A faint snoring echoed through the room. I sat quietly at the desk, occasionally glancing at the Wraithlord, who had already fallen asleep clutching the Blank Desire Tome. Inside, it felt as though something was scratching at my heart—I was desperate to open the book and see what was written on the very first page.
Now, I could see the contents of the book with complete clarity. Just as the Wraithlord had said—unless you truly believe the book contains something, you’ll never be able to see its contents. My perspective had shifted; the series of events that just unfolded left me feeling bewildered and incredulous.
But I understood one thing—the characters "Wraithlord" on the book’s cover could transform into an immense surge of ghostly energy. Yet the ghosts formed from this energy had no soul fragments, which deeply surprised and unsettled me. To put it simply, these things resembled the ghost spirits found in the Shadow Realm, created by the Green Wraith: mindless, obedient manifestations of ghost energy.
The one thing I couldn’t figure out was this book. The characters "Wraithlord" on the cover could transform into such vast ghostly energy. Only by using the power of Awakening could I pinpoint the convergence points of this energy. Then, with a single strike, I dispersed the ghostly energy, forcing it back into the cover.
This Blank Desire Tome seemed to be written by the Wraithlord himself, yet his Human Soul didn’t recognize the author as himself. I kept pondering this question.
If what the Wraithlord said was true, then the book should contain insights he personally attained—ninety-nine pages in total. The Wraithlord himself admitted he’d only seen seventy-eight. I was eager to keep reading; if I could finish all ninety-nine pages and truly comprehend them, my power would become unimaginably strong.
Perhaps this book was written unconsciously by the Wraithlord over tens of thousands of years, while his conscious mind remained completely unaware. No one else could see it either. The reason I could see it was likely because I’d fought the Wraithlord and spent so much time with him here.
Next would be the so-called comprehension, just as the Wraithlord described. It wasn’t mere combat—one had to fully grasp the contents of a page to turn to the next. I had just comprehended the secrets of the cover. It was a strange sensation: when the ghostly energy gathered and formed those fiends, I sensed something was off. Only after entering the Awakening did I realize these ghosts lacked soul fragments.
Then, I clearly sensed the convergence point. When I struck it directly, the ghostly energy dissipated, and I was able to open the second page.
I was still waiting for the Wraithlord to wake up, eager to learn more about the secrets within the Blank Desire Tome—my impatience was nearly uncontrollable.
The Wraithlord finally stirred awake. I rushed over, reaching for the book, but he quickly tucked it away and gave me a sleepy smile.
"Let me borrow it again, just for a look."
"Didn’t you just call me an idiot?"
I was speechless for a moment, but then I couldn’t help but laugh.
"I’ll catch up to your progress soon enough. Once I do, how about we study together?"
I repeated my request. The Wraithlord glanced at me sideways, smiled, and shook his head.
"I need a few days to study this properly. I can’t lend it to you yet. Wait until I’ve fully grasped it, then we’ll talk."
I gave a resigned hum. It looked like I could only wait. Soon after, the Wraithlord sat down at the desk, and I quietly stood behind him. He began turning the pages, and I curiously noticed that, aside from the words on the first page, the rest showed only strings of incomprehensible black shapes—nothing like writing at all.
When the Wraithlord reached page seventy-eight, the surface was already covered in a patch of deep black. He studied it with intense concentration. I had no idea what was recorded there, nor could I sense anything from it. I stood by for nearly half an hour, watching his face shift between light and shadow, as if he were pondering something profound.
"Why don’t you tell me what’s on that page? Maybe I can help you think it through. If there’s something you can’t figure out, maybe I’ll understand it."
The Wraithlord looked back at me, a hint of annoyance in his eyes, and shook his head.
"Even if I told you, you wouldn’t be able to understand. Everything recorded here progresses in sequence. If you can’t grasp the earlier contents, you naturally won’t understand what comes after."
"How do you know I won’t understand if you don’t tell me?"
The Wraithlord stared at me, skeptical, then turned back to the book. He gazed at the patch of blackness on the page for a long while before finally closing it—he seemed to understand something, but was still troubled by confusion.
"There is power in words. But what lies within power itself?"
I looked at the Wraithlord, bewildered.
"Is that what this page is about?"
