At first, the vertigo bothered Tuhu, but like the coolness of frigid water, it eventually retreated into the backdrop of his mind. Soon, he could focus on the cold air blowing past his ears and the hunger gnawing at him.

His stomach grumbled.

When was the last time he ate? For how long had he been falling? At least half a day perhaps... He searched his surroundings for hints but could only see darkness, darkness that gradually melted into murky grey.

A powerful light source seemed to glow from afar, its eerie white seeping through the thick fog. Tuhu could catch the smell of incense, of ashes left cooling on an altar.

Tuhu still couldn't distinguish anything beyond the tip of his nose. Even his feet were shrouded by fog.

He had no idea where the smell came from or what awaited him at the bottom of the pit – if there was even a bottom. He didn't know whether he was falling toward deep water or hard stone ground. He could survive with a painful plunge into some underground river, or he could be reduced to broken bones and mashed flesh.

Whichever it was mattered little to Tuhu. He never understood why people were so afraid of height, why some would refuse walking through a narrow suspended bridge hanging from two cliffs or would tremble as they glanced down during a mountain climb.

"What if I fall? What if I die?" they would sometimes ask a confused Tuhu.

Death. What made it so frightening? Why did soldiers so readily raise a white flag during a losing battle? Why did villagers hand bandits all their possessions when at gunpoint?

Everyone died. Everyone would eventually. So, what difference would it make to die today or tomorrow or a month later?

Tuhu's musings were soon interrupted as his feet fell on soft sand.  Unexpectedly, he could barely feel the force of the impact – or perhaps, there was none. He felt as if he simply sank to the bottom of some sea.

Lightly. Gently. Like some lost stone sculpture from a sunken ship.

A cloud of dust rose around his legs, leaving pale grey traces on his golden robe. The fog was less dense, but he still couldn't distinguish anything in his surroundings.

Tuhu wanted to approach the light source, but now that he was at the bottom of the pit, the light seemed to come from above. He couldn't tell its direction, just like how one couldn't tell above which patch of ground the sun was really shining from.

So, Tuhu wandered in the direction he was already facing.

Silence weighted heavier than the fog in the underground desert. Only Tuhu's breathing and the crunch of something hard under his sandal could be heard.

He lifted his foot. The object seemed to be a broken dry branch at first. It had the length of half a thumb and was as thin and white as pork rib left in an empty soup bowl.

Tuhu picked up the branch. It was hollow and brittle, cracking under pressure then dissolving into bits and dust.

The image of an outstretched arm, scorched and blackened, flashed in his mind.

It was no branch.

It was a bone. The dust all around him was no sand either. It was too coarse and too fine and stuck to the skin too easily.

He was in a desert of bones and ashes.

A subconscious part of him suggested that they were human remains. As Tuhu resumed his aimless journey, he wondered whether the pit was some sort of tomb or a dump where remains of enemies were secretly discarded.

The latter seemed most likely given the location of the pit, but Tuhu had never seen his brothers light incense sticks for those they burned.

The fragrance of incense was now stronger, filling Tuhu's lungs with the soothing sweetness of herbs and oils.

He could distinguish the first hints of greenery – or rather 'blackery'. Ebony rectangular leaves sprouted from the ashes in groups of four. They bent at their weights, curving at two thirds of their heights. Still, most were as tall as a man's waist. They were thin but large, stretching to the width of a man's palm. They cut through clothes like sharpened blades, splitting the fabric cleanly.

Fortunately for Tuhu, although they became denser, they remained scattered, the closest of them standing a meter apart; he easily avoided them as he traveled through the fog that grew lighter by the step.

Tuhu heard the voices before he distinguished the fuzzy shadow of the tall structure.

At first, the low pained moans sounded like incomprehensible complaints of patients in a temporary army infirmary. As he approached the structure, he could distinguish distinct voices – the deep bellow of some man or the sharper cries of some woman. Some pronounced relentlessly the same names; others called for their mothers or fathers. They each repeated a single name like some curse.

