower of Hell, also known as the Netherworld Tower… a structure said to have existed since the very first cycle of life and death.
At the hundredth floor of the tower stood a majestic hall, solemn and boundless. A golden throne rested at its centre, radiating an overwhelming presence.
The ceiling vanished into shadow, carved with ancient runes that spoke of forgotten eras.
The golden throne itself emanated an oppressive brilliance, its surface engraved with symbols of death, judgement, and rebirth.
Surrounding the throne was a vast chasm filled with yellow magma… molten, yet eerily silent.
This was not true magma, but condensed Yin Death Qi… a terrifying corrosive qi capable of dissolving souls, spiritual bodies, divine artefacts, and even the law itself.
Divine souls, Immortal souls... or souls of an even tier of existence... would not be erased outright. Instead, they would be stripped down to their most fundamental state: a Pure Soul.
A Pure Soul could not be destroyed by any means, for it was safeguarded by the Heavenly Dao itself.
From cracks in the floor, this yellow Yin Death Qi poured endlessly like waterfalls, cascading down the tower into the unfathomable depths below filling up the lake.
The lake known as Death Lake, then split into countless streams, forming a network of Yellow Rivers that spread outward like veins across the immense mountain range, flowing on before finally vanishing into the void.
The beautiful woman, Lilith, flapped her wings and moved again towards the deepest parts of the Death Mountain. She only came to a halt some 100,000 kilometres from the colossal tower, having crossed the towering mountains and descended into the deepest part of the range.
She fully furled her wings, placing her hands behind her back as she hovered above the yellow lake, her face perfectly calm, betraying no hint of emotion as she surveyed the vast expanse around her.
Finally, her gaze settled on the figure seated upon the Golden Throne on the hundredth floor of the tower. With deliberate composure, she bowed slightly before speaking.
"Greetings… Senior Soul Emperor Yama."
Soul Emperor Yama, the supreme governor of judgement, life, and death.
His body was nothing more than a pristine skeleton, yet it radiated an authority that eclipsed even the gods.
Each bone gleamed faintly, etched with ancient runes, as though the very laws of reincarnation had been carved directly into his frame.
Draped over his skeletal form were flowing black robes, heavy and solemn, embroidered with golden patterns depicting the endless cycles of birth, death, and judgement.
A golden crown rested upon his skull, its central gem glowing with a cold, azure light. Within his hollow eye sockets burned twin flames of cyan-blue soul fire… calm, merciless, and eternal… capable of gazing through past lives, present sins, and future karma alike.
In his right hand, Soul Emperor Yama held the Nether Staff, its shaft forged from some unknown black material. At its peak rested a carved skull wreathed in ghostly blue flames, flickering in utter silence.
Each pulse of the staff sent invisible ripples through space itself, reinforcing the absolute authority of judgement.
Beside the throne lay the Book of Life and Death, its ancient cover cracked with age, bound by dark chains that hummed softly with suppressed, unfathomable power.