I quietly gazed at the black surface of the lake before me, a look of delight on my face as I clenched my fist. The Desire Ghost sat nearby, resting her chin on her hand, watching.
"How is it?"
I nodded and burst out laughing with excitement.
"I've truly mastered the power now."
For the past few months, I’ve been beside this black lake, surrounded by woods. The Desire Ghost brought me here. Within the water lies the most peculiar form of desire—Strong Desire.
This desire is unique—it has substance. For most people, it’s an urgent drive to win, an expression of restlessness. But once that desire flows here, it’s different from the others. Gradually, it takes shape. My Deathbane Aura has undergone a fundamental transformation. Driven by Strong Desire, it seems to have birthed its own consciousness, growing fiercely competitive.
The first month was excruciating. Every day, I endured the tearing of Deathbane Aura within me. This violent aura kept surging, fueled by Strong Desire. I struggled to restrain it, training daily. Strong Desire perfectly matched my urge to win. Gradually, I adapted to this power, my body grew stronger, and the Deathbane Aura kept increasing day by day.
I knew very well—I didn’t need to figure out those complicated matters. All I had to do was keep gaining strength. One day, I’d catch up to the Wraithlord, maybe even surpass him.
The Wraithlord hasn’t appeared for months. The Desire Ghost told me he’s been asleep in his room at the bottom of the lake. No one knows what happened—he just hasn’t woken up. The Desire Ghost has tried to rouse him several times, but he still hasn’t awakened.
I gazed quietly at the lake, preparing to soak myself in it again. But just then, the Desire Ghost’s expression suddenly changed.
Something has breached the Forest of Desire—a force so alien it warps the very air. Ethan Zhang’s resurrection stirs the supernatural currents, a warning that the ancient balance has been shattered.
My curiosity sharpened—I watched as the Desire Ghost drifted upward, her form distorted by the unnatural energies. I followed, and she led me through a kaleidoscopic passage at the forest’s heart, colors swirling with sinister intent. We emerged back into the Forest of Desire, where a heavy, unsettling presence pressed against my senses. The Desire Ghost and I moved toward it, dread thickening with every step.
“Wraithlord, at last you crawl out from the shadows.”
I taunted, my voice trembling with anticipation and unease. I wanted to test my strength against the ancient horror, but a chill swept through me—something was terribly wrong. The Wraithlord turned, his gaze cold and bottomless, lips curled in a predatory smile that promised suffering.
"Earthly Soul, the Hell Imprint has made you stronger than before."
“Care to challenge your fate?”
I met his gaze and asked, my words laced with defiance. The Wraithlord nodded, a gesture heavy with ancient malice.
Suddenly, the Desire Ghost surged forward, her form flickering with spectral terror, blocking my path. The air thickened—her intervention was desperate, a last barrier against the overwhelming darkness of the Wraithlord.
"He’s not the Wraithlord’s Human Soul! He belongs to neither the Living World nor the Bone Realm—he’s a fracture between shadow and delusion, a harbinger of ruin."
I stared at the Desire Ghost, confusion and dread twisting inside me. The Wraithlord’s laughter echoed through the Forest, a sound that shattered hope, then he shook his head, eyes burning with ancient intent.