"You..."
Lady Wraith's face showed a look of shock as she stared blankly at Three-Eyed. A soft whimper escaped her. I saw Zhu Si, who had just been blown apart, now floating nearby in terror, the green glow on his body so dim it was barely visible.
John Chou roared, and instantly Mona Ouyang, Three-Eyes, and the Wraith who intervened were all thrown aside. Only then did I recognize the Wraith who stopped John Chou—it was Suyuan, whom I'd met in the Ghostrealm.
Three-Eyed spoke calmly, and at this moment, the third eye on his forehead was open.
"What now? You're dying—right here, right now."
"All along, my eyes could see the future. It's just that, lately, I haven't looked in a long time."
As Lady Wraith spoke, the moment she saw Three-Eyed look at her, she suddenly drifted far away.
"Heh, it doesn't matter anymore, Mona..."
Three-Eyed stared at Mona Ouyang, then glanced at Lady Wraith.
"It might take a little getting used to. But ordinary people can't see that you're missing an arm."
As Three-Eyed spoke, Lady Wraith suddenly rushed over, her face twisted with defiance.
Suddenly, Three-Eyed began to float upward. Just as Lady Wraith charged, I saw an enormous eye appear in the sky. Instantly, Lady Wraith stopped. The giant eye in the sky radiated an intense green light, and when I looked at Three-Eyed, the eye on his forehead had vanished, leaving only a dark hollow.
I couldn't help but recall what John Chou once told me—the relationship between the strong and the weak is like that between humans and ants.
"Were you deliberately hiding your true strength?"
"Are you John Chou?"
At this moment, Mona Ouyang and Three-Eyes were preparing to set out for the south to investigate the malicious ghost named John Chou.
Although I wanted to keep watching, I couldn't help but feel I needed to follow them and see for myself.
In an instant, John Chou's long hair swept back. He reached out a hand and flew toward us. It was the first time I'd seen him like this—his eyes full of cruelty, completely devoid of emotion.
I finally understood—the birth of Horror Stories was simply a pact between Mona Ouyang and Ouyang Weng. Though I wanted to see what would happen next, I had to follow Mona Ouyang south to find John Chou.
I began to sense that this story was nearing its end. So many scenes were left unfinished, and the world of the story was slowly fading away.
Lady Wraith laughed, then glanced at Mona Ouyang, who was now standing.
"Little girl, perhaps one day we'll meet again. When that time comes, I wonder what you'll have become. I'm looking forward to it."
As she spoke, Lady Wraith slowly floated up, transformed into a ball of green light, and flew north.
Mona Ouyang walked over to Ouyang Weng, who was barely alive and on the verge of death. She crouched beside him, smiling as she looked at him.
"What now? You're dying—right now."
Ouyang Weng slowly raised a hand. Mona Ouyang took it in her left hand, then bit her own right hand, letting blood drip into Ouyang Weng's open mouth.
"Someday, I might trouble your descendants..."
"Heh, it doesn't matter anymore, Dream..."
The scene shifted. It was still night. Ouyang Weng had returned home. The three of them sat in the teahouse. Ouyang Weng had spent many days recovering, and now he often glanced at his semi-transparent left hand.
"It might take some getting used to. But ordinary people can't see that you're missing an arm."
As Mona Ouyang spoke, Ouyang Weng broke into a happy smile.
With a crisp sound, Mona Ouyang tossed a thin book onto the table.
"What's this?"
"Just do as you wish. Write down those happy things—stories of humans and ghosts. Record them here, let them be passed on, even the things from your dreams."
Then Mona Ouyang explained to Ouyang Weng that this was something created in her dream—a blank book, a link between the two of them. As long as Ouyang Weng wrote in it, Mona Ouyang could see it. They agreed to keep recording stories in it, passing them on.
At this moment, Mona Ouyang and Three-Eyes were preparing to set out for the south to investigate the malicious ghost named Yin Choujian.
Although I wanted to keep watching, I felt compelled to follow them and see for myself.
The teahouse reopened, and Ouyang Weng resumed his storytelling. Now, he wrote every story in that book. Each day was joyful. After witnessing all this, I left together with Mona Ouyang and Three-Eyes, who had seen it all too.
