Quinn Lee had left. The Dragon was still feasting, and I waited. Quinn Lee, already inside the great hall, told us that to reach Jialan City, we needed to pass through the Jialan Mountain Path—a place that was special, existing even before Brother Owen and his monks took over Jialan City.
Lord Wraith once tried to bypass the territory of the Underworld Court and attack Jialan City directly, but every attempt ended in failure.
The strangest thing about the Jialan Mountain Path is that ghosts cannot fly there—they can only walk. Jialan City sits among a cluster of mountains, and those surrounding peaks are what make up the Jialan Mountain Path.
What’s even more peculiar is that Jialan City has always had this name. When Quinn Lee first became a Blue Wraith a thousand years ago and arrived here, Jialan City was already standing, filled with Buddhist temple architecture. Quinn Lee even went to see it himself.
The temples were empty, scattered across the mountains. Most unusual of all, Jialan City was suffused with a power that made ghosts afraid.
When Brother Owen arrived, he went straight to Jialan City. In just a few hundred years, he managed to carve out three territories in the Barrens, dividing them with Quinn Lee and Lord Wraith.
Even Quinn Lee found it strange. When Brother Owen first arrived, he was in poor shape—barely a Blue Wraith—and personally came to Circle City to visit Quinn Lee.
Quinn Lee didn’t think much of it and greeted him casually. After all, Brother Owen was just a weak Blue Wraith then. But in only a hundred years, Brother Owen had risen to stand shoulder to shoulder with Quinn Lee.
Back then, neither of them could match Lord Wraith, so naturally, they grew closer. It was around that time that Quinn Lee received the black sphere Brother Owen used for communication.
So Quinn Lee naturally knew what the black sphere was. But now, with Lord Wraith gone, the Barrens—once peaceful—had begun to erupt with disputes, large and small.
All the ghosts in this region knew that one day, Quinn Lee and Brother Owen would have to settle who was superior. The facade of peace had long since been shattered.
Just then, Quinn Lee stepped out. I looked over and saw him carrying a large sword wrapped in cloth on his back. He looked spirited and walked over, picked up the wine on the table, took a sip, and said:
"Let’s go, you two. Time is short. From here to the Jialan Mountains is only a few dozen minutes, but to walk the path will take at least seven days."
The Dragon reluctantly stood up, licking his greasy fingers. He grabbed his wine, took a swig, and let out a breath. Quinn Lee was already ahead of us, flying west. I hurried after him with The Dragon.
Arriving early would be to our advantage. If Brother Owen was preparing something, then the days before the Jialan Ceremony would be the best time to investigate.
Gradually, the landscape came into view—a vast expanse of towering mountains, their peaks needle-sharp, piercing the sky. The colors of the peaks were strange, a rainbow of hues, and their shapes varied greatly.
Some peaks were like jagged spikes, others bulged out and stacked like layers of clouds. In the distance, under the gray sky, I was even more amazed—there seemed to be strange colors shimmering faintly, bizarre and unsettling.
"You’ll understand once we get there, Brother Zhang," Quinn Lee said.
I grunted in response. Quinn Lee led us down, and soon we arrived at a broad road entering the mountains. I stared in amazement—the cliffs on both sides looked as if they’d been carved by knives, sculpted with uncanny precision. On those cliff faces, I could faintly make out many inscriptions.
After a closer look, I recognized only the swastika; the rest of the characters were unfamiliar. They must be Sanskrit—I’d seen them before at Universal Temple.
"Brother Zhang, these inscriptions weren’t written by Brother Owen. Let’s keep moving."
I let out a sound of surprise, then followed Quinn Lee into the mountain pass. The cliff colors were strange, but the road itself was barren—nothing but emptiness.
As soon as we entered, the path began to climb. The slope grew steeper, and the road narrowed, just as Quinn Lee had described.
Ghosts in these mountains seemed to be under a strong suppression, unable to fly and forced to walk the treacherous path.
I kept looking around at the Sanskrit on the cliffs, unable to read most of it. Each cliff face was different—the arrangement and style of the Sanskrit varied.