As Tuhu walked further, he arrived at the foot of a tower taller than any building he had seen, stretching into the fog high above. It was a stack of cubic cages, each with the height of a grown man. Its base was as wide as some foreigners' bank in the city.

Some cages were empty; others contained human-sized creatures that resembled 'tadpoles' made of black smoke. They floated on the tips of their tails. The howls seemed to come from their gaping mouths as round and large as grapefruits.

As soon as they seemed to notice Tuhu with the fist-sized hollows they had as eyes, they rushed toward him only to clank against metal bars.

Tuhu approached the cages. He wasn't exactly intrigued. Since his path was not yet hindered by the metal bars, Tuhu simply saw no reason to stop or turn.

The tip of his nose was about five centimeters away from a bar and the snarling 'tadpole' inside when a deep inhuman bass resounded through the whole desert, making Tuhu's bones vibrate.

"Halt!" the voice ordered. Tuhu halted.

From each of the four corners, the sky, and the center of the tower base, a blue flame flew across the air, leaving a trail like a shooting star. It traversed any solid without setting it aflame then gathered at Tuhu's right.

When all six touched, they expanded into an oval shape. As the flame subsided, Tuhu realized that it was an opera mask. Blue flames sprouted from its behind, seemingly lifting it in the air. Save for the chin and the areas around its eyes, which were black and white, the ceramic face was purple.

"Purple for righteousness and serenity," General Wu had explained when they had once invited a troupe to their camp. According to him, the dominant color of a mask reflected the personality of the character it represented.

Assoon as Tuhu turned around to face the mask, its lips moved,and the same voice came out, "How dare you trespass this sacred land, Mortal?"

Tuhu blinked. He didn't know that he was trespassing, nor did he know what response the mask was expecting. He had the feeling that, despite the intonation,the mask wasn't asking a question. So, he remained silent.

The mask waited for a while but, since it still received no reaction, it added, "Don't you know how dangerous the Living Dead are?"

"Jiangshis [17]?" Tuhu confirmed. He never heard anyone directly use the term "living dead", but the hopping (stiff) corpses were the only dead but living creatures that Tuhu knew fromchildhood ghost tales.

"Not only them." At Tuhu's confusion, the mask turned toward the cages. "These Wild Ghosts can be as dangerous."

Tuhu glanced at the Ghost that still attempted to break through the robust metal bars. It growled and cried like a madman. The mask seemed to anticipate Tuhu's thoughts.

"No home for the 'lonely souls and wild ghosts'. [18]" The mask turned toward a puzzled Tuhu, who had never learnt the meaning of the idiom. "They are 'Wild' not for their fierceness but for their aimlessness. They wander blindly in Hell; for, they have lost sight of the Gate to the Mortal Realm. Unlike the others, they do not even harbor the desire to reach the Gate. All they desire is qi [19] to satisfy their hunger and the presence of the one they yearned for the most when they died..."

The mask turned back to the cages. "Can you hear them cry? This one, here, he found such vile pleasure in torturing his wives; he even drove some to suicide. Yet, the one he yearns for the most is a woman, the mother he has never met... No, contrary to what most travelers thought, he never directly killed anyone; he didn't even inflict anything physical on his wives. He tormented them only with the cruelest words. So, you may ask, 'Why is he a Wild Ghost? Why is he among those with the least amount of qi?' You see, Mortal, your kind not only lose qi due to the amount and type of sins you commit. The motive also plays an important role. Crimes committed out of pure sadism are some that consume the most qi. Of course, among sinners of such crimes, the man who kills out of sadism loses more than the man who speaks out of sadism. However, if one is to commit enough petty crimes and lose as much qi as consequences, they may as well end up in the same state as the cruelest sinners... You seem lost, Mortal."

Tuhu was. He had been lost in thoughts since the first sentences.

