Four months. I lay helplessly on the ground, staring at the sky. 120 days had passed—this stage was already more than triple the time of the previous one. Isabelle Frost grew increasingly impatient with me every day.
And now, all I can manage is to release Ghost Aura from seven Ghost Gates. But I still can't make the Ghost Aura connect. I probably need to release it faster—through all thirteen Ghost Gates. There are six left to go.
As the Ghost Aura disperses, flowing out from the Ghost Gates, each additional gate multiplies the chance of failure. What I used to do with my eyes closed—letting Ghost Aura flow from the gates—now, if I lose control at any step, every extra gate makes it harder. The difficulty of evenly distributing Ghost Aura means failure comes in an instant.
From the eighth Ghost Gate onward, I've been practicing for a week now, and I keep failing—over and over again.
At night, I practice too. I've gotten used to it. Desire creeps in at night, and usually, I only rest a little before dawn, a little at noon, and a little in the afternoon. My whole day is spent repeating this cycle.
Many times, I felt so bored I wanted to quit. But as I get closer to flying, a surge of determination fills me. These days, my fighting spirit burns stronger than ever.
After lunch, I lay down to rest, planning to nap before more practice. At that moment, I saw Isabelle Frost, resentful, sprawled on the second floor. The sound of her guzheng had vanished these days, and her impatience was growing.
"Ethan Zhang, hurry up. It's been half a year already."
"Ah, Miss Frost, look—these are the tally marks I write every day. Not more, not less: exactly 120 days. Not half a year yet."
Isabelle Frost replied weakly.
"Just hurry up. I really can't take it anymore—damn that Yin Choujian."
Finally, Isabelle Frost couldn't hold back and cursed. I laughed and closed my eyes.
I only rest three to six hours a day; all other time is spent repeating the entire process. I never complain. Instead, Isabelle Frost has become more talkative, her cold demeanor replaced by daily irritation whenever she sees me.
One hundred fifty days—almost half a year. I still haven't passed the tenth Ghost Gate; three left to go. I have no idea how much longer it'll take. These days, Isabelle Frost has been binge eating, as if deeply troubled.
At noon, she goes over to the statues, venting her anger by destroying them in every way imaginable. I watched a few days ago—it was brutal. She shattered those innocent stone figures in different ways. I don't watch anymore.
Thunderous crashes and surges of powerful Ghost Aura come from her side from time to time, but I focus only on trying to float.
"Hurry up, Ethan Zhang!"
Isabelle Frost slumped over the table. Another month had passed—180 days now. She'd stopped smashing the statues, but sometimes, as she walked, she'd kick or slap a tree and break it.
Watching from the side, I felt a chill. Lately, her anger toward me has been rising, while I still have two Ghost Gates left and am struggling to train.
That night, I sipped tea as Isabelle Frost lay on the table before me, staring blankly. She rolled over once, then again, and again.
"So you're bored enough to roll around on the table now? Miss Frost, I told you—you could tell me stories. That way you wouldn't be bored."
"Get lost."
With a whoosh, Isabelle Frost floated into the air, sometimes lying down, sometimes spinning, sometimes reclining, sometimes upside down—restless and agitated.
I drank more tea, said thank you, and hurried downstairs to practice. It was late at night, and after going out, I decided to rest a bit longer. I couldn’t stand Isabelle Frost’s look—like she wanted to eat me alive.
With a thunderous boom, I smiled. Behind me, the world was bathed in green light; the woods behind the octagonal building were reduced to ashes. I didn't bother looking anymore—this happened every few days.
"Waaah, Ethan Zhang, can you ask that woman to go home? I’m suffering so much. She keeps causing trouble in my house. I’m sorry, okay? Can you talk to her and make her leave?"
That delicate girl’s voice actually started to cry. She’d told me several times before—ever since Isabelle Frost began smashing the statues. I smiled awkwardly, rubbing my cheek. It was all because of me, but until I mastered my power and reached the next stage, I couldn’t ask Isabelle Frost to leave.
