Chapter 51: The Secret Within

“What do you want, stopping me here?” Zhang Xiaofan asked.

“At first, I intended to kill you. But seeing you changed my mind; though you drew those evil spirits here, you’re innocent. Go see your grandfather,” the ghostly woman replied, gazing forlornly at her father and slipping into contemplation.

Zhang Xiaofan said nothing more, jogging toward his familiar village. What met his eyes was desolation—every house stood in ruin.

Only then did he understand why a new settlement had been built beside the old one: everyone in the old village had died.

“Why don’t I remember any of this?”

Muttering to himself, Zhang Xiaofan walked the streets. Neighbors went about their business coldly, as if blind to his presence.

He knew it was because he could see spirits; the living could not see him.

“Why haven’t they entered the cycle of reincarnation? People should pass on after death, shouldn’t they?”

He finally reached his home, opened the door, and found his grandfather seated inside. His own photograph hung on the wall—he had died long ago.

With a sob, Zhang Xiaofan knelt and cried, “Grandfather, are you truly gone?”

“Ah…” His grandfather sighed. “I never thought you’d embark on the path of cultivation. Now you ought to know—ghosts have their own way of living, so don’t worry about me. Remember, this is your last visit here.”

“Grandfather, why didn’t you tell me sooner? What happened to me?”

“It’s complicated. That day you were struck by something from the sky and started raving nonsense. We called a priest, and that night your eyes changed—you began to see ghosts. Then the spirits attacked our village. That night we all died. Afterwards, a vortex formed in your eyes and drew in all the ghosts. In the end, you also…”

He lifted another photo frame from the table. “At the time, we didn’t realize we were dead, and you had stopped breathing.”

Inside the frame was Zhang Xiaofan’s funeral portrait.

“I died too? But why…” Zhang Xiaofan was so shocked he could barely speak.

“You crawled out from your coffin—I saw it with my own eyes. Later, we realized you weren’t dead, but we were. I never meant to tell you any of this; I just wanted you to live happily. But now that you’ve gotten yourself involved with dark things, I have no reason to keep it from you.”

His grandfather shook his head and beckoned Zhang Xiaofan inside, then pointed to a wooden sword lying in the corner. “The priest left this behind that day. Take it; it’ll help you protect yourself.”

Afterwards, his grandfather urged him to rest and leave the village early the next morning.

On the following day, Zhang Xiaofan departed with the wooden sword. Passing by the small cabin from the previous night, he saw the truck was gone; evidently, the ghost woman’s father had awoken.

He boarded a bus and left.

By evening, he finally returned to the city where his school was located. It was late. Gazing at the lake, he took out the mirror. “You troublesome object, today I’ll let you sleep forever.”

Perhaps sensing danger, the mirror trembled. Suddenly, a voice drifted out, “Do you wish to know your past and present lives? Come, take a look.”

“Xiaofan, the mirror is speaking again?” Liu Yu exclaimed.

Zhang Xiaofan narrowed his gaze, then shook his head. “Pretending to be mystical—it must be trying to confuse me again.”

Just as he was about to throw it away, a sudden memory flashed across his mind. The mirror’s voice echoed, “Look at me…”

He pulled off the black cloth. In the mirror, a figure identical to himself was battling a horde of zombies.

“My god, is that me?”

The mirror replied, “This comes from your own memories. I can excavate memories buried deep in one’s heart.”

“Xiaofan, maybe this mirror can reveal your secrets,” Liu Yu suggested.

Zhang Xiaofan nodded and asked, “What exactly are you?”

The mirror fell silent. Abruptly, the scene shifted—he saw a resplendent palace, its buildings carved from beautiful jade, adorned with engravings of myriad creatures, many unfamiliar to him.

Again the vision changed. Countless beautiful women, like celestial fairies, drifted in from afar, weaving through the palace, laughing and playing as if in a paradise.

Zhang Xiaofan was transfixed; never had he seen such enchanting wonders, not even in the finest films, especially those women—each more beautiful than anyone in the world.

Yet suddenly, the splendid palace was struck by a powerful force. At the same time, the sky was filled with streams of light, which transformed into human figures. They stormed the palace, fighting fiercely with the fairies. Blood soaked the earth, the ground was torn apart, and the palace crumbled.

In the sky, countless runes flashed—symbols much like the talismans Zhang Xiaofan had once bought, but far stronger, unleashing immense power in an instant.

Witnessing this, Zhang Xiaofan was stunned beyond belief. These were masters of unimaginable might—gods.

Then the vision shifted again, revealing a sea of fire. A woman of ethereal bearing stood proudly before countless enemies. Seeing her face, Zhang Xiaofan gasped—it was familiar.

It was the woman’s face behind the mirror.

She held the ancient mirror, speaking at length to her adversaries, though Zhang Xiaofan could not understand her words. In the end, she transformed into a stream of light and vanished into the ancient mirror.

The space was instantly torn apart. The sky darkened, and a fierce vortex formed above, sweeping the land.

Within the raging vortex, countless figures turned to dust, their souls fleeing in terror. Yet the vortex’s power overcame them, drawing each soul into the whirlpool created by the ancient mirror.

Zhang Xiaofan felt as though he stood at the vortex’s center, watching helplessly as the souls of countless divine beings were absorbed, while he himself remained untouched. The feeling was indescribable.

“Power—this is absolute power.” Cold sweat drenched his back. Suddenly, he realized he was in a black space—it seemed...inside the mirror.

At this thought, his heart sank. Had he fallen into a trap?

“Your eyes are very special,” a voice echoed in the darkness.

Forcing himself to remain calm, Zhang Xiaofan covered his eyes and said coldly, “If you don’t want to suffer as you did last time, I advise you to let me go. Otherwise, my eyes are not to be trifled with.”

“As I understand, you can’t freely use your...ghost eyes, can you?” the woman replied.

Zhang Xiaofan was shaken—he hadn’t expected that she knew him so thoroughly.