I finally understood—the birth of Horror Stories was simply a pact between Mona Ouyang and Ouyang Weng. Though I wanted to see what would happen next, I had to follow Mona Ouyang south to find Yin Choujian.
I began to sense that this story was nearing its end. Many scenes were incomplete, and the world of the story was slowly fading away.
I kept following Mona Ouyang and the others until we arrived in the south, at a deserted, desolate town.
"Is this the place? The malicious ghost?"
Mona Ouyang asked, and Three-Eyes nodded.
"On my way here, I gathered information. That malicious ghost named Yin Choujian came this way a few days ago."
As they spoke, a ball of green light sped toward them.
"Help! Help..."
It was a battered Wraith who could control green spirits. His face was filled with terror as he fell to the ground, raising his hand toward Mona Ouyang and the others.
"Die, scum."
A cold voice echoed. The Wraith's face was twisted in deep fear, his eyes wide. Crimson particles began to drift around him.
"He—"
Before the Wraith could finish speaking, his entire body turned to ash. All I saw were a pair of crimson eyes and drifting long hair—those eyes were icy and merciless, devoid of any emotion.
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I couldn't help but recall what Yin Choujian once told me—the relationship between the strong and the weak is like that between humans and ants.
His whole body was pitch black, his features obscured except for the drifting long hair and those crimson eyes.
"Are you Yin Choujian?"
Mona Ouyang slowly walked over, smiling.
"You too. Scum. Die."
In an instant, Yin Choujian's long hair swept back. He reached out a hand and flew toward us. It was the first time I'd seen him like this—his eyes full of cruelty, completely devoid of emotion.
"Hey now, let's talk things through."
A voice rang out. I saw a ball of green light, then a Wraith in black grabbed Yin Choujian's outstretched hand, stopping him.
"Brother Yin, these two seem special. Let's not be hasty."
"Get lost."
Yin Choujian roared, and instantly Mona Ouyang, Three-Eyes, and the Wraith who intervened were all thrown aside. Only then did I recognize the Wraith who stopped Yin Choujian—it was Suyuan, whom I'd met in the Ghostrealm.
As I was still in shock, Mona Ouyang appeared before Yin Choujian, who was now radiating a red glow.
"I'd love to fight you too, Yin Choujian. My name is... Dream..."
Just as the two were about to clash, everything around us vanished. I stared in shock, overcome with frustration—I had returned from that story. Wang Xinming sat nearby.
"Qingyuan, did you see? This is how Horror Stories was born."
I let out a sound of surprise and replied.
"It was nothing more than a simple pact between a human and a ghost."
Wang Xinming sighed and began to speak.
At first, Ouyang Weng would lend the book Horror Stories to certain people. That night, those people would fall into the stories as if dreaming, experiencing things different from real life—not just fear.
Ouyang Weng only lent Horror Stories to people in dilemmas like his own. Through what they experienced in the stories, many found a way out of their troubles.
But after Ouyang Weng died, without anyone to continue writing, Horror Stories began to develop a consciousness of its own. It started dragging people and ghosts into its tales, never letting them escape.
This was never the intention of Mona Ouyang or Ouyang Weng. By the time Mona Ouyang realized it, Horror Stories had grown very powerful. By then, she had become a Ghost Lord and ordered her subordinate, Duan Wentian, to deal with the book.
However, Duan Wentian didn't do so. At a certain point, members of the Immortality Society discovered Horror Stories' incredible power—it could drag reality into the story and place dreams into the book.
This marked the beginning of the Immortality Society's grand Dreamweaving Project—a dream called Immortality.
They wanted to weave reality and dreams into stories. The final step was to turn the story of immortality into reality, to achieve their goal of eternal life.
"However, this plan for immortality ran into setbacks and ended in complete failure."
"Why?"
"Qingyuan, for a story to exist, it needs characters, a setting, and a plot. Many of the characters came from reality, the setting from dreams, and the plot from the writer. But these three cannot truly coexist."
Suddenly, I seemed to understand something.
"So, they needed my instincts?"
Wang Xinming nodded.
"Yes, Qingyuan. When they tried to turn the story into reality, they encountered serious problems. That's why they needed you as the core of Horror Stories—your instincts. Last time you entered, they succeeded in turning story events into reality."