The night deepened, the stars flickering coldly against the dark sky.

  The boundless Tianxu felt even more unsettling under the crimson haze. Due to the influence of the red mist, even the moon overhead had taken on a blood-red hue.

  The surroundings grew eerily silent, shrouded in an oppressive gloom, as though they had stepped into a ghostly realm. Occasionally, the distant howls of unknown creatures echoed through the mist, sending chills down their spines.

  Halfway along their journey, faint, indistinct voices began to murmur in their ears. At first, the words were unclear, but as they continued walking, the chilling whispers became discernible:

  "Under the red moon, wanderers of the night."

  "Through the sea of blood, we guide you home."

  "Drink the waters of the Yellow Springs, walk the path of the underworld. Do not look back. Do not stop."

  "The wind at your ear, the presence on your back, the hand in yours—do not see, do not ask."

  "Heh... heh... heh..."

  The voice carried a strange melody, neither spoken nor sung, yet filled with an eerie rhythm. It was as if someone hidden in the darkness was chanting a farewell song just for them.

  Ahead, the red mist suddenly billowed, swirling like restless spirits. In the distance, tiny green flames flickered to life, stretching forward in a ghastly procession, forming a path as though leading them not home—but into the depths of the underworld.

  No one spoke. The sinister atmosphere had heightened their alertness to the extreme.

  Until Shen Long finally broke the silence.

  "Who's singing?"

  Han almost blurted out, "Warms the heart..." but caught himself just in time.

  Some habits really needed fixing.

  A sudden warmth spread through his left hand. Someone was holding it.

  Han turned slightly. The one walking to his left was Yun Yun.

  Bai Ruoyue was leading at the front, while Han and Yun Yun were covering the rear.

  Han lowered his voice.

  "Yun Yun, why are you holding my hand?"

  Bai Ruoyue's ears twitched at the back-and-forth, catching every word.

  Yun Yun frowned. "I’m not holding your hand."

  Both of them stiffened. Slowly, their gazes dropped to Han’s left hand.

  A pale, slender hand—so thin that the veins were clearly visible—was gripping his. The nails were painted a bright, blood-red hue.

  And it was coming from behind him.

  Their eyes trailed upward, and horror struck.

  There was nothing attached to that hand.

  Just a severed limb.

  Han’s instincts kicked in. With a surge of raw energy, he wrenched the hand off and flung it to the ground. It vanished the instant it touched the earth.

  The sudden commotion drew everyone’s attention. After Han quickly explained what had happened, a suffocating silence fell over the group.

  "Stay close," Bai Ruoyue instructed grimly. "No one wanders off."

  Tianxu was growing increasingly eerie.

  The next moment, Han felt a warm breath against his left ear—like someone whispering, exhaling softly against his skin.

  Even an idiot would know it wasn’t Yun Yun.

  Without hesitation, Han swung a heavy fist backward. His punch hit nothing but air, and the strange sensation disappeared instantly.

  The others turned toward him again. Han gritted his teeth, brushing it off with a short explanation. But deep down, frustration boiled.

  First the red-furred humanoid, now this?

  It was always him.

  No one else seemed to be experiencing these bizarre encounters. A small mercy, perhaps. But still—why him?

  Did he look particularly appetizing to these damn things?

  Han pressed on with a scowl, but soon enough, another incident struck. His body suddenly felt heavier, weighed down by something clinging to his back.

  A thick curtain of white hair draped over his shoulder, cascading down like a deathly veil.

  Enough already.

  Han’s patience snapped. He raised a hand and smacked whatever it was off him with a sharp slap. The pressure on his back disappeared immediately.

  A while later, in the corner of his eye, he caught another glimpse of the red-furred entity—the same one from before.

  It was still there.

  Still watching him.

  And still waving.

  Han turned to Yun Yun beside him. "Do you see that?"

  She glanced in the same direction and frowned. "See what?"

  Han clenched his jaw.

  So, it really was targeting him specifically.

  While everyone else walked in relative peace, he was being haunted at every step.

  Han was going numb from the sheer absurdity of it.

  What exactly do you people want from me?

  Tell me, and I’ll change! Whatever it is, I swear I’ll change!

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Just then, Yun Duo, who was walking ahead, suddenly spoke.

