Since then, the shadow began to press against Ann Hao's vulnerabilities. Later, in front of Li Anhao, it started to merge with his body through his fingertips.

Ann Hao felt something entering his body, something he resisted fiercely. Yet, within this mysterious darkness, I found myself powerless to reject it.

In an instant, the shadow completely entered Ann Hao's body. He suddenly opened his eyes, slowly sat up, then lay back down. Two weeks later, he placed the mirror on the table, stared at his reflection, and resolved not to look at the joy and laughter of victory anymore. His demeanor was entirely different. Ann Hao laughed, but it hadn't been long before a baby's head was struck by thunder with a deafening boom, and everything became dreadful. Jin Tianlei fell from the window. Ann Hao didn't dodge the attack. He lay on the ground, staring at the Heavenly Thunder above, unable to speak, lost to time. His expression showed unmistakable anger. His pitch-black eyes were filled with an unearthly mist. Later, his gaze closed with resignation.

When Ann Hao woke up, it was already the next morning. He awoke from a cold place, looked at the gray surroundings, and found himself sleeping on the ground. It was peculiar.

"How could I sleep on the ground like this!"

He examined the place where he had slept. Far away from the bed, there was a shattered mirror by his feet.

In the first moment of disguising his anguish, he stepped out. Across four provinces, none yielded waste. He turned this into a mundane play—or perhaps he simply wished not to fall asleep on the ground.

Standing in front of his aunt's scabbard, he knocked softly on the door. Outside Korea, he heard silence from within. He had to shout toward his aunt: "Auntie, I'm coming in now."

Gently pushing the door to his aunt's room, he saw an empty interior with a few sheets of stationery on the table. It was his own letter. He took a piece of paper, folded it carefully, and tucked it into his pocket.

From my aunt? Recently, I've been feeling well, but I had no choice but to endure my loud stomach.

Touching his abdomen, he glanced at the pot and bowls in the kitchen. He intended to cook porridge for his temple of five organs.

The porridge was done cooking. He brought out the leftover brand-name cakes from yesterday, holding a steaming bowl of porridge in one hand and taking bites. Hunger made the meal exquisite.

As he enjoyed the delicious breakfast, he heard God seemingly push open the hall doors and emerge. Setting down his bowl, he made his way to the hall.

At the entrance to the hall sat a figure clad in black, wearing a black mirror and a crimson mask upon his face.

Ann Hao called out loudly to him: "My aunt is indisposed now. Not today. One single day!"

"I'm not here for divination."

"If you've not come to wed with ritual incense today, then go elsewhere!"

"I'm not suggesting such a thing either."

Ann Hao, seeing the figure grow irritated, shouted outwardly, "Then why have you come? No choice! No signs! No incense! No marriage! What now, are you here for me?"

Slowly, the figure stepped up to him and said to Lin, "I've come for you."

Fear filled Ann Hao's chest. He took a step back instinctively, but could retreat no further.

Before him stood a middle-aged man, taller and more shadowlike. He spoke in low tones, "What do you want? I told you my aunt will return!"

In the middle phase, something seemed to drag him into an era belonging only to the land and stone. The middle-aged man became a looming presence.

The middle-aged man chose not to attack or flee, but kept his arms positioned defensively, shielding his mouth.

Ann Hao's fingers touched the blood on the man's arm, gazed at it throughout the night, then looked back at his own form. Quietly, he remarked, "You have truly angered me. Guess what punishment I have planned for you today."

There was no reason for me to be here. As I resolved to flee, the middle-aged man struck me across the face with his palm, sending me crashing down.

I collapsed to the ground, my face stinging with pain, redness swelling under my touch. I stood up slowly, hope extinguished amidst the looming dread.

Looking at the face beneath his mask—could it truly look like this? I wished to retreat, yet actual movement remained constrained.

I walked carefully before the man, eyes fixated on his feet, relinquishing all resistance.

As the middle-aged man seemed satisfied, he pulled a slender branch from behind a tree. Approaching me, he held the branch, the cause of my recent torment.

With a sharp 'snap,' the wood landed against his spine. I knew it caused him pain.

"Angered? Do you understand his wrath now? Do you intend to stab his broad chest with a blade?"

The middle-aged man then took out a dagger from behind him, tossing it before me, saying, "The blade now lies in your hands. Upon my chest. Would you betray the promise? Come, tear me apart as you wish for vengeance."

Slowly, cautiously, I picked up the dagger before me, meeting the hysterical gaze of the middle-aged man.

His expression changed upon seeing my grip of the knife. His hands released me, his voice shouted in stark wonder, "Each person must choose their fate! The time has come! So why hesitate?"

Before I could charge forward, the man swirled onward, dodging beneath my blade, muttering, "Genuine wrath!"

Afterward, we grappled as the blade grazed his throat. For the moment, he lost all ability to act. Soon, the middle-aged man removed his mask before my face.

Seeing his visage left me dazed. His distorted features lent him an air of terror, deep gloom settling heavily.

Watching my reaction, the middle-aged man grinned, his smile twisted and sickly.

"Now you feel true fear?" His tone mocking. "Is it because of my appearance? Let me tell you the truth—you have returned. And now, I shan't devour you. Precious child, let these hands of mine guide you to your final encounter."

I couldn't help but gaze at the ghastly man before me, despair swelling within. I cried out in anguish, "I'm no victim of destitution! You arrive at dawn to seize me, all the while forcing my will to kill you! I see through your deranged schemes—are you truly so blinded by torment?"

The middle-aged man paid no heed to my despair. From his pocket, he withdrew a five-centimeter wooden flute adorned with strange grooves. Installing its base beneath the surface, he emitted a deafening sound. The flute's piercing harmonies drained vitality, leaving my eardrums writhing in pain.

As he played, the middle-aged man leaned toward me and smirked, his jade flute vibrating softly. He watched me with burning eyes.

Circling endlessly, the hypnotic flute notes preyed upon my thoughts. The man spoke calmly, "Your aunt shall not rescue you any longer! Behold your own future. Follow the guide I've ordained for your dwindling cave. In an hour, no reprieve shall remain. Surrender all attempts at fleeing!"

Roughly five minutes later, I estimated that hundreds of escape plans might have penetrated my brain, yet none could prevent his savage interrogations bound by cryptic action.

At the deepest core, amidst my internal conflict, my mind teetered on veiled intensity.

A sudden sound startled me into closing my eyes. When I opened them again, a figure adorned in ancient warrior garb stood solemnly before me.

His armor spoke of the Song Dynasty—a General whose green, aged face bore parched expressions. His eyes shone stark white, rendering him lifeless in appearance.

From behind him, amid ominous rumbles and taut silence, a command escaped the middle-aged man: "Shall we pay our respects to General Zhang?"

The man's unstable laugh echoed hollowly, "Because General Zhang belongs to me."

From the depths of dread to primal instinct, General Zhang advanced stiffly toward me, his sharp claws clutching fiercely at my shoulders. He scooped me into his hold and bounded atop trees, dashing rapidly toward the abyss.

The middle-aged man pursued relentlessly, his strides matching Zhang's ferocity.

Standing before the cliff's edge, General Zhang came to an abrupt stop, casting me violently toward the ground.

Pain twisted within. The breakfast porridge churned uneasily within my gut, and my body retched in rebellion.

Even as I emptied myself, the labyrinth of voices around me cleared, revealing the middle-aged man's cryptic plotting anew. Zhang remained steady by the precipice.

Step by step, I moved away cautiously, retreating with measured urgency. Yet before my gaze, Zhang stood resolute against all retreat.

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