Covered in rashes and bruises, Ray finally reached the ancient tomb marked in the map. It was a beast’s head he had never seen before.

His attention was drawn to its enormous bloody eyes that seemed to follow him as he approached. And jaws… it had rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth that sent a chill down his spine. The rest of its features were covered in thick fur. He wasn’t sure if he could call it fur as it was too lengthy to be considered as one.

Except it was carved on a rock, the beast was exceptionally lifelike.

Calming his breath, he stepped into the beast’s mouth. It was a passageway dug in the mountains. Inside rock was hard and damp. Slippery even. He had to crab along the wall to get a better grip.

A hundred feet in, the light started to fade away. And two hundred feet in, it was pitch black. Ray made sufficient preparations though. He lit up the torch and held it out in front. The passageway seemed to taper as it went.

Slowly and carefully, he fumbled across the passage, into the bowels of the mountains. After what it seemed like an eternity, the narrow passage suddenly widened into a cave.

Ray eagerly swung his torch to see around. At the center of the cave stood an altar. The pillars were engraved with letters — probably of some ancient language — he couldn’t recognize. They look like a spread of clutter of swords in an irregular pattern. The number of swords and their arrangement varied with each letter.

Depicted on the altar was a battle. He couldn’t quite recognize the warriors though. There were beasts and humanoid grotesques. But he didn’t see the humans.

Maybe they were overshadowed by these gigantic things.

None of them was his concern though.

His eyes landed on the scroll and the visard that lay on the center of the altar.

Not them.

His eyes darted to a pool of bubbling golden blood beside the altar.

Not this.

He looked around. But nothing else was there.

He hoped to find a sword or sphere or anything that would’ve been useful. What would he do with a scroll, mask, and a pool of golden blood?

He didn’t even know what they were. Let alone using them to wipe out the outlanders.

Ray grew despondent. Could it be dying with the rest of the Bald Brutes was his only option?

“Oh, Aren’t you an anxious little guy?”

Ray almost jumped out of his skin in fright. The torch slipped from his hands.

When it was about to hit the bottom, it froze in the air. “Now, there’s no need to be baffled so much.”

The torch began to levitate. It wheeled around him dramatically once and finally stopped before him.

The fire flickered and spat fireballs around. Fireballs swirled around and condensed into an old man.

Ray stood transfixed and wild-eyed. “Ghost!” he cried.

The old man’s phantom flickered. In that brief moment, Ray swore that he saw something. Something that was not so human. Something like… like the grotesque depicted on the altar!

“Rude!” the old man snapped. “Little brat, you better watch your mouth. Only dead things will become ghosts. Though only a tiny fragment of my soul survived, I still couldn’t be considered dead.”

A tiny fragment of the soul? And you say you are not a ghost?!

“I said I am not!” the old man shouted.

Ray was perplexed. Can he hear my thoughts?

“You bet!”

Sweat beaded on Ray’s forehead. To read someone’s mind, this must be a powerful old monster from ancient times.

The old man laughed proudly. “Trust me, you’ve no idea.”

Ray went silent.

“So, you seem to come here with a lot of expectations. Tell me. Perhaps, I can help you.”

Despite himself, Ray couldn’t help but think about his hopes to find a solution to his spirit problem and find a weapon.

“Interesting! You have an abnormal spirit?”

Hard lines appeared on Ray’s forehead. The old foggy was really pushing him. But there was nothing he could do.

And he was also tempted. The old foggy must be a powerful cultivator from ancient times. Perhaps he can solve his problem.

So Ray explained about his unresponsive spirits.

“You have dual spirits? And they were awakened at twelve?” The old man’s beady eyes gleamed with a peculiar light.

“Not dual spirits,” amended Ray. “Surely, they are two beasts. But I felt they are not separate entities… like… like…” Ray groped for words.

“Why don’t you just show me your spirits?” suggested the old man.

Ray turned around and pulled down his robe till his spirits could be seen on his back. He nervously looked at the old man.

The old man looked at his spirits intently. Then his phantom flickered again. For a brief moment, the gentle old man turned into a grotesque before turning back to being the gentle one. And the smile on his face somehow seemed eery.

Ray’s heartbeat spiked up. He didn’t know what those freaking grotesques were, be he was sure as hell they were bad news. Who was the old ghost then? A human or a grotesque? He had a nagging feeling about this. Since the old fogy could read his mind, he should’ve read his suspicions too. But he was conveniently ignoring them.

“Brat, I have a speculation, but let me test your body to confirm it.”

Then, without his consent, he jabbed his finger at Ray’s wrist. Blood poured out.

It hurt. Ray swore he felt a claw instead of a nail.

This is bad. The situation was growing dangerous for Ray.

The old man started to laugh hysterically. His phantom started morphing to the grotesque and back to the human self quite erratically. “Finally! Finally! Finally, after countless eons, I have found it. I’m free!” He turned to Ray, his eyes sparkling like a balefire. “Brat, I know a solution to your problem.”

“What is it?” asked Ray with a calmness he never expected.

