"You'll have to ask her yourself, Ethan Zhang. You'd better be careful. The wound you received will respond to your sense of pain—your subconscious will want to avoid it, but desire is always lurking close by."
With that, Isabelle Frost turned around and walked toward the Octagon Tower.
Clutching my chest, I struggled to calm myself. In that instant, I understood exactly what Isabelle Frost meant: my wound would hurt, and pain was unavoidable. No matter how composed I tried to be, no matter how much I avoided thinking about the wound, the pain was real.
My subconscious could be the death of me. That was the fatal part—whenever the wound hurt, my subconscious would want to make the pain stop. That's when desire would strike, making the wound expand and the pain intensify. Even though I'd managed to resist desire and forget the pain for now, if I slipped up even a little, the wound would worsen. I could even die here.
At this point, there was no way I could cross the river to check on Yvonne Yang. Even the slightest movement sent pain shooting through my wound. But I knew I couldn't just keep sitting here. Desire was already creeping in—there was a strange sensation beneath me. When I looked down, I saw roots had already sprouted. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stand.
I had no choice but to endure the pain and wander through the forest for a while. Eventually, I decided to head back and lie down for a bit. When desire was about to surge again, I would get up. But as I walked, it hit me—this was all Isabelle Frost's doing.
It was Isabelle Frost who told me to try cutting down the tree. In the end, I didn't manage to hurt the Desire Tree, but I did manage to hurt myself.
Step by step, I approached the Octagon Tower. Standing below it, I saw Isabelle Frost sitting on the second floor, leisurely sipping tea and reading a book I couldn't identify.
"So, what am I supposed to do? Could you at least..."
Isabelle Frost's movements were graceful as ever. She set down her book, took a delicate sip of tea, and looked at me.
"Figure it out yourself, Ethan Zhang. If you truly want to master your current powers, you have to rely on yourself. Until you can release your own desire, I won't do anything or say anything. Even if you're about to die, that's how it will be."
Her words left me feeling exposed and awkward. I forced a smile.
"Thank you."
After that, I continued to circle the forest. My wound now ached faintly and itched. Although the bleeding had stopped, any lapse in focus would start it bleeding again—and make it worse.
Judging by the sky, it was still early. I decided to check out the Desire Pit. Carrying a lighter mood, I slowly headed toward the distant pit, which was still visible. There were no trees over there.
Step by step, I walked closer. Suddenly, I saw a pile of strange rocks—no, people. I stared in shock. Each one had turned completely to stone. There was no pit.
This place, at a glance, was filled with stone people in all shapes and sizes. But their faces showed nothing but terror—the final look of despair and fear before petrification. Some seemed to be drinking water, some running, some eating.
"They all lost to desire."
I muttered to myself, then walked over and reached out to touch one of the statues. The cold stone suddenly cracked with a snap and gradually crumbled into pieces, sinking into the ground.
I circled around the edge of the statue pile, walking for a while, then resting. With each breeze, the statues would shatter, crumble, and sink into the earth. But before long, new statues would appear.
Looking at these statues, I remembered the last time—I hadn't seen them, but I'd experienced it myself, when one of my own feet turned to stone. I gave a wry smile, then stood up and headed back into the forest. It was nearly mealtime, and my stomach was already growling. I decided to go to the river for a drink of water first.
As I reached the riverbank, I was surprised to see Yvonne Yang coming toward me. She still looked vacant, crouching by the water like a wild animal, curling her tongue and drinking. After a while, she sat by the river, quietly watching in this direction.
I stared at her in shock. She wasn't looking at me, but in her pitch-black eyes, it seemed she saw something—as if I were invisible.
Then I saw her mouth move, tongue pressing against the top, lips parted, as if mouthing two words. I watched quietly, and after a moment, she spoke them again. This time, I understood—it was 'big sister.'
"Ethan Zhang, what are you staring at? It's time to eat. Are you hoping for a repeat of last night? If several desires strike at once, you really could die."
