I have no intention of paying any more attention to the living dead behind me. Pitiful as they are, everything they did in life led them to this state, and deep down, none of them have the slightest desire to resist. They drift through their days, and I have neither the obligation nor the reason to do anything for them.
The battle before me rages on. John Chou and Ronan Wu's ghostly energies clash violently—now it's become a pure contest of strength, each side waiting for the chance to deliver a fatal blow.
I've been like this for a long time. Compared to Ethan Zhang, I'm not as naïve as he is. There was once a person I tried to warn, advising him not to go out and to avoid places with water. The first time, he cursed me out. The second time, after something went wrong, he came to me again. I warned him once more, but from then on, he gave up. I never saw him again after that.
He was a boy in my high school class, naturally timid and often bullied. At first, I felt sorry for him, but later I realized he simply accepted his fate and endured everything. So I decided not to get involved anymore.
That boy was dragged by some classmates who always bullied him to a place rumored to be haunted, and they forced him to play a spirit-summoning game. After that, I knew a ghost had latched onto him. He was born with a weak aura. I warned him, but he didn't listen, so eventually the ghost really came for him—and even then, he showed no intention of fighting back.
He dropped out before graduation, supposedly due to mental issues. But I knew the real reason. I wasn't capable of dealing with that ghost, and the boy himself never had any will to resist.
From then on, I understood the gap between people. For those who never even think of fighting back, I might have offered a word of advice before college, but after that, I stopped saying anything. No matter how much I say, they won't take that step themselves. For people like that, I remain indifferent—no one can save anyone else. If you don't try to save yourself, no matter how much help others give, it won't matter.
The living dead behind me are just like those people I met back then—a reflection of them. Most of them simply go along with whatever happens, never truly resisting.
Later, I met Ethan Zhang. At first, he seemed just like everyone else, but gradually I realized he was different—different from anyone I'd met before, and even a bit like the old me. Though he feared ghosts, when things happened, he never backed down. Little by little, I was influenced by him.
"Miss, please help us!"
Uncle Lee continued speaking behind me. I shook my head, smiled slightly, and walked slowly toward the shore.
"Uncle Lee, in this world, no one can save anyone else, and no one can truly be saved. The only ones who can save you are yourselves."
With a thunderous boom, red and green lights exploded in the distant sky. In an instant, ghostly energy began to swell again—its quantity and quality far exceeding before. My body felt frozen. John Chou stood before me, surrounded by blood-red smoke, his face cold and steady as he stared at Ronan Wu.
"If we keep fighting like this, it'll be hard to tell who's going to win, John Chou."
Ronan Wu sneered as he spoke, while John Chou just shook his head indifferently.
"So? What are you planning to do, Ronan?"
John Chou asked coldly. Both of their eyes showed a hint of excitement. It was as if the fierce battle just now hadn't happened at all. Instead of depleting their ghostly power, it had actually increased. I leaned on Belle, quietly standing by the shore, watching intently.
A fight like this is still far beyond me—I can't reach this level yet. But I would never waste someone else's kindness.
"So I'm going to unleash even greater power!"
As Ronan spoke, his body bent slightly and he pressed a hand to his chest. John Chou's eyes flickered. Suddenly, the ghostly energy swirling around Ronan's body contracted violently, and soon his ghostly aura vanished completely. I stared wide-eyed, unable to understand what was happening before me.
But John Chou was already drifting backward. Ronan Wu's body emitted a constant creaking, bending bit by bit as if twisted by some immense force. He was desperately suppressing something.
With a ripping sound, Ronan Wu's white suit split apart, revealing skin as dark and rough as old tree bark. His cheeks grew pointed like awls, and from his temples curved black horns sprouted downward. Bit by bit, Ronan Wu turned into a monster—his whole body covered in dark green-black skin, his feet transformed into powerful animal hooves, and he looked nothing like a human anymore.
Little by little, Ronan Wu's conical head split open at the mouth, the gap stretching all the way to his pointed ears. His face became monstrous, with a savage expression and blood-red eyes that chilled the soul.
"Ah, this feeling is wonderful! I haven't unleashed my ghost soul in centuries."
Ronan Wu spoke, green gas constantly leaking from his mouth. Instantly, a hideous stench filled the air, and I quickly pinched my nose. John Chou remained motionless.
I'm not surprised at all by Ronan Wu's transformation. I've read about this in ancient texts many times—this is what a true ghost looks like, especially those who've lived for centuries or millennia. Their real forms are this ugly.
Just as humans have lifespans, ghosts have 'shadow lifespans.' Most ghosts who've lived over a thousand years are so old their skin hardens like tree bark, wrinkling completely. Their faces no longer resemble humans—the skin contracts, forming monstrous features. This is a ghost's true appearance.
Many ghosts use their ghostly energy to mimic their appearance in life, wanting to remain beautiful—it's human nature. The lower-level or newly dead ghosts are terrifying because they still look like they did at the moment of death, unable to use much ghost energy to change their looks. That's why they're so frightening.
With a boom, a ball of green fire ignited in Ronan Wu's right hand. The flames grew longer, and soon a great sword burning with green fire appeared in his grip. The hilt was adorned with three small skulls—red, black, and green—each with something clenched in its jaws. Hellish script ran along the blade, golden runes flashing with light.
"The reason I can't wound you is because of the Warden's Armor, isn't it, John Chou? You've hidden it well, but I know now."
John Chou looked at Ronan Wu in surprise and spoke, astonished.
"You figured it out that quickly, Ronan!"
Ronan Wu burst out laughing.
"This Soulflame Blade, forged from the fires of Abyssal Hell, rivals the soul artifacts of the underworld. Cutting through your Warden's Armor shouldn't be much trouble."
A chill pierced me to the core, as if half my soul was about to freeze. John Chou still didn't move, and he held no ghost weapon. I started to worry.
"Alright then!"
As John Chou spoke, I saw the red dust swirling around him instantly surge into his body. His form turned blood-red, and he began to change—his hands became razor-sharp claws, his head diamond-shaped, his skin bright red and shriveled like old tree bark. A thick tail appeared, and his legs grew powerful, just like Ronan Wu's.
Only, at the back of his head, red and black hair started to grow, becoming thicker and thicker. Two straight black horns sprouted from his temples, ringed with blood-red markings.
"You're fighting me with just the first form of Bloodbane. Do you really think you can win?"
Ronan Wu said coldly. John Chou smiled, raising one hand, and a black light appeared in his palm. My eyes widened in shock—isn't that the Bush Knife Emperor Yan gave me?
At that moment, John Chou turned his head to look at me.
"You use Belle, and in exchange, I'll use the Bush Knife. Is that alright, Rachel Lan?"
I made a sound of agreement without thinking much, but Ronan Wu seemed to notice something.
"A weapon forged from a substance I've never seen before—this knife is impressive!"
I couldn't be bothered to think about anything anymore and sat helplessly on the ground. But compared to the Bush Knife, I preferred the Belle John Chou had given me. I could feel Ethan Zhang's energy within it, and this ghost weapon didn't seem to dislike me. It fit perfectly in my hand, and most importantly, its gently curved blade was beautiful.
"Come on, Ronan. I don't want to drag this out any longer—there's no point in continuing like this."
As John Chou spoke, he charged forward with the Bush Knife. With a bang, their weapons collided, and green flames burst from the Soulflame Blade in Ronan Wu's hand, spreading and burning in all directions. The sky was filled with a scene like a green ocean, and the burning green flames made black snow swirl through the air.