In an instant, I snapped awake. With a soft thud, the Reality Notebook slipped from Ken Wang's hand and fell to the ground. I stared at him in shock, completely exhausted, and then fainted.
In front of me stood Victor Duan, clutching his waist and laughing maniacally. Step by step, he approached us.
I stared at him in bewilderment, helpless—utterly powerless. I couldn't touch him. But suddenly, Deathbane Aura surged out from me again. Just moments ago, my fighting spirit had seemed to scatter like dust in the wind, yet now I was clear-headed. I forced myself to stand up once more.
"Oh? You’re standing up again? What, you still want to fight? I don’t mind playing with you a bit longer. Don’t you get it yet? The gap between us is like heaven and earth…"
I chuckled and shook my head.
"Where are my parents? My wife? Where are they?"
Suddenly, Victor Duan’s eyes turned icy as he stared at me.
"So what if you know? Do you really think you can beat me?"
In my hands, the Deathbane Aura Blade materialized again. I gripped it and kept smiling.
"It's true. Right now, I can't even touch you. And even if I could, I'm probably no match for you."
"So I've finally touched you, huh? Heh, I thought about it before. It's a reflection, right? Although I don't know what method you used, my own attacks were completely reflected back onto me. But no matter how strong you are, you can't reflect all my attacks at once, can you?"
Duan Wentian blinked, staring at me in a daze. His white suit now had two long slashes from my swords, but strangely, no blood flowed out.
"Damn, Zhang Qingyuan, you're slick, huh? Heh, but you're still thinking too simply."
Suddenly, I saw it—the spot on Duan Wentian’s chest where I’d cut him flashed with a blinding light. Instantly, two slashes opened up on my own chest, and I was sent flying backward again.
"It’s not just simple reflection, you know. Heh, let me tell you something interesting." Duan Wentian looked innocently at his ruined suit.
"Sigh, it took me so much effort to get a suit I actually like. Zhang Qingyuan, you bastard, you went too far—ruined my clothes."
As Duan Wentian spoke, he suddenly appeared right in front of me. He didn’t flash with green light like the Blue Wraith, but it was as if he’d always been standing there. I stared at him in disbelief.
"Back in the day, I entered the Blood Fiend Ghost Domain of Yin Choujian, you know? Once you step in there, no Blue Wraith has ever come out alive. But I was the first to escape from the Blood Fiend Ghost Domain. I made a name for myself, and many ghosts saw me differently. I even earned the favor of one of the seven Ghost Lords—now called Nightmare Ghost Lord, Ouyang Meng."
I stared blankly at Duan Wentian as he casually sat down right in front of me.
"Back then, I was just an average Blue Wraith. Compared to those powerful ones and their bosses—the seven Ghost Lords—I was like a bug on the ground. Heh, but it’s a shame, my old boss, Mr. Ouyang, isn’t what he used to be. I really miss those days. Sigh, alright, story’s over. Time’s almost up, right? That guy should have dealt with Wang Xinming by now."
As Duan Wentian spoke, he stood up. Suddenly, I realized he’d vanished. I felt a hand gripping my neck, lifting me off the ground—it was Duan Wentian, right behind me.
"Tell me—where are my parents and my wife?"
"They’re already dead. Stop searching. Once someone is completely forgotten by everyone, it’s impossible for them to survive."
Suddenly, I burst out laughing, genuinely happy.
"Oh? What’s so funny, Zhang Qingyuan? Your wife and parents are dead, you know."
I stopped laughing and said:
"You said it yourself—if someone is completely forgotten, they die. That means they’ll exist forever in the story."
"That’s right. Your brain’s working for once—got it this time, huh?"
"They’re still alive... still alive..."
In an instant, I was overwhelmed with joy and tears. Even though I’d forgotten my parents and Lan Ruoxi for a while, someone hadn’t forgotten them—my father’s old friend, the Taoist priest Zhang Wuju, had never forgotten my parents. And as for Lan Ruoxi’s parents, I knew very well—her mother, Lan Chuhan, once said that no parent could ever forget their own child.
