I regained consciousness once more. Everything around me had settled into calm—there was no movement at all. Even the sleep beneath my feet felt peaceful. Old Moe stood about ten meters away, staring at me in astonishment.
"Ethan, why? Is this your obsession?"
"Ah, Old Moe, no matter what happens, I will never abandon my friends." I spoke each word deliberately. Old Moe gave me an approving look, then burst out laughing and shook his head.
My current sensation was strange, as if squeezed into a cramped space with someone else—half my limbs couldn't move. Even my exterior had changed.
I looked down at the surface of the water and saw my reflection. A breeze swept past, and strands of red-and-black hair drifted down. My long hair, a mix of red and black, reached my waist and floated in the wind.
My left eye was black, my right eye blood-red. A dark circle marked the lower part of my right eye, and a vivid red line extended from there down to my neck, looking just like a bloodstain.
My entire expression had changed dramatically—I could hardly recognize myself. My face was stiff, but beneath that stiffness was a fierce aura, a twisted smirk hovering between laughter and menace.
I could no longer tell whether I was human or something else, but I could feel an extraordinarily powerful force inside me. I didn't think for a moment that I would lose to Old Moe.
John Chou was probably lurking somewhere within my body right now, secretly laughing. The urge to burst out laughing kept surging inside me.
Suddenly, I clutched my stomach and burst into wild laughter. It wasn't my own will—it was John Chou's. That laughter was wild and uncontrollable, finally erupting after being held back for so long.
I glanced sideways at my own actions; the laughter continued. I could clearly feel how delighted John Chou was—his joy kept flooding my mind.
"Enough, John Chou!" I finally couldn't hold back and shouted. Suddenly, my mind buzzed and I lost consciousness. In a pitch-black space, a mass of blood-red light appeared, and I drifted toward it.
But then, within that blood-red light, an image suddenly appeared. My eyes widened—it was John Chou, looking like a scholar. His face was pale, but his expression was frozen, and blood kept dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"Young master..." I saw someone running toward John Chou. The image grew clearer—many people appeared all around, and the voices became distinct. They were mocking him.
"How could the Chou family produce such a disgrace? Serves him right—dead!"
"Yeah, let me kick him a few more times."
"We should skin him alive and break his bones."
John Chou was covered in wounds, his chest soaked in blood that had stained his clothes. His gaze was already growing dim, as if he were on the verge of death.
"Young master, you... you..."
I saw a middle-aged man in his forties, his face twisted in grief and anger, tears streaming down. He looked familiar—just as I was about to recall, a cold voice interrupted.
"Zane Zhuang, bury your young master properly. The rest of you, leave."
I looked over—it was Lord Shenyan. I stared at him in shock. He stood before John Chou, holding a blood-stained sword.
"Don't blame me, John Chou. I never meant to kill you..."
"Lord Shenyan, and all of you, you... I'll kill you all."
Sure enough, the person holding John Chou on the ground was Mr. Brown. His eyes were red with rage, and he tried to stand and fight the people around. Instantly, everyone closed in, pulling out their weapons.
In that moment, I saw John Chou, on the verge of death, smile. His hand gripped Mr. Brown like a vise, shaking his head forcefully.
"Enough, Mr. Brown. At least someone will collect my body. Death really is an unpleasant thing, haha."
"Young master..." Mr. Brown cried out, but John Chou never let go of his hand. Slowly, John Chou closed his eyes.
"Everyone, stop."
It was Lord Shenyan. Seeing the crowd about to attack Mr. Brown, he shouted, and the others backed off.
"Zane Zhuang, as a loyal servant, spend your life watching over your young master's spirit."
I stared in shock at the scene revealed by the red mist. This was John Chou's death. I clenched my fists, watching him lying dead in Mr. Brown's arms, still smiling.
"Stop crying, what's the point?" Suddenly, I saw a pale, blurry John Chou patting Mr. Brown's shoulder.
