In Leo Liu's memories, I only saw fragments; as for everything about the Ghost Burial Squad, it was mostly blank. Many memories were vague, and Leo Liu had gotten married a few months before taking on this mission. As for his wife, I never once saw her in his memories.
After sorting through all the clues and various things in my memory, the conclusion I reached was that the only person they talked about was Leo Liu's wife.
Thinking carefully, whenever these five mentioned Leo Liu's wife, they were always very serious, not the least bit frivolous. Cynthia Mu's expression, in particular, was especially grim.
After I told Isabelle Frost these things, she slowly raised a hand and patted my shoulder. Then she turned around, raised her hand, and the Octagon Tower appeared once again. She walked to the door, opened it, and glanced back with a smile.
"Then keep trying, Ethan Zhang."
My eyes widened, my mouth hung open, frustration boiling inside me. Even though I now knew the topic both squads discussed—Leo Liu's wife—I still had no idea where to start. Telling me to keep trying, I had no direction at all.
Desire Ghost couldn't detect where any desire was hidden.
The scenery before me never changed, leaving me lost and caught in a dilemma.
"Ethan, give it a try. Maybe Leo Liu's memory shard can sense where the next shard is hidden."
Black flames ignited on my shoulder, and Zhu Tang poked her head out.
What Zhu Tang suggested was indeed a solution, but now, if Leo Liu's memory shard is exposed to this world, it could disappear at any moment.
At that moment, it suddenly occurred to me that I still had Tong Ghost. Maybe he could help. With a thought, Tong Ghost emerged from my body with a whoosh, and I looked at him.
"What is it, Ethan? Didn't you say today we could finally take a day off?"
"Sorry, but I need your help."
I watched Tong Ghost quietly. I still only half-understood his powers, but what I did know was that he could swallow things, and then his whole body could take on the properties of what he ate. For instance, if he ate a rock, his body could turn to stone. Even powers from other ghosts could be manifested, but it all depended on his own strength.
"Go and swallow the five members of the Ghost Burial Squad, one by one. If any of them have power matching the shard inside me, let me know immediately."
Then I followed Tong Ghost to the village. Right now, the villagers were busy cleaning up after the bandits, and the place was lively—many of them were genuinely happy. I saw the five members of the Ghost Burial Squad heading off to sleep. Tong Ghost and I snuck in. Even though they were just memories now, they still had complete personalities and powers. I didn't want another fight, so I let Desire Ghost out to deepen their desire for sleep.
"Alright, hurry up and eat."
I said, and Tong Ghost glanced at me.
"Actually, I don't have to eat them. Swallowing is a hassle."
As he spoke, Tong Ghost stretched out a hand, turning into a swirl of black mist that wrapped around the members of the Ghost Burial Squad. First was their Team 2 captain, Calvin Wang. After probing for a while, there was no power matching Leo Liu's memory shard.
When we checked David Wu, my hopes fell through. Only Cynthia Mu remained. David Wu was very likely part of the memory shard, since he was in Team 2 and had many connections with Leo Liu.
"I can feel it."
Just as I was about to give up, Tong Ghost called out. I looked over—it was Cynthia Mu. I really hadn't expected it to be her.
I immediately tried to take out Leo Liu's memory shard. Bit by bit, I drew it out from inside me, peeling away its surface, using my instincts and blending in other powers to wrap the barrier. At that moment, tiny, crystalline lights began flowing toward Cynthia Mu.
I quietly reached out, following the stream of light. The instant I touched Cynthia Mu, everything changed. Her body began to turn into light, and then everything around us started twisting. An incredibly strong force surged around me.
My whole body began to twist as well. Everything in the space around me—the fabric of this world—started spinning and warping. Something was wrong. Cynthia Mu's memories seemed to be protected by something. Whenever I touched them, this force tried to devour everything.
I couldn't use any power at all—couldn't control my body. I twisted along with this world, my body starting to break apart and become part of the vortex.
Then I saw flashes of crimson around the vortex, and one after another, Red Spider Lilies bloomed.