Uncle Mo was the same—even trapped in a dream, he would never forget Lan Ruoxi.
"They’re all still alive!"
I shouted. Suddenly, Wang Jianhui crawled up from the side, gripping a red and a blue ballpoint pen in his hands.
"Qingyuan, finish him off. He can’t move for now and won’t cause any more trouble."
Suddenly, I broke free from Duan Wentian’s grip. As soon as I landed, my twin swords were in my hands. I spun around and shouted, a voice echoing in my mind.
"That’s more like it, Zhang Qingyuan. The heart is a sword—in any predicament, don’t bend. Tell me, what is your heart?"
"It’s a sword!" I roared. My twin blades pierced Duan Wentian’s chest, and as I pulled them out, I saw Wang Jianhui bleeding from his seven orifices, but still writing furiously, refusing to give up.
I swung my twin swords, hacking at Duan Wentian again and again. He was covered in wounds from my attacks, only able to stare wide-eyed and endure the onslaught like a torrential rain.
"You bastards—how dare you set me up!"
With two swift strikes, I chopped off Duan Wentian’s hands. Then I leaped high, crossing my swords and slashing down. As I landed, I shouted, released one sword, and poured all my baleful energy into the sword I still held.
"Qingyuan, finish him..."
I roared, driving my sword into Duan Wentian’s head. With a crackling sound, pain twisted across his face.
"You..."
As expected, it still had no effect. Wang Jianhui’s body slowly collapsed toward the ground.
"Courting death, Zhang Qingyuan, Wang Jianhui..." As Duan Wentian spoke, I saw green light flare from his body, and the words Wang Jianhui had written to suppress Duan Wentian’s power stopped working.
"It’s not over yet." I raised both hands, letting baleful energy surge from the ground, stabbing toward Duan Wentian from all directions and turning him into a pincushion.
I clenched my right fist, channeling baleful energy, and punched Duan Wentian’s body—already riddled with holes. With a bang, his body shattered, flying apart in pieces.
I smiled, looking at Wang Jianhui, who was lying unconscious on the ground.
"Sorry, Jianhui. Looks like this time, we’re in real trouble..."
With a bang, I felt a blow to my abdomen—Duan Wentian, completely unharmed, appeared before me and punched me in the stomach. My consciousness began to fade.
"Qingyuan—!" A sharp female voice called out. As I lost consciousness, I saw my parents trapped in a mirror in the sky, already unconscious, and Lan Ruoxi crying and screaming.
I found myself in that place again. The surroundings were bright—an endless white world. The ground beneath my feet was like the surface of a lake; with each step, ripples spread out.
"You’ve entered, Zhang Qingyuan."
"Lend me that power from last time."
I said bluntly.
"Hahaha, I can lend it to you, sure—but the rent is steep!"
A pale, humanoid figure appeared. Aside from its vaguely human shape, it had a pair of golden eyes.
With a gurgling sound, blood-red and black mixed together, bubbling up from the lake-like mirror beneath my feet.
"Oh, looks like we have a guest."
"Brother, don’t listen to him."
As bubbles rose from below, a blood-red patch gurgled, and Yin Choujian emerged from it.
I stared in surprise at Yin Choujian as he walked over with a half-smile and patted my shoulder.
"Brother, let me help you out a bit. Haven’t had a sparring partner in ages. But I’ll need some time—just stall that guy outside for half an hour. He’s not too bright."
I smiled knowingly. Suddenly, Yin Choujian turned to the white figure beside him and snarled fiercely.
"Get lost. Don’t touch my stuff."
Gradually, in that blindingly white world, I lost consciousness.
"Heh, Zhang Qingyuan, you might need it soon. When the time comes, I’ll make an exception and let you use it once. Power..."