The street remained unchanged, shrouded in its usual gloom. Though most had fled, those who stayed clung stubbornly to their routines, as if habit alone could ward off the darkness.
I still hadn’t found the Deathbane Wraith. Last night, after hearing that chilling laughter, I scoured the rubble nearby, but nothing—only shadows and silence.
Tonight, after closing, I’ll return again. There’s still heaps of trash left, hulking and untouched, waiting in the dark.
Behind the register, beneath the chair, the plant had already grown to ten centimeters. Its tendrils crept along the cabinet’s surface—I draped some things over it, hiding its unnatural growth from prying eyes.
Lately, the streets have been crawling with Black-Clad Figures. Last night, after I returned home, I found signs that someone had broken in—searching for traces of John Chou and his companions.
The Dark Banquet’s agents are growing desperate. Whatever’s happening, it must be tied to the Fourth Darkness—a shadow deeper than most can imagine.
In less than ten minutes, three waves of Black-Clad Figures had passed my shop. Their search was relentless. Regular customers whispered that every district was the same—these agents of the Dark Banquet were everywhere, hunting.
Most Dark Residents remain numb to this organization; its machinations are distant, its menace indirect—at least for now.
All I can do is endure, trapped within the shop, waiting for a sliver of opportunity to escape this suffocating routine.
Finally, closing time. I tidied up quickly, but as I reached the door, a crowd of Black-Clad Figures blocked my way. The Replicator stood among them, his gaze empty and unsettling.
"What do you want?"
"Ethan Zhang, where are John Chou and the others hiding?"
I glanced around, searching for escape or allies.
"Can’t you hunt for them yourselves?"
"Hmph. You know exactly where they are."
I ignored The Replicator, brushing past and shoving aside a few Black-Clad Figures.
"Don’t stand in my way. If you want a fight, I’ll give you one."
I spoke with cold finality. Suddenly, The Replicator materialized before me, swift as a shadow.
"John Chou stole our experiment—the Dark Heart—and used it for something. Do you truly know nothing of his whereabouts?"
I kept shaking my head, refusing to yield.
"Don’t come to me. I told you—I don’t know."
"Heh, Ethan Zhang, keep stalling and your only chance to return to the living world will be three months from now—one single day. Miss it, and you’ll rot in this darkness for decades."
I halted, teeth clenched, shooting The Replicator a venomous glare.
"Bastard. You lot are truly insidious. If my power wasn’t sealed, I’d smash your face in right now."
My fists tightened. The Replicator sneered, his cold hand dropping onto my shoulder.
"If you see John Chou, make sure he doesn’t waste this rare chance. Miss it, and the suffering stretches on for decades. For us, it’s nothing. For you—it’s torment."
The Replicator vanished, leaving those words to fester, burning in my mind.
"No room for haste."
I murmured, rising from the ground, drifting toward the spot where I’d dumped the heavy trash last night. I found a hiding place and kept watch, but the darkness stayed silent.
The Replicator’s words gnawed at my thoughts. He was right—if escape meant waiting decades, I’d shatter long before then.
Hours passed into deep night, still nothing. Just as I was about to turn back, they appeared—the Deathbane Wraiths, moving as one to haul away the massive trash. Seizing the moment, I shot toward a trio of them.
With a thunderous crash, the cabinet they carried smashed to pieces. The Deathbane Wraiths scattered in a frenzy.
"Can you come out?"
I shouted, but none of the Deathbane Wraiths reappeared. I had no idea how they vanished—so I kept calling out, voice echoing, waiting in the oppressive dark.
Morning crept closer. Defeated, I sighed and left.
For several nights after, the Deathbane Wraiths were nowhere to be found. I searched every trash pile I could, but came up empty. More than twenty days remained before I could meet John Chou and the others.
I resolved to hunt for the Death Curse, but with so many people lost in the shadows, the search felt hopeless—a puzzle with no solution.
"There’s a way."
Back in town, I found a print shop and churned out stacks of missing person flyers. It was the most direct approach—handing them out to anyone who would take them, hoping for a shred of information.
Every day, I flooded the streets with flyers, bribing acquaintances to send them to contacts in other districts. Money changed hands—anything to widen the search.
I had no idea if this would work, but desperation left me no choice. Maybe Deathcurse, like Isabelle Frost, had already found his own solution while implanting artificial souls. Maybe, just maybe, he’d see one of my flyers.
