"So tired."
I sat quietly on the ground, staring at my trembling hands. Another week had passed, yet I still couldn't easily release the same amount of Ghost Aura as Isabelle Frost. It's been three days now, stuck at five times the amount.
I repeated the process faster and faster, day after day—releasing Ghost Aura, then being attacked by desire, collapsing to the ground, immediately controlling my desires, standing up, and starting again. The cycle grew quicker, and gradually, I stopped being overwhelmed by desire whenever I released Ghost Aura.
I'm getting more and more used to everything here. Little by little, controlling my desires has become something my subconscious can handle, letting me focus more on controlling my power.
At night, nothing strange has happened anymore, and that girl hasn't appeared again. I try to release Ghost Aura, and after half a day of training, even at night, I can control it—making the Ghost Aura five times Isabelle Frost's. But when I do, desire crushes me to the ground, unable to stand. It's still a struggle, especially at night.
Just after lunch, I lay on the ground, quietly watching the sky. The strange thing about the Forest of Desire is that I can manipulate my own desires. Now, I feel almost free to do so. The sunlight, which used to sting my eyes, now, under my desire to bask in it, becomes gentle—just a glowing cluster in the distance.
Everything here is upside down; I'm starting to understand it. Many things that are common sense in the living world, here, as soon as you have a thought, desire immediately backfires, and the opposite happens—sometimes threatening your life.
Right now, the most urgent thing in my mind is how to release as much Ghost Aura as Isabelle Frost. It's been a month and a half. Every day, I mark tallies beside my little nest and repeat the same routine. It's tedious and dull, but when the amount of Ghost Aura drops a bit, I can't help but smile with joy.
With day after day of practice, I understand Ghost Soul more clearly. What matters to me now is what Isabelle Frost said—I'm a very special ghost, because I was once human, and I have a shadow.
After thinking for a while and resting enough, I crawled up and started practicing again, repeating the same actions over and over. In recent days, I can already see the stone statue over there—it has recovered a lot.
I’ve stopped trying to guess at these strange phenomena. I’ll just wait for that girl to show herself and ask her directly.
Unconsciously, the sun set again. I sat on the ground, panting, staring at my trembling hands. My Ghost Soul was beginning to feel fatigue. I felt almost human, but not quite. When people get tired, they need real rest—a good sleep—and if exhaustion is severe, it can take days to recover.
But I’m different now. No matter how exhausted I am during the day, as soon as I close my eyes and open them again, all the fatigue vanishes, and I feel no discomfort at all.
"Thank your Yin energy for that, Ethan Zhang."
Isabelle Frost suddenly spoke. I turned to her in surprise—she’d read my mind again.
"Yin energy?"
Isabelle Frost nodded and walked off without a word. I was about to ask more, but stopped myself—she’d said she wouldn’t tell me anything until I could release as much Ghost Aura as she could.
After dinner, night fell again. Luckily, I have tea to drink every evening. She’s always reading a thick book called Polishing Mirror Garden. Over these days, she’s gone through most of it—only a little remains. I glanced at it; it seems to be about an ancient tree.
Then, suddenly, I spotted a name—Ghost Painting Book Immortal. I stared at the name in surprise. I’d heard of it before, in the matter with Ouyang Meng. The Ghost Painting Book Immortal had tricked Ouyang Chen, helping him complete the Thousand Ghost Record—1,000 ghost stories.
I blinked, looking at the book, deeply puzzled.
"What is it, Ethan Zhang?"
I immediately asked, pointing to the Polishing Mirror Garden book—the author’s name: Ghost Painting Book Immortal.
"Oh, he’s just a book seller in the ghost world."
I let out an 'ah' and muttered in confusion.
"A book seller?"
I watched Isabelle Frost nod. Then I told her about Ouyang Chen’s situation. She responded coldly, glancing at the author’s name.
"I’m just interested in certain things. A few days ago, I bought this book from him."
As for what she’s interested in, I asked, but Isabelle Frost wouldn’t say. So I didn’t press further. This Ghost Painting Book Immortal is a high-level Blue Wraith. According to Isabelle Frost, he’s existed since before the age of the Ghost Lord.
