Throughout the day, John Chou and I walked along the main road, placing red insects in the fields on both sides. We covered a vast area—John Chou left dozens of red insects in jars, and by tomorrow, these would multiply into hundreds. The fields stretched southward as far as the eye could see, with no end in sight.
John Chou once told me he had seen many ghosts coming from distant fields. After asking around, he learned that these fields stretched all the way to the border of the Wildlands Province. The wide roads were built to transport grain, and every month, the city's ghosts joined the harvest, loading the grain onto carts for delivery by large groups of wraiths.
But when we returned, we found Dean Ding snoring in bed. He hadn’t left yet.
“This guy...”
John Chou frowned and walked over, then kicked Dean Ding hard on the backside. Dean Ding woke up with a start and rubbed his eyes.
This phenomenon struck me as extremely strange. Ghosts don’t sleep—they only close their eyes to rest, temporarily losing consciousness. But it’s not true sleep, since even without awareness, their senses remain sharp, and the slightest disturbance wakes them instantly.
But Dean Ding really did look like he was sleeping.
“This is a trait of Born Wraiths. Just like humans, they need sleep—and sleeping is the best way to restore ghostly energy.”
“What’s up, John Chou? You guys finished? Come drink with me.”
Soon, Dean Ding called for someone downstairs to bring up a table of food. We started drinking again. Only then did I learn that Dean Ding had settled here centuries ago—most locals knew him, but didn’t think highly of him. He was lazy and gluttonous, often freeloading at nearby wraiths’ homes. Because he was strong, few dared complain. Occasionally, he’d help transport grain if needed.
Dean Ding was also well acquainted with the Boarhead Soldiers, often drinking with them. Whenever he helped deliver grain to the Red Ridge Fortress, they paid him extra. On the surface, Dean Ding was just a Calamity Wraith, but he wasn’t alone—many here were Born Wraiths like him.
Born Wraiths like Dean Ding differ from ghosts created from humans or animals. When hungry, they can eat wild grass from the roadside or even digest the soil of the ghost realm, never worrying about starvation. That’s why these Born Wraiths can work for long periods without food, making them reliable laborers.
“But back to the point, John Chou, does your damned plan really work? If manpower is used, won’t all the insects you released be caught? And if they’re discovered...”
“That won’t happen.”
John Chou smiled, took a sip of wine, and I stared at the large bowl Dean Ding filled for me, forcing myself to drink slowly.
“Tomorrow, you leave for the Realm of Heat. Once you arrive, report back with everything you’ve learned here.”
Dean Ding nodded, leaned back, and smiled contentedly.
“But I still think life here is comfortable. War might sound exciting, but after a while, I can’t stand it. I just hope my hometown doesn’t get caught up in it.”
I looked at Dean Ding—his eyes showed resignation. John Chou finished his wine.
“Once it starts, no one can stay untouched. I told you long ago—this world is full of disappointments.”
Over the next few days, John Chou and I kept busy, releasing thousands of red insects into the fields and forests. The insects multiplied rapidly. What puzzled me was how John Chou always seemed troubled lately, though I had a good idea why.
“When will you finally leave?”
Dean Ding crawled out of bed again, rubbing his eyes, reeking of alcohol. He yawned and spoke.
“What’s the rush, John Chou? Let me enjoy myself for a few more days!”
It was obvious John Chou was getting anxious. No one knew what was happening in the Wildlands Province. He’d said before that, if possible, the Underworld Court’s army should march on the Wildlands and attack directly—at least to find out what was really going on.
“Alright, I get it. I’ll leave tomorrow for sure.”
Dean Ding finally patted his chest and spoke up, but John Chou still looked at him with disbelief.
“I’m not joking with you.”
John Chou spoke each word deliberately. This time, Dean Ding dropped his joking expression and got serious.
“I get it, John Chou. Once you’ve regained your strength, you’ll have to gather the Hundred Ghosts, right?”
John Chou nodded, and Dean Ding broke into a wide grin.
"It's been so long since I've seen those guys—I really miss them. John Chou, I hope you don’t treat everyone like that again. Everyone trusts you. Even after all these years, I think they still do."
John Chou tilted his head, silently gazing out the window, then a faint smile appeared on his lips.
"Let’s hope so."
The next day, many wraiths gathered at the gate in surprise—Dean Ding was leaving, and even the Boarhead Soldiers came to see him off.
"I’m heading to Blazing Fields to meet a friend. I’ll be back in a few days—hahaha!"
Many looked relieved, as if hoping he’d never come back.
John Chou and I stood in the crowd, watching Dean Ding leave with a small bag on his back, walking slowly out. Outside the checkpoint, lines of wraiths still waited.
Many wraiths who came here found work catching insects in the fields. These insects could be fried, boiled, or roasted—delicious either way. They even got paid regularly for it.
Days passed, and I grew anxious. More than half a month went by. Every day, John Chou drank and played, but never told me the next step. Even if the insect disaster broke out, what were we supposed to do? He just smiled, refusing to say a word.
"Be honest—if the insect disaster breaks out, what are we supposed to do?"
"You’ll know when the time comes, brother. Don’t worry. Even if you knew now, you’d just get more anxious. Just wait."
Day after day, I grew fed up with the boredom. I was worried about the Living World, especially about Roxie Lan, and couldn't calm down.
"This is about the right time, brother—hehe."
John Chou and I stood in a field of purple plants that had grown a meter tall. Oval fruits were starting to form, nearly ripe. It had been 29 days—tomorrow would mark the one-month deadline John Chou mentioned. Every day, I saw the crops grow a little taller.
I also noticed the city's wraiths, carrying bamboo cages and dragging carts, ready for harvest. John Chou said all the wraiths would join in, and after the harvest, they’d get food and money—a pretty good deal.
The harvest took three days. Afterward, the crops turned black and withered, crumbling into the soil. Then, it was time to plant again.
"If you wanted to sabotage things, you should’ve done it before the fruits formed. Why pick the 30th day?"
I stared at John Chou, confused. He just smiled.
"Tomorrow, you’ll know, brother."
"Tomorrow again?"
I held a bowl of wine, sitting by the window, quietly watching the distant fields. Many wraiths were already resting. Though the ghost realm had no day or night, no real sense of time, most wraiths still chose periods to rest.
"Brother, today will be busy—hehe."
John Chou said this, then sat cross-legged on the floor and closed his eyes. I noticed something strange—his ghostly energy seemed completely drained. In front of me, John Chou looked like an empty shell. I couldn’t help but walk over to him.
"Don’t do anything, brother. I’m using my power to control the insects now."
I turned away. Behind me, John Chou was half-transparent, just a faint outline.
"It’s bad—the crops are starting to wither!"
Suddenly, I heard a shout. I saw wraiths rushing toward the fields. I looked around and floated over too. Up close, I saw the plants withering rapidly. Some wraiths hurried to pick the ripe fruit and toss them into baskets.
I joined in. Wraiths scrambled to pick fruit, while others found red insects in the soil.
More and more wraiths hurried over.
"Listen up—once your baskets are full, deliver them to the fortress. Move quickly!"
Many wraiths said they’d never seen these red insects before, and their speed at devouring roots was terrifying. I saw large patches of black soil, all caused by the crops withering. Some wraiths panicked as the trees behind us started to wither, turning into black debris on the ground.
More and more wraiths dug up red insects from the soil. Everyone knew they were the cause. Then, a hand tapped my shoulder—I turned to see John Chou, who handed me a basket with a cold smile.
John Chou and I hurried to fill our baskets with ripe fruit, tossing everything in. Once full, we floated away from the fields, heading quickly toward the fortress deep in the mountains.