Ten days slipped by. Only ten remained. Behind the register, the seed had sprouted black vines, creeping slowly along the cabinet—an omen of something unnatural.
I hadn’t spotted any Black-Clad Figures lately, but rumors swirled—they were sweeping through other districts, leaving no shadow unsearched.
Tonight, I resolved to return to the rubble, hoping to catch a glimpse of those shadowy figures—the Deathbane Wraiths.
Decision made, I closed up early. With business dead, I headed home to change into something less conspicuous.
Just then, my cousin arrived. I glanced around; he shut the door quickly, his senses sharp and wary.
"Anything wrong, cousin?"
He nodded, face grim.
"I found my master—and my grandmaster."
I stared, stunned—Master Richard Ming and Master Jianyun.
"What happened to them?"
My cousin shook his head, helplessness etched in his features.
"They’ve been stricken with The Stilled."
My eyes widened in dread. Now we had to venture into the Shadowwood to search for three rare medicines, but time was slipping through our fingers—and I had no idea where to begin.
[Omit this line—it is a system message, not part of the narrative.]
"So what now, cousin?"
"Grandmaster wants you to come."
I blinked, gave a quiet assent, and followed my cousin. We moved cautiously, circling to a dilapidated courtyard near my house—his residence. Inside a cramped hut, I found Master Richard Ming and Master Jianyun, sitting cross-legged in silent meditation.
Master Jianyun was completely overtaken by The Stilled, eyes shut but barely breathing. Master Richard Ming seemed paralyzed, yet could still speak.
"Master Richard Ming."
I called out, and Master Mingde nodded.
"Benefactor Zhang, I have heard the sound of Buddha. I hope to resolve this disaster."
"Disaster?"
I swallowed in surprise, and Master Mingde nodded.
"This place is being destroyed, and all its inhabitants will die. I wish to guide them to the Western Pure Land, so they may escape this suffering."
"What do you want me to do, Master Mingde?"
Master Mingde glanced at my cousin, who then took a tattered kasaya from Mingde’s arms. The faded swastikas on it told of its age.
"Keep this safe, Benefactor Zhang. When the day of disaster arrives, follow the guidance of Buddha. Amitabha."
With those words, Master Mingde closed his eyes and became motionless. I studied the kasaya carefully; it was clearly ancient.
"I’ve heard it’s a relic of Master Liaoyuan. Since Master Mingde asked you to keep it, take good care of it. I’ll stay here and look after the two of them."
I nodded, tucked the kasaya into my robe, and left.
Suddenly, I sensed a disturbance. Killing energy surged from within me, and with a whoosh, a shadow swept past—one of the Dark Banquet’s men.
"Bastard! What are you trying to do?"
I spun around, raising my Killing Qi Sword and rushed into the house. Master Mingde and Master Jianyun had already been seized by the Dark Banquet’s men. The Replicator pressed a hand to my cousin’s head, rendering him unconscious.
"So you’ve recovered, Zhang Qingyuan."
"Let go of my cousin!"
I roared and lunged forward, thrusting my Killing Qi Sword at the Replicator.
"Just stay put, Zhang Qingyuan. Think carefully about what I told you. As for your cousin and the two monks, we’re taking them with us."
As I watched them about to vanish, I tried to turn my body into a shadow, but with a buzz, I was flung to the ground.
The Replicator stood before me; my cousin and the others had disappeared.
"You bastard."
I tried to get up in fury, but immediately realized I couldn’t move—my arms and legs were pinned. The Replicator glared coldly at me.
"Zhang Qingyuan, tell us where Yin Choujian and the others are, or you’ll regret it. Those two monks may mean little to you, but that kid—he’s your cousin, isn’t he?"
I gritted my teeth, desperate to rise, but I couldn’t move. Anxiety gnawed at me.
"Think carefully, Zhang Qingyuan. Well? Can you tell me?"
I hesitated, torn inside. My cousin had only just recovered—if these bastards hurt him, what would I do?
With a whoosh, a streak of black energy swept past my ear, striking at the Replicator. His eyes widened as he dodged, and the black energy hit the ground with a sizzle, turning into a pool of liquid.
"Who’s there?"
The Replicator looked around warily. I sensed something was wrong, and so did he—a wave of nausea hit him. He floated up, his body shifting into shadow, but in an instant, he collapsed in front of me.
"Who is it? Show yourself!"
With a roar, a pack of black wolves leapt at the Replicator. He dodged, landing nearby. With a crash, the whole room collapsed, and I saw a black dome covering the area.