"There’s only one exception—Brother Owen and his disciples can fly freely here." Quinn Lee said.
The Dragon was still struggling, trying to use his powerful ghost energy to fly.
"The Dragon, we’re already in enemy territory. Better keep a low profile," Quinn Lee said.
The Dragon looked bored, sighed, and resigned himself to walking obediently.
At that moment, a question occurred to me: If Quinn Lee hadn’t come here often before, how did he find the way through these mountains where flight was impossible? I couldn’t help but feel puzzled.
"City Lord Quinn, do you really know the way?" I asked.
Sensing my doubt, Quinn Lee pointed to a nearby purple cliff.
"Strange as it sounds, the cliffs here come in seven colors—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. The path must always pass by the violet cliffs. My men investigated thoroughly: before Brother Owen arrived, if you didn’t follow the violet path, you couldn’t reach Jialan City at all."
Quinn Lee continued, pointing to a nearby blue-green cliff.
"If you reverse the color sequence—violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, red—you’ll reach Spiral Ridge outside Jialan City. Once you can’t see the violet cliffs, switch to the blue-green ones and keep following the sequence. That’s how you get there."
We kept walking. The mountains were riddled with forks in the road. Quinn Lee led us along the violet cliffs; after a while, another fork appeared. The place felt like a maze, and I kept feeling as if we were going in circles.
Inside Jialan City, aside from Brother Owen’s followers, there were no other ghosts. Only during banquets could outsiders be seen. Over these few days, many ghosts had probably arrived for the Jialan Banquet. Only those with invitations could pass through the checkpoints guarded by Brother Owen’s eight disciples and enter Jialan City.
This time, Quinn Lee was invited, so he could use his invitation to pass. We disguised ourselves as his servants, wearing clothes made from Chaoswood, so we wouldn’t be easily exposed.
Gradually, I noticed that not only were there Sanskrit inscriptions on the walls, but also, in many places—on the mountainsides, or at the peaks—there were numerous carved Buddhist statues, sitting or lying, looking very strange.
Those Buddha statues were exquisitely carved—some dignified, some benevolent, some fierce-eyed. All sorts of statues stood among the mountains, reflecting every aspect of humanity.
"Ethan Zhang, it’s been two years," he said.
I nodded and walked over, excited. Master Swallow stood up, grinning, and reached out his hand. I grasped it immediately.
"Master Swallow, how did you..." I began.
I hurried forward, grabbing Quinn Lee’s hand.
I nodded. Quinn Lee, looking hostile, stared at Master Swallow.
At that moment, I hurried forward, rounding the mountain path. Now there were only six colored roads—no more violet. A monk sat by the roadside, gulping wine. It was Master Swallow, Brother Owen’s senior disciple, Benson Chu.
"Ethan Zhang, it’s been two years," he said.
I nodded and walked over, excited. Master Swallow stood up, grinning, and reached out his hand. I grasped it immediately.
"Master Swallow, how did you..." I began.
"Definitely, The Dragon," Master Swallow replied.
I looked at The Dragon in surprise. It seemed he’d gotten along well with Master Swallow and the others over the past two years.
"You’re a member of the Renegade Monks," Quinn Lee said.
"Indeed, I am," Master Swallow replied.
Master Swallow didn’t hide anything, and just then, The Dragon walked over.
"Ah, so it’s Master Swallow. Heh, if we ever get back, let’s have a drink together again," The Dragon said.
"Definitely, The Dragon," Master Swallow replied.
I looked at The Dragon in surprise. It seemed he’d gotten along well with Master Swallow and the others over the past two years.
"Ethan Zhang, there are some things I want to discuss privately. City Lord Quinn, The Dragon, you two go ahead. Before you reach my junior Benjamin Ming’s checkpoint, wait for us at the end of the red road."
After Quinn Lee and The Dragon left, Master Swallow led me to an orange stone and sat down. He tossed me his wine jug.
"Now’s the time to drink, Ethan Zhang," he said.
I nodded, took a gulp, and felt a burning sensation from my throat to my stomach.
"Good wine. I finally get to taste it, Master," I said.