Everything before me was unbearable; I struggled with all my strength, refusing to let the dense black aura swirling around me invade my body. Purple flames began to wrap around my skin, slowly forming a crust. A wave of dizziness hit me.
"If you really can't hold on, let me take over."
The voice of Rachel (Shadow Self) echoed in my mind. Gritting my teeth, I shook my head, feeling a deep sadness within. So much sorrowful energy swirled around me, trying to devour me. I could sense the looming Rivers Mansion ahead, drawing closer to me.
Gradually, I felt weaker and weaker. Even the flames couldn't dissolve this sorrowful force that completely trapped me. I started to move, dragged forward bit by bit by this overwhelming sorrow.
With a thunderous boom, the black sorrowful energy before me scattered. Accompanied by a loud creak behind me, a fierce banging sounded—a huge crash. I turned around. The double doors had closed. I was now inside the Rivers Mansion.
"Evan Zhao, come out!"
I shouted, instantly unfurling my wings. Feathers of purple flame smashed out in all directions. To my astonishment, when the flaming feathers struck the Rivers Mansion, they vanished as though sinking into water. I raised the Phoenix Blade in my hand, igniting a fierce purple flame, and hacked at the doors.
With a crash, there was no explosion. Instead, my Phoenix Blade pierced directly into the door. Where it entered felt like a swamp, slowly dragging my weapon forward. I gripped the Phoenix Blade tightly, but my entire body was pulled to the side of the door. The crystalline flame crust on my body began to crack, and the crumbling power of the Vermilion Bird was sucked into the door.
With a bang, I crashed straight into the wall. A surge of force hit me. I clutched my aching forehead, furious, and pressed my hand against the door—only to find it rock-hard, impossible to break through. I punched and kicked it several times, but the door didn't budge. Just as my flame flared up, it was absorbed into the door like mud.
"It absorbs power."
I hurriedly backed away from the door. Every time I tried to use my power, I felt myself being pulled toward it. After a few more attempts, I realized that everything outside Rivers Mansion was now shrouded in darkness. It felt as if I was trapped inside a haunted house swallowed by the night.
"Evan Zhao, are you there?"
I shouted again, but Evan Zhao didn't respond at all.
The Evan Zhao I saw earlier must have been completely overtaken by his Shard of Sorrow. I called out, hoping to awaken the real Evan Zhao, but it was useless. I had been swallowed by Rivers Mansion. The walls here were strange, absorbing power, and I couldn't think of any way to escape.
The ruined Rivers Mansion looked exactly as I remembered, except now there was an extra door. I walked between the two great pillars of the main hall. To the left of the stairs was the spot where Evan Zhao’s Shard of Sorrow had squatted for centuries. I glanced at it, feeling nothing.
Rivers Mansion was enormous, with two small courtyards on either side. The main house rose three stories high and boasted a grand hall. Behind it stretched a vast backyard. I walked into the hall, gazing at a carpet long since rotted away. In the center, a round table remained, but only its surface and a few broken chairs were left.
Stairs led up on both sides. I took the right and climbed to the second floor, opening the back window to see the overgrown yard below. Many small houses dotted the backyard—quarters for the Rivers family's workers.
Back when the Rivers family was at its peak, nearly fifty or sixty workers ate here every day, all locals who helped tend the orchards and fields. Old Man Rivers treated them well, never skimping on food, and their wages matched the harvest and sales each year. He even handed out red envelopes during holidays.
The Rivers family was a blessing to this town, thriving on the mountain forests cleared by their ancestors. Thanks to Old Man Rivers’s hard work, the family business flourished—until Evan Zhao’s departure brought it all crashing down. Looking at the desolate scene before me, I couldn’t help but sigh.
"Little lady, I didn’t expect you to really come inside."
Startled, I spun around and saw Old Man Rivers. He sighed and walked over, pointing at the ruined backyard before us.
"When Evan Zhao was a child, I often brought him here to help the workers. Back then, he was obedient. But later, I neglected him, always busy with family business and away from home. I left his care to others, and perhaps that’s when he picked up bad habits."