  "Han, I forgot to ask earlier—how many trials did you clear in the Ascension Hall?"

  Han was only half-paying attention and answered absentmindedly.

  "A few hundred, I guess."

  Silence.

  Every single person turned to look at him.

  Han’s heart skipped a beat.

  Shit.

  They’re not possessed, are they?

  "A few hundred?" Yun Duo asked again, seeking confirmation.

  "Few—" Han started, but Yun Yun cut him off with a sharp look.

  "Yun Duo," she warned, giving her younger sister a light pat. "Now’s not the time for that."

  "Oh... right."

  The number of trials a cultivator cleared was a direct reflection of their strength. Sharing that information freely could be a grave mistake.

  For Bai Ruoyue and the others, their strength had been on display for years—people already had a rough idea of their capabilities. Discussing their results in the Ascension Hall wasn’t a big deal.

  But Han was different.

  He had been cultivating for far too short a time. And yet, his progress was terrifying. No one outside could accurately gauge his true power—it was shrouded in mystery.

  Yun Yun was subtly reminding Yun Duo not to pry.

  They continued forward in tense silence, making their way toward the edge of Tianxu.

  Eventually, the dark ruins faded behind them, replaced by the shadowed slopes of Heishan.

  Though the journey had been far from peaceful, at least they had made it back unharmed—physically, at least. The psychological toll was another matter.

  In the distance, nestled among the mountain trees, Yun Yuan Nan stood waiting.

  The moment he spotted them, a wave of relief washed over his face.

  Had they not returned by now, he would have feared the worst.

  His daughters, his son—all had ventured into that cursed land. If something had happened to them, he didn’t know how he could bear it.

  "Father! We’re back!" Yun Duo called out cheerfully as she ran up to him.

  "Good, good," Yun Yuan Nan exhaled, nodding repeatedly. He didn’t scold them for the delay, just took a long, searching look at each of them before saying,

  "Let’s go home."

  Han and the others obediently retrieved their black cloths, knowing the drill.

  But just before covering his eyes, Han turned back for one last look at the boundless Tianxu.

  His fingers brushed against the token inside his spatial ring—the Ten Thousand Paths Hall Medallion.

  Something told him this wouldn’t be his last time here.

  The only question was: where would he enter from next time?

  As night deepened, the sky was draped in a veil of stars and moonlight.

  Yet, within the boundless Abyss of Heaven, the darkness took on an eerie presence. Due to the influence of the crimson mist, even the moon overhead was tinted a blood-red hue.

  The surroundings grew increasingly ominous, like a realm of wandering spirits. From time to time, strange howls echoed through the air, sending chills down their spines.

  Halfway through their journey, a muffled, indistinct voice suddenly brushed past their ears, as if someone were whispering in the shadows.

  A moment later, the words became clear:

  "Under the crimson moon, the wanderers tread."

  "Through a sea of blood, we guide you home."

  "Drink from the Yellow Springs, walk the path of the underworld—do not turn back, do not linger."

  "The wind at your ear, the presence on your back, the hand you hold—do not look, do not question."

  "Hehehe..."

  The voice carried a haunting melody, its eerie cadence sending an unnatural chill through their bones. It felt as though something unseen lurked in the darkness, watching them, chanting this song as a farewell.

  Ahead, the crimson mist stirred and swayed, revealing flickering green flames in the distance. Slowly, they aligned into a path—one that seemed less like a route home and more like a road to the underworld.

  A heavy silence settled over the group. The oppressive atmosphere forced everyone into a heightened state of vigilance.

  Then, out of nowhere, Shen Long broke the silence.

  "Who's singing?"

  "It's warm..."

  Han almost answered reflexively but bit his tongue halfway through. Old habits die hard.

  Just then, he felt a hand clasping his left hand. He instinctively glanced to his side—it was Yun Yun standing beside him.

  At the front, Bai Ruoyue was leading the way, while Han and Yun Yun took the rear.

  Han frowned and asked in a hushed voice, "Yun Yun, why are you holding my hand?"

  At the front, Bai Ruoyue’s sharp ears twitched slightly, catching every word.

  Yun Yun looked puzzled. "I'm not holding your hand."

  The moment her words fell, both of them turned their gazes toward Han's left hand.