"Shore..."
Isabelle Frost's clear voice rang out. Instantly, the vortex stopped spinning. A Red Spider Lily bloomed before me, and Isabelle Frost appeared within it. She reached a hand into the frozen vortex and pulled out something glowing and radiant. Suddenly, a flood of Red Spider Lily petals filled my vision, and my body was gradually dragged out of the vortex.
I stared in astonishment as Isabelle Frost handed me the shard. I grabbed it at once, using my instincts to seal the memory shard with my power.
With a whoosh, Isabelle Frost flew into my body.
"Follow the memory, quickly, Ethan Zhang, or we'll be swallowed up by these memories."
I immediately started entering my instinctive space, and gradually, I lost consciousness.
When I opened my eyes, I was startled to see Cynthia Mu standing right in front of me. She smiled—a smile like ice melting, pure and beautiful, radiating before me. I placed my hand on hers.
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In July, Dragonhill County was sweltering. The sound of cicadas filled every street and alley. Most people stayed indoors or sought shade under trees. Many men simply took off their shirts and wandered the streets bare-chested.
A petite figure in a spotless white dress, wearing a large sunhat and holding a drawing board, dashed along the street. The girl, in sandals and glasses, hurried through the town.
Dragonhill County, population over 80,000, was named after the spiritually significant Mount Dragon. Now a tourist spot, it drew visitors even in the unbearable heat of July.
On the street, many tourists carried umbrellas, lingering in shops selling trinkets. Yet none of this seemed to matter to Cynthia Mu—she was running late.
It was summer break, and she was heading to her art class. It was already past 2 o'clock—the class had started long ago. Cynthia Mu had loved drawing since she was little. Though only thirteen, her work was praised by her art teacher, and she had even won first place in her school's art competition.
Her teacher often said Cynthia Mu would be an outstanding artist. The things she painted—flowers, birds, trees, insects, fish, beasts—all seemed to come alive, and her use of vivid colors was remarkable.
She finally arrived at the art classroom; everyone was already painting. Today’s subject was more complex, since the county needed artworks to display at the temple on Mount Dragon for the upcoming festival.
Even the children's paintings mattered. For days, the art teacher had been teaching everyone to draw dragons, but none had succeeded—except Cynthia Mu, who could independently complete the dragon’s body and made it come alive.
When she arrived, the teacher didn’t scold Cynthia Mu, but came over to personally guide them. On a nearby table sat a clay dragon—white, unpainted—said to be sculpted by the temple builders long ago, with excellent craftsmanship.
Cynthia Mu stared at the dragon, as if she might be drawn into it. The teacher explained lines and how to observe still life, starting from the layers of light and shadow. Cynthia Mu had drawn the dragon’s body before, but hadn’t managed the shadows and structure well, so she had to redraw it.
Cynthia Mu spent the whole day drawing the dragon. By dusk, she finally completed a painting that made her teacher truly proud.
Cynthia Mu’s parents were both salaried workers, living comfortably. They fully supported her passion for art, believing she might become a painter one day.
The temple festival on Mount Dragon was just a day away. After days of hard work, Cynthia Mu finished her dragon painting—so vivid and majestic that even local officials praised it and put it in the most prominent spot: the exhibition board at the temple entrance.
Feeling the thrill of success, Cynthia Mu was very pleased with her painting—proud and happy.
The day of the festival was a grand occasion. The mountain was packed with visitors coming to worship at the temple. Cynthia Mu went up the mountain with her parents, and was delighted to hear tourists praising her painting.
At dusk, after dinner at the temple, Cynthia Mu was about to leave with her parents. But then she discovered her painting had disappeared. Shocked, she ran to the exhibition board, searching carefully for her work among the other paintings.
"Can you see it, little girl?"
Just then, a voice sounded. Cynthia Mu turned and saw an old monk holding her painting—the dragon. She hurried over, but the old monk was gone.
After her painting disappeared, Cynthia Mu was upset for days. Then, one day after school, she saw her lost painting posted at her own front door, faintly shrouded in black mist.