I sighed helplessly.
"Your son Evan Zhao isn’t stupid, Old Man Rivers. He’s smart, but your way of teaching him was wrong. If you’d listened to him back then, things might have turned out differently."
I thought of my own father. He never forced me to learn anything, especially not the Four Saints techniques. At first, I resisted, but he didn’t push me. Instead, whenever ghosts harassed me, he used those powers to teach them a lesson. Watching him made me want to learn, even though I was slow at first. Gradually, as I gained strength and could handle ghosts myself, I found real satisfaction in it.
"Maybe you’re right, little lady," Old Man Rivers said.
"Old Man Rivers, where exactly are we now?"
Old Man Rivers replied.
"We’re inside Evan Zhao’s Shard of Sorrow. This is his World of Sorrow—a ghost domain where everything is tragic. You can see it as a reflection of Evan Zhao’s true inner self."
Old Man Rivers began to walk slowly, leading me up to the third floor. We entered a ruined room on the left; its door had rotted away and collapsed. Old Man Rivers led me inside.
A bed gnawed by time and old books, and piles of cloth that crumbled to dust at the slightest touch. Everything in the room was ruined. This was Evan Zhao’s bedroom, and compared to the rest of the mansion, everything here was broken—even the floorboards were riddled with holes.
"Old Man Rivers, what should we do?"
Old Man Rivers shook his head.
"I’ve spent years here, hoping to find a way to save Evan Zhao, but I’m powerless. Little lady, I see light in your heart. I think you might be able to help—and you carry a very special power inside you."
I sighed helplessly. Just thinking about John Chou made my teeth itch. He dragged me straight into this ghost domain. I had no idea if Isabelle Frost had come in too. Right now, I was completely trapped.
I thought carefully and asked,
"Old Man Rivers, does Evan Zhao have any quirks or hobbies?"
Old Man Rivers nodded.
"Evan Zhao has been stubborn since he was little. He might seem cheerful, but he’s always been prone to getting stuck in his own thoughts. Little lady, I have to leave now—my consciousness can’t hold on much longer. Unlike you, my heart has been steeped in sorrow for years."
With those words, Old Man Rivers dissolved into a handful of black gauze and vanished. I wanted to ask more, but he was already gone.
"Leaving me with this mess—John Chou, you bastard."
I went downstairs and headed to the backyard, quietly observing everything. After learning about Evan Zhao’s temperament, I realized he probably blamed himself for his father’s death. In truth, it was his fault—he ignored Old Man Rivers, did whatever he pleased, and Old Man Rivers finally snapped and beat him in front of all the guests.
"Evan Zhao, if you’re here, come out so we can talk."
I called out, and suddenly heard children’s laughter. Instantly, everything around me changed. My eyes widened as I saw baskets of fruit lined up on the smooth ground of the backyard, workers busy weighing and sorting them.
Several children ran about the yard. I recognized one—Evan Zhao, about seven or eight years old, wearing a bright smile.
"Tianhe, stop playing and come here. Let your father teach you arithmetic."
The young Old Man Rivers called out. Evan Zhao reluctantly walked over, and Old Man Rivers started teaching him. Evan Zhao’s attention drifted to butterflies fluttering in the yard.
"Evan, focus. Are you listening?"
Old Man Rivers lost his temper, grabbing a small bamboo stick and striking Evan Zhao on the backside a few times. Evan Zhao snapped back to attention. I sighed, watching this scene—a father too harsh, a son too obedient.
Seeing Evan Zhao finally focus on his studies, some workers shook their heads and advised Old Man Rivers to wait until the boy was ten before pushing him so hard. Old Man Rivers insisted that city children already knew much more by that age.
Suddenly, the scene froze. Evan Zhao stood up and walked toward me, his eyes wide with sorrow as he stared at me.
"People are born in sorrow. From the moment we cry at birth to the pain of closing our eyes at death, it’s all suffering."
"Evan Zhao, you’re going too far."
I protested, but the young Evan Zhao flashed a strange smile and vanished.