  A pale, slender hand—its veins faintly visible beneath the skin—was gripping Han’s fingers tightly. Its nails were painted a striking crimson red.

  The hand had come from behind him.

  Their gazes followed its origin, and what they saw made their blood run cold.

  There was no body.

  Just a hand.

  Han’s instincts kicked in. His inner energy surged, and he firmly grasped the ghostly hand before slamming it to the ground.

  In the blink of an eye, it vanished.

  The commotion immediately caught everyone’s attention. As they turned to look, Han quickly explained what had just happened, sending an uneasy shiver down their spines.

  "Stay close," he warned. "Don’t spread out."

  The Abyss of Heaven was becoming more and more unsettling.

  Just as that thought crossed his mind, Han suddenly felt a warm breath tickling his left ear, as if someone were whispering right next to him.

  Even if he was slow-witted, he knew Yun Yun wouldn’t be the type to do such a thing.

  Without hesitation, he lashed out with a punch behind him—only to strike empty air. The sensation vanished instantly.

  The others glanced over again. Han briefly explained, but deep inside, irritation began to build.

  First, it was the red-haired figure. Now, this?

  Why was he the only one being targeted?

  The others had walked through this place unscathed. Which, honestly, was a good thing.

  But why was all this happening to him?

  What was he, some kind of holy monk that attracted ghosts?

  Suppressing his growing frustration, Han pressed forward.

  But it didn’t stop.

  A moment later, he suddenly felt something heavy pressing down on his shoulders. Silvery-white strands of long hair draped over him.

  For a split second, Han's patience snapped.

  "Enough is enough!"

  Without turning around, he swung a hard slap behind him.

  The weight on his shoulders instantly disappeared.

  Minutes later, out of the corner of his eye, Han once again spotted that same red-haired entity from before.

  It stood at a distance, waving at him.

  Han turned to Yun Yun and asked, "Do you see that?"

  She shook her head. "See what?"

  This was deliberate.

  The others walked on in peace, while Han was subjected to these relentless disturbances.

  At this point, he was just numb to it.

  "What exactly do you guys want from me?"

  "Just tell me, and I'll fix it!"

  As they trudged forward, Yun Duo suddenly asked, "Han, I forgot to ask—how many trials did you pass in the Ascension Hall?"

  Han, still distracted, casually replied, "A few hundred, I think."

  …

  A strange silence followed.

  Everyone turned to stare at him with an expression Han couldn’t quite decipher.

  A chill ran down his spine.

  "Are they all possessed?!"

  "A few hundred?" Yun Duo asked, seeking confirmation.

  "Yeah, I—" Han started, but before he could finish, Yun Yun swiftly cut in.

  "Yun Duo!" she lightly smacked her younger sister.

  "Is now really the time to ask about that?"

  "Oh… right."

  The number of trials cleared was a direct indicator of one's strength. In the world of cultivators, keeping one's true power hidden was crucial.

  While Bai Ruoyue and the others had openly discussed their own results earlier, it wasn't actually a big deal. They were seasoned martial artists—many already had a rough understanding of their abilities.

  But Han was different.

  His cultivation time was too short, and his progress was unnaturally fast. No one had an accurate assessment of his true strength. To the outside world, he was an enigma.

  Yun Yun had subtly reminded her sister not to press further.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Han and his group reached the outskirts of the Abyss of Heaven.

  Despite the eerie encounters along the way, they had made it back without any real harm.

  As they neared the Black Mountain, they spotted Yun Yuanan waiting for them in the distance.

  A wave of relief washed over them.

  Yun Yuanan had been growing anxious—his daughters and son had been gone for too long. If anything had happened to them, he wouldn’t have been able to bear it.

  "Father, we’re back!" Yun Duo called out joyfully.

  "Good, good," Yun Yuanan nodded repeatedly.

  He glanced over each of them carefully, as if confirming their safety, before finally saying, "Let’s go home."

  Han and the others, knowing the drill, took out the black cloth once more.

  But before covering his eyes, Han stole one last glance at the Abyss of Heaven.

  His gaze lingered for a moment before shifting to the token inside his spatial ring—the Hall of Ten Thousand Paths insignia.

  Something told him…

  This wouldn’t be his last visit.

  Though where he would enter from next time—now that was uncertain.