I asked, and immediately thought of Word Command, as well as Wang Jianhui and the Wang family. They all belonged to the House of Word Spirit. Wang Jianhui should have already brought back the funeral ghost squad for the Immortality Society, and as for the old monster, no one knows where he’s gone. That power is indeed something special.
And Lin Qujian once demonstrated his Blood True Word. I couldn’t understand how such power was achieved—it seemed overwhelmingly strong.
Especially in that horror story, the ghosts written by Wang Jianhui’s father truly came to exist—and could enter the real world. Afterward, that horror story was never mentioned again. Now, it remains in the hands of the Immortality Society, and the Wang family possesses the power to rewrite stories and manifest their ghosts into reality.
Such power is truly hard to comprehend. I only have Zhang Qingyuan’s memories, but I haven’t experienced it myself—especially when Zhang Qingyuan saw the Word Spirit script used by the old monster in the Forest of Desire, and the Blood True Word Lin Qujian used in the Cave of Nai Luo. Is there a connection between the two?
"Is it the power of Word Spirit?"
I asked, and the Wraithlord looked up at me in confusion.
"I didn’t expect you to know about this kind of power."
Seeing the Wraithlord’s faintly disdainful expression, I laughed.
"Tell me specifically—what is it you don’t understand? I can help you think it through. I’ve seen the power of Word Spirit many times before."
The Wraithlord closed the book, stretched lazily, and drifted toward the water. I followed him, and we came to the lakeshore, where he yawned.
"The book says the Word Spirit has the power to destroy heaven and earth. Heh, I’ve never managed it, not even once."
As the Wraithlord spoke, he raised a finger. I watched silently as he began to move his hand through the air, as if writing. A smear of black energy seeped out, and soon he wrote the character for 'explode' on the surface of the Lake of Desire.
I watched in confusion. Suddenly, a deafening boom echoed, and the waters of the Lake of Desire burst apart. Huge sprays of water flew in all directions, and I saw the airborne droplets continue to explode in midair—this force seemed to come from the water itself, not from any external power.
I stared at the black character for 'explode' floating in the air, growing larger and larger, as the sound of explosions kept rumbling. The water splashes resembled bombs, constantly detonating as they flew through the air.
Gradually, as the explosive character faded, everything settled down. I watched it all, incredulous.
"See? How could this power ever be called world-destroying?"
Just as the Wraithlord said, this power could hardly be called world-destroying, but even such a light gesture could make all the water in the Lake of Desire erupt. I looked at the Wraithlord, and suddenly he turned to me, extending his finger.
A large black character for 'death' appeared on my chest. With a muffled sound, I didn’t even realize what had happened before black blood began to spurt from my body. I felt my strength unraveling bit by bit, while the Wraithlord watched with a satisfied grin. Frustration flared up in me, and in that instant, a surge of power burst out from my ghost soul.
The bleeding and the abnormality in my body soon stopped.
"See? This power is far too weak. Even writing 'death' on your body couldn’t kill you." The Wraithlord chuckled.
I nodded slightly. Though I felt some discomfort, it wasn’t anything serious. But what the Wraithlord said before—there is power in words, and something within that power—still left me puzzled.
Gradually, everything calmed down. The Wraithlord floated up, and I quickly followed. He accelerated, motioning for me to keep up. I transformed into a streak of black lightning and moved to his side.
Gradually, we saw the Forest of Desire ahead. With a soft thud, the Wraithlord and I landed before a massive pit.
"I’ve tried many times. This power really is too weak."
I smiled slightly and shook my head. For me, or for other powerful beings like Green Wraiths or masters of the spell world, this power might be useless. But against ordinary folk, it’s absolute.
Because once power reaches a certain level, any force too weak can be completely resisted—whether it enters the body or strikes from outside. You can rely on your own strength to be fully immune to these lesser forces. Spell power is one such example.
Thinking back to the overwhelming spell power in the Yang Realm, with my current strength, if I went there again, those spells would pose little threat to me.
At this moment, the Wraithlord strolled slowly toward the forest, and I followed behind.
"What are you planning to do?" I asked.
"I want to see if I can destroy this forest. If not, then this power really is too boring."
I quietly watched as the Wraithlord approached the forest’s edge. He crouched down, raised his right hand, and began to move it through the air.
A huge black character for 'fire' appeared in the air, and then the Wraithlord sent it toward the forest, making it grow larger and larger.