Isabelle Frost spoke. I smiled, turned away, and glanced once more at Yvonne Yang, who kept repeating 'big sister.'
I wanted to ask Isabelle Frost, but from her demeanor, I knew she wouldn't tell me.
While Isabelle Frost ate, I turned away, not wanting to watch. What she was eating was too luxurious—I didn't want to stir up my own appetite.
After quite a while, I heard Isabelle Frost finish eating. Only after she left did I return to the table and eat a bowl of plain rice. By then, Yvonne Yang had disappeared.
I walked toward the Octagon Tower. Isabelle Frost was still on the second floor, drinking tea and reading. I asked her a quick question.
"What are you looking at?"
Isabelle Frost shot me a glare but didn't answer. I didn't press further. The day was nearly over. I lay quietly in my little nest, feeling my wound—finally, it seemed to be healing. I sighed in relief. For now, it only itched, which was better than pain.
After nightfall, the temperature outside dropped sharply. I felt it again and decided to sleep. Just then, the sound of a guzheng drifted over, just like last night. I looked up.
As always, Isabelle Frost sat playing the guzheng.
"By the way, you seem pretty familiar with John Chou and Mr. Brown, don't you?"
I blurted out. Suddenly, there was a sharp twang as a string snapped on the guzheng. Isabelle Frost looked at me, and I instantly fell silent.
Thinking back, whenever John Chou saw Isabelle Frost, he never looked her in the eye—not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't dare. Mr. Brown, on the other hand, always seemed deeply respectful toward her. Suddenly I realized—his attitude was just like toward John Chou.
Could they be relatives?
I considered it, then glanced at the deepening night outside. I shut my eyes.
The next morning, after waking, my chest itched so fiercely I nearly scratched it raw. The itch was maddening, but I jolted and stopped myself just in time.
I absolutely couldn't scratch—it was clear to me. If I did, the wound would break open, and I'd have to endure that intense pain again. So I got up, flailing my arms and legs, bouncing around, trying to ease the itch with gentle movement.
Itching is nothing like pain. You might grit your teeth and bear pain, but this time, the itch in my chest exploded all at once. Eyes shut, head spinning, I felt awful. I burst out laughing—the maddening itch made me break into a run.
I knew perfectly well this was desire, but I couldn't control it. The itch was so strong, I just wanted to tear the skin from my chest.
"I can't take it anymore!"
I shouted, and suddenly felt my feet sinking. I looked down in shock—my feet were trapped in a mire. I panicked, but quickly shut my eyes, enduring the itch in my chest. Just a moment ago, I'd subconsciously wanted to escape this place.
So, the ground beneath me turned to a mire—maybe it would trap me here forever.
I quickly let go of the urge to flee, forcing myself to relax. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
Isabelle Frost sat quietly on a nearby tree, bending the whole trunk under her weight. She perched on the trunk, chin in hand, watching me with a broad smile.
After a long while, my body had sunk completely into the earth, but the mire vanished.
Luckily, I held on. The itch eased up a lot, but now I had a new problem—everything below my head was buried in the dirt.
"Can you..."
I was about to ask Isabelle Frost to help pull me out, but then I reconsidered and smiled.
"I'll figure it out myself."
I started thinking. This forest was filled with every kind of human desire. These desires were like the grime left behind in souls after ghosts crossed the Bridge of Sighs and drank the Forgetfulness Soup—washed out and accumulated here.
This place could be called the dumping ground for desires from the living world. All kinds of human cravings existed here, and even a stray thought could unleash them, sending things spiraling in the opposite direction.
"How does she do it?"
I recalled yesterday, when Isabelle Frost destroyed the entire forest with a single gesture, completely unaffected by desire.
I was puzzled.
"Don't overthink it, Ethan Zhang. My power can't be bound by anything, not even the desires here."
I stared at Isabelle Frost, dumbfounded.