"Young master..." My face, like Mr. Brown's, showed the same terrified expression.
"So this is what it means to be a ghost, huh? It's... quite something. This feeling is different."
"This..." Mr. Brown stopped crying, dumbfounded. He reached out to touch the pale John Chou, but couldn't.
"Leaving the body like this isn't right. It's summer, Mr. Brown. Gather some firewood and burn it."
I watched in amazement. At this moment, John Chou's face showed no sadness or anger. Instead, he seemed genuinely happy to be a ghost, leaving Mr. Brown startled and confused as he looked from John Chou to his corpse, unable to process it.
"Why are you standing there, Mr. Brown? If my corpse starts to stink, it'll be unbearable. Hurry up."
Blazing flames rose up. Mr. Brown held John Chou's corpse, staring blankly at the ghostly John Chou.
"Young master, you said it—I’m going to burn it now."
"Burn it. We come with nothing, leave with nothing—just a pile of rotten flesh, nothing worth holding onto. The only thing I hate is the feeling of being dead."
Crackling sounds echoed. I saw Mr. Brown kneeling devoutly, reciting what sounded like a ritual text. John Chou, impatient, walked over and kicked Mr. Brown.
"Young master, what are you doing?"
"So annoying! Don’t you know I hate all this? Let’s go. Come back in the morning and collect the ashes. Dawn’s coming—I need to test what it’s like to be a ghost."
This really was John Chou—casual, or rather, willful.
I couldn’t help but laugh, giving a knowing smile. I was sure that in this moment, Mr. Brown and I felt exactly the same.
There was no trace of attachment to his physical body in John Chou’s eyes. He turned away decisively and floated up with ease, as if reborn.
"Young master, wait for me!" Mr. Brown panted as he chased after him.
"What’s next? Revenge?"
"Revenge?" John Chou echoed.
"I’m alive and well—what’s there to avenge?"
"This... this..." Mr. Brown looked John Chou up and down, at a loss for words.
"Now I just live as a ghost. Next, I just want to do things I want to do—like become a Ghost King. How about it? As a human, I couldn’t achieve it because of the living world’s constraints. But as a ghost, why not? Mr. Brown, will you follow me?"
"Young master, even if I have to go through boiling oil or descend to the eighteenth level of hell, I’ll follow you."
"That’s settled then. Enough fussing—let’s go."
I sighed. Just then, the scene before my eyes twisted, turning into a blood-red face—especially the eyes, chilling to the bone. The face, made entirely of crimson, stared straight at me.
"What are you peeking at?"
A roar like something from hell thundered in my ears, terrifying me. I staggered back several steps, unsure what this blood-red thing before me really was.
"Brother, what’s so interesting about this?" John Chou stood behind me, patting my shoulder. Suddenly, I snapped back to myself.
Everything around me was unchanged. Old Moe seemed to be saying something.
"Ethan, your soul is completely under John Chou’s control now. You’re in real danger—don’t act on impulse anymore."
Old Moe spoke, and I shook my head.
"Old Moe, if you really want to deal with John Chou, I’ll defeat you."
As I spoke, with a thought, control over my body seemed to return to me.
"Brother, act according to your own will. I’ll just help out a little."
John Chou’s voice echoed in my mind. I nodded. With a rush, I charged at Old Moe. I felt as if my mind now knew how to use many things.
In a flash, I floated before Old Moe. He looked at me helplessly. Suddenly, his face turned cold, and he raised the Phoenix Blade, slashing at me. At the same time, the water beneath my feet surged up in a sharp stream, rushing toward me.
"Pull back, brother!" With a rush, I transformed into a cloud of red-and-black smoke, dodging Old Moe’s double attack along a ghostly thread. I reappeared above Old Moe’s head.
Suddenly, I felt a stone hurtling down at us from behind. I was about to dodge, but found that blood-red lines on my back shattered the falling stone into pieces.
Those blood-red lines, like a spiderweb but much thicker, floated behind me.