Hell? Was he dead? But the mask kept calling him "Mortal" as if he still resided in some mortal coil. But if he was alive, how could he be in Hell?

"Do you know nothing about Hell?"

"No."

"What about Life and Death?"

Tuhu knew that people came to life when they were taken out of their mothers and that they died when they were shot in the heads or when their heads were chopped off, but the mask seemed to be looking for more.

"I don't know," Tuhu admitted.

The mask scrutinized him.

"You dress like a monk, yet you know little about Life and Death," it remarked. For the first time in his life, Tuhu tried to avoid someone's gaze. "How did you even find yourself here?"

"I fell."

"Where did you fall from?"

"A crack." The mask leaned closer.

"Where was the crack?"

"In a desert."

"And why were you in a desert?"

Why, indeed? Tuhu had been walking in a bamboo forest when the fog appeared. When it dispersed, he had then found himself in the desert. So, was it because he took a walk or because he walked into the fog? How could he tell? The fog could have been there all along; perhaps, he had simply never walked far enough before. In this case, did he find himself in a desert because he had walked too far then?

"I'm not sure," he admitted.

The mask remained silent for a while then seemed to dismissively wave an invisible sleeve, "No matter. If you are here, then it must be the Heavens' will."

"Alright."

"When mortals die, their souls come here. Their only chance at another life is through the Gate. Sometimes, living mortals, like yourself, also find themselves here. Some, like experienced monks or other cultists, come here for meditation or favors. Others wander here without knowing why... Have you learned any spells during your apprenticeship? Not the mantras for meditation, but ones that fight demons and ghosts."

"No." The mask nodded.

"It is exactly as I have feared," it seemed to tell itself. "You must leave here at once, Mortal." It met Tuhu's gaze. "To reincarnate, a ghost, a dead soul, needs a certain amount of qi. Some mortals die with enough; others, the Living Dead, don't and attempt to steal other travelers' qi. Any Living Dead can smell travelers' qi, will pursue relentlessly those with the most – mortals and the more innocent Dead – and suck their qi out of them through bites. Now that you are here, Mortal, they will come for you."

"Alright."

"It is worse than what most of you mortals believe. Once you lose all your qi, you don't simply die and find yourself here. No, you vanish. Whether you are alive or already dead, you simply cease to exist. You won't find yourself anywhere, and you won't be able to reincarnate," the mask emphasized.

Tuhu, however, didn't understand why this was "worse"and, thus, why he needed to leave. In fact, he had never planned to do anything besides walking straight forward. However, since the mask had suggested it, he decided that he should. Besides, he was hungry and would love to drink some temple porridge once he returned.

"I cannot guide you to the Gate nor can I protect you beyond this desert though," the mask assumed Tuhu's intention. "I might be as old as time, but the path to the Gate is still a mystery to me; I have been bound to this desert since I can remember. As I am a spirit of Hell, with no qi at all, I cannot see the Gate. Those who returned successfully do not remember the path when they came back after death, and those who failed – well – they have vanished... However, if this is part of the Heavens' will, then you will find the Gate however arduous your journey is."

"Alright."

"Come now. I shall take you to the border of this desert."

Footnotes

17. jiangshi (僵尸) or chiang-shih in Wade-Giles translates literally to "stiff corpse". It is the 'zombie' in Chinese mythology. It eats living creatures' qi or life force instead of their brains, however. Since the jiangshi is usually as stiff as its name suggests, it can only move by hopping around. It may or may not be the same in the story.

18. "No home for the 'lonely souls and wild ghosts'" is a translation of the author's attempt at writing rhyming phrases "孤魂野鬼 无家可归". "孤魂野鬼" ("lonely souls and wild ghosts") is a Chinese idiom. In its literal sense, it describes the type of ghosts. In its figurative sense, it refers to the homeless or the aimless wanderers.

19. qi (气) or ch'i in Wade-Giles literally translates to "breath" or "air". In traditional Chinese culture, qi is the vital force, the essence, of a living entity.