The old man started to explain, hovering around Ray. “You said a spirit would only be awakened at sixteenth summer. But it was a relative statement. In a place with a high concentration of spiritual energy — chi — spirits can be awakened sooner. In ancient times, children awakened their spirits at their birth. So, you’ve awakened your spirit at twelve simply implies you are born at a fairly high chi concentrated place. It’s not as abnormal as you think.”

I’m born at a high chi concentrated place? Ray couldn’t help but think of what Dada said: You descended like a meteor, Ray.

So it was not Dada’s random ramble to make him feel better?

“As for the spirit, your spirit was a primal spirit. The best grade of all. But it seemed you’ve suffered severe injuries in the past. Your bone marrows have been severed. You should’ve died long ago. But your tenacious spirit was unwilling. Under its persistence, a miracle happened. Your bone marrows have been converted into that of your spirit’s. But the conversion has been minute. It was not enough to generate its own blood. No wonder you are so scrawny.

“And in the process of conversion, your spirit has suffered severe trauma and fell to the bottom grade.” the old man explained calmly.

It took a while for Ray to absorb it all. His spirit had suffered trauma to save him?

All the points mentioned by the old foggy were things he hadn’t heard or read before.

Awakening spirit at their birth... a spirit with its own independent consciousness and intelligent enough to make its own decisions… these concepts were so alien to him that even after being told, he couldn’t quite accept them.

And a primal spirit, what the hell was that?

Nonetheless, he finally had answers to the questions that dogged him for years.

“No need for long faces, kiddo. I can help you out. I have a cultivation technique tailored just for you. Just close your eyes and let your soul be at ease. I will transmit the technique to your soul. Don’t struggle,” said the old man.

Ray looked at the old man deeply. Don’t struggle? He knew what was going to happen then. This old ghost was trying to possess him. “You’re finally making the move, huh?”

The old ghost paused, then he shook his head. “You’re a sharp one. If not for my soul has been dwindling for eons and grew unstable, you wouldn’t have caught on so easily. No matter. You can’t outrun me anyway.”

Ray raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Can’t I?”

There must be a reason for the old ghost to get stuck in this area. As long as he ran away, he was sure to shake off the old ghost.

“You really can’t. As long as you are within my perception, you can’t escape. And this whole ridge of mountains was in my perception. Just stay still and accept fate.”

Ray’s heart sank. He had no problem with dying. His life had been quite pathetic anyway. But he wanted to avenge Dada. “All these years, you must’ve found many people to get a body. Why do you choose me? You know, my condition isn’t good. You can choose better ones with the good psyche.”

The old ghost smiled. “You really don’t know how astounding your qualifications are. True, your primal spirit has been damaged. But it can be healed and restored with ample blood supply. With the bone marrow matching your spirit, your future is limitless. Trust me when I say your qualifications are one of the best even in ancient times. So tell me, who else would I choose than such a body?”

My potential is one of the best even in ancient times?

Ray smiled bitterly. What if he had such potential? He was so weak now that he could only watch the old ghost possess him.

It seemed he couldn’t escape the inevitability. He couldn’t stop it, but he could bargain. “Help me kill off the outlanders on this island on your way out.” He closed his eyes. “Do it.”

He didn’t trust the sly old foggy to keep his word. But he believed Eairan Leopold would look for him when he came to know he was the closest to Dada. Wearing his body, the old foggy and Eiran Leopold were destined to cross paths.

“Worry not, I will fulfill your final request.” The old man paused. “But before that, let’s see the unwelcomed guest out.”

“Hmm?” Ray startled.

The old man swung his sleeve, and Ray heard a whimper in the darkness. He turned on his heel to see a red-robed youngster writhing on the rocky ground.

It’s him. Ray recognized the youngster. He was there with Eiran, sitting across the table, chatting.

He followed me? The snake of raw hatred began to uncoil in Ray. No one else knew he was coming here except Crov. did Crov rat him out?

“He one of those outlanders?” asked the old man.

Glaring at the youngster convulsing on the ground, Ray nodded.

“What an unexpected chance to show my sincerity,” the old man mused.

He clicked his fingers. The youngster sprawled and yelped.

“Greedy brat, you wanted to steal my treasures?” chided the old man.

His phantom started to morph again. But this time, it didn’t flicker. The grotesque had assumed his true form: pointy face, three mouths, skin covered with scales, needle-like nails.

Ray’s skin crawled at the very sight of the grotesque.

The grotesque loomed over the youngster. Looking at the youngster, he cackled. “Your balls must be made of steel, boy. Even the overlords of ancient times wouldn’t dare to touch this custodian’s belongings.”

The grotesque dug his hand into the youngster. Strangely, it went through. And when he retracted his hands, there was a light ball hovering above his palm. A miniature of the red-robed youngster hovering in it.

Turning his goat-like red eyes to Ray, he said, “His soul would be tortured by my purgatory flames for eternity. The same fate will befall on your enemies. So you can rest in peace.”

With that said, he shot towards Ray.