"Alright, I’ll talk to her. But I’m about to reach the next stage. Don’t worry—I’m going to practice now."
"Really? You promise?"
Today marks 230 days. I’ve finally, truly mastered releasing Ghost Aura from twelve Ghost Gates. Just one left. Isabelle Frost sat with her eyes downcast, no longer elegant—she just plopped down far away, glaring at me.
"Ah..."
Isabelle Frost sat nearby, mouth open, making low, drawn-out noises like someone sleep-deprived. After a while, her voice became truly torturous. I glared at her in annoyance.
"Stop with the moaning, okay? I only have one left. It'll be quick."
"Quick? How quick, Ethan Zhang? Last time, at 190 days, you had two Ghost Gates left. You said 210 days at most. Now it's 230 days."
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"Alright, Miss Frost, go smash some statues or kick a few trees. You'll feel better soon."
With a sudden movement, Isabelle Frost stood up and strode toward me, glaring fiercely.
"I've taught plenty of people, Ethan Zhang. The dumbest ones mastered this in a hundred days. You've been at it for 230 days and you're still stuck in the second stage. How stupid are you? I can't take this anymore—I'm going insane!"
Isabelle Frost desperately scratched her head. Soon, her bun was a mess. I laughed, then quickly stopped and looked at her seriously.
"Sorry, Miss Frost. I really am slower than others, so I have to put in more time and effort. I know it's hard on you."
I bowed my head. Isabelle Frost smiled, then turned away, a faint smile at the corner of her lips.
"Keep trying. Sigh."
Time kept slipping by. Reaching the last Ghost Gate, the pain was far beyond what I imagined. It's now been 315 days, and I still can't evenly release Ghost Aura from all thirteen Ghost Gates.
It was afternoon. I sat on the ground, gasping for breath. After that last time, Isabelle Frost stopped saying anything and spent every night quietly playing her guzheng, rarely speaking to me. I noticed she had more books now—she must have gone out to buy them.
This time, the books weren't all about ghostly paintings or immortals—there were modern romance novels and horror stories too. At first I was surprised, but eventually, I stopped paying attention.
For days, I came close to success, but at the last moment, I always failed. I couldn't take flight.
"Ethan Zhang, take a day or two off."
At that moment, Isabelle Frost's voice drifted down from the second floor. I looked at her gratefully and nodded. I really did need to settle down and rest.
The next day, I slept until noon before getting up to eat. My subconscious could now fully control desire. In this Forest of Desire, I was finally free.
After eating, I went to find Yang Xiaowen. I hadn't seen her in over a hundred days. She was the same as ever. I waited quietly until she smiled, then she kept repeating the word 'sister.'
For a whole day, I wandered around in a good mood. The next day, I kept resting—my spirits were much lighter.
On the third morning, after breakfast, I went to the clearing and quietly closed my eyes. Isabelle Frost stood beside me, watching.
"Begin, Ethan Zhang."
Suddenly, I opened my eyes and nodded. These three hundred-plus days had greatly strengthened my ghost soul and control. I focused, slowly releasing ghost threads. Gradually, the faint Ghost Aura split into thirteen streams, each flowing out of a different Ghost Gate.
The speed was extreme, but I failed. Releasing Ghost Aura so quickly caused today's attempt to end in failure again.
"Keep going."
Isabelle Frost urged me from the side.
I nodded and started again, but the problem was still with the thirteenth Ghost Gate.
I took a deep breath. Compared to before, now I only struggled at the final moment, splitting the Ghost Aura. My timing was off, but I could do it now.
"This time..."
I smiled at Isabelle Frost. She nodded.
"I'll succeed this time, Miss Frost."
I closed my eyes. Everything from the past three hundred days replayed in my mind—the entire process. Gradually, I split the Ghost Aura into thirteen streams. In an instant, with a whoosh, Ghost Aura burst out from my six ghost threads, and my body floated up, slowly rising into the air.
"I did it."
I opened my eyes. On the ground, Isabelle Frost smiled with joy.