I was surprised to hear that.
"It’s not that he’s stronger than the Ghost Lord. He never gets involved in anything in the ghost world—just writes stories and sells them in the Ghost Market. He’s personally fascinated by strange ghost tales, so he keeps collecting them everywhere. He basically keeps to himself."
I nodded thoughtfully, but then I realized something didn’t add up.
"Have you ever seen the Thousand Ghost Record?"
I asked, and Isabelle Frost shook her head.
"Never heard of such a book, Ethan Zhang. Go rest—it's almost the finale."
I replied with an 'oh,' then glanced at the Polishing Mirror Garden book again. I really wanted to take a look—wondering what was written inside. But then I thought, it must be ghost stories, since it’s by the Ghost Painting Book Immortal.
"What kind of ghost stories are in there?"
I finally couldn’t hold back my curiosity and asked, but Isabelle Frost just smiled.
"That book would be quite a thrill for you, Ethan Zhang. You should just rest early."
Seeing the hidden meaning in Isabelle Frost’s words, still smiling, I thought about it and decided that controlling my power was most important.
This fivefold gap feels like a massive chasm I simply can't cross. Two months—tonight makes sixty days. Looking at the tallies on the ground, twelve sets, still no breakthrough. And thinking about it, John Chou only needed one day to adapt, but spent fifty-eight years here. The moment he left, he became the Bloodbane Ghost Sovereign, feared throughout the Shadow Realm.
Many powerful figures have fallen to John Chou. I’ve heard of this—Ghost Tomb’s boss, the Immortality Society’s leader Xu Fu, both considered formidable. And countless others, nameless but strong, have been defeated by him.
I don’t want to end up like John Chou. After all, I’ve only existed in this world for a little over twenty years—there’s no comparing myself to him.
All I want now is to lay a solid foundation—as a ghost. Right now, I’m no match for the Red Mask Agent, or even for Blue Wraiths who can use the Shadow Realm.
At the thought of the Shadow Realm, I felt a faint excitement. Could I have my own Shadow Realm one day? The idea made me smile.
"Stop dreaming, Ethan Zhang. You’re a hundred years too early to have your own Shadow Realm!"
Isabelle Frost’s cold voice drifted down from the octagonal tower. I muttered in annoyance.
"Can’t I even dream? Sleep."
The next morning, as usual, after breakfast, I started practicing again—still stuck at fivefold, unmoving like a mountain. No matter how fast I tried, I couldn’t break through this limit.
Frustration welled up inside. I sat down, desperately thinking how I could reach Isabelle Frost’s level. These days, we’ve spoken little. She’s finished Polishing Mirror Garden—I once asked to borrow it, but she wouldn’t lend it.
"Ethan Zhang, hurry up. I told you—I don’t have time to practice with you."
I replied with an 'oh,' got up, and continued practicing. Isabelle Frost watched for a while, then left without a word. I grew impatient.
Two months here, day after day, repeating the same thing. No joy at all—dullness spreads through my body.
After Isabelle Frost left, I sat down again, planning to rest a bit, then try once more—releasing Ghost Aura faster, controlling desire, then releasing Ghost Aura again, even faster.
After a while, I slowly stood up, closed my eyes, raised one hand, and suddenly roared. I opened my eyes—instantly, the process I knew by heart repeated in my mind, faster and faster, like a rocket. My thoughts raced so quickly, my body could barely keep up.
It was like mentally running through every step before driving: pull the handbrake, start the car, press the clutch, hit the gas, turn the wheel, fasten the seatbelt.
Repeating all the steps—releasing Ghost Aura, controlling desire—over and over, I started to sense something strange. Even at this speed, it was still fivefold. I stopped, but I’d vaguely noticed something.
Water popped into my mind. I rushed to the riverbank, mind in a whirl. I really did sense something odd. Staring at the quietly flowing river, I crouched down and scooped up a handful of water. It slipped through my fingers. In that instant, I seemed to understand something, but couldn’t quite put it into words.