“An akasha ghost!” Lu Yun’s eyes twitched when he saw the face that was both laughing and crying.

Akasha ghosts were an enormous shadow that constantly shrouded him. From the very first layout of death that he’d encountered, to this face—they were everywhere.

Now that he saw it again, he seemed to see a child behind that eerie face. Am I seeing things?

Unbidden, a brush appeared in his hand, one that still dripped of fresh blood. Qing Han had once used this brush to turn her corpse into an akasha ghost. Plainly, this brush contained the core essence of these ghosts.

Qing Han didn’t know where she’d obtained it either. It’d already been in...