Pillar of Yita

And every Adventurer who desired the three items of Dolifen would faithfully reenact this process, defeating Nikopolas here on the square.

But was that all?

He furrowed his brows, but it was already too late to think further. The Dark Giant Dragon had begun to make its move. It lowered its head, its cold gaze landing on Fang Hong at the entrance of the alley.

The Giant Dragon let out a deep roar, its voice no longer resembling that of the human female from before, but rougher and more venomous, more akin to that time at Traveler’s Rest.

It immediately lunged at Fang Hong, but the latter, fearless, took only a step back, raising his head to watch the massive creature charge toward the edge of the square, then collide with a sudden appearance of a light net.

It was a golden grid—

Fang Hong had to tilt his head back to see the full expanse of the net, which, from the point of impact, began to blink into existence, then arched backward, forming a large hemisphere. The upper half of the hemisphere nearly vanished into the dark clouds, then, from afar, dipped down from the other end a few blocks away.

If Fang Hong was not mistaken, this golden net was enveloping several blocks centered around City Hall—although he was still unclear about its exact location—as he had expected.

The Giant Dragon continued to slam against the light net, to no effect other than making the golden grid shine more brilliantly. This scene deepened Fang Hong’s understanding of the Phantom Realm, indeed, there was more than the power of Dragon’s Golden Eyes at play here.

Only the Creator of the Phantom Realm itself could so constrain the strength of a Dark Giant Dragon.

But who could that be?

Was it the collective obsession of tens of thousands of souls that Nikopolas had killed within this city, or someone else, like the rumored lady who did not exist?

Fang Hong considered several possibilities, knowing in his heart that the answer must be closely related to everything that happened here thirty years ago; therefore, it certainly had some connection to the three scenes within this vast chess game.

In other words, the person weaving all this behind the scenes was likely one who had experienced the calamity Dolifen went through thirty years ago. Perhaps, she was one of the ladies in the scenes, and Fang Hong couldn’t help but think of the lady who was escorted from Madam Tengye’s inn.

Could it be her?

After one last glance at Nikopolas, who was now powerlessly raging and bellowing, Fang Hong stepped back a few paces, and for the first time turned to observe his surroundings.

It was a deep alley on the fringe of the square celebration, where people stacked wooden crates and empty barrels for transporting festive supplies, now scattered in disarray due to his earlier collision.

This direction ought to lead to where City Hall was located. He had deliberately fled in this direction and then lured Nikopolas to change course and attack him, pushing himself into this spot.

Now, it seemed, the effect was pretty good.

Not daring to linger, he turned and walked deeper into the alley. As he expected, Nikopolas was indeed unable to enter this area around City Hall. It was a pity that it wasn’t quite as he had imagined; he had hoped that a bolt of lightning would fall from the sky and strike the abhorrent Dark Giant Dragon dead. That would have been interesting.

But the current situation had its intrigue—

It seemed that some Strength was protecting this block, preventing the other from entering. In reality, this might have been a powerful Barrier, but in a Phantom, it represented a certain ”rule.”

Though it took the form of a wall, it was essentially a manifestation of willful rejection.

In other words, the will of the Creator of the Phantom Realm was rejecting Nikopolas in the Phantom Realm from entering this area. Why? Fang Hong had a sneaking suspicion that this might just be the key to the illusion.

As a result, City Hall became the final link in this mission, and his call for others to assemble here was not without reason. Frankly speaking, this block was not safe, or rather—no place in this city could be called safe.

A mist began to gather in the alley, an all too familiar sight for Fang Hong, as shadowy figures began to emerge within, like a reenactment of scenes from days long past.

The city’s former residents, covered in all kinds of scars, with flesh falling off to reveal Skeletons and Ghosts, like the Undead from Hell, were returning to the world once more.

It was the power of corruption.

Fang Hong realized he had found the source of the Tide of the Undead; aside from Grey Oak Square, the city was already suffused with such negative energy and the persistent obsessions of despair, all because of the corruption of the Dragon’s Golden Eyes.

This meant that the existence binding the power of the Dragon’s Golden Eyes could very likely be the collection of the thousands of persistent obsessions from the deceased of Dolifen.

As Fang Hong pondered over this issue, he hurried forward.

The surroundings seemed to brighten because the Phantom Realm changed once again as he ran.

Flames were rising from the buildings, which suddenly burst into a fierce blaze that turned the entire night sky into a dazzling red. Amidst billowing smoke, everything seemed to be reenacting the disaster that had occurred thirty years ago.

The suddenly rising temperature scorched Fang Hong’s lungs, making each breath a spicy sting. And everything around him didn’t seem like a phantom at all—it felt more like time had reversed, reflecting him back to that very moment when the disaster struck Dolifen.

The buildings on either side groaned as they collapsed within the inferno.

Several times, fragments ablaze nearly struck him, creating dangerous close calls. But Fang Hong dared not stop. In comparison to the dangers around him, the Undead gathering together posed a greater threat. Currently, he was as defenseless as could be, and a few Clockwork Fairies could hardly be of any help to him in such circumstances.

Ahead there was a flight of steps leading upward, and he was panting so heavily that he nearly had to crawl to climb it. Looking back, he was several hundred meters away from the square. From this height, he could overlook the entire burning street below. Beneath the sea of fire, countless glowing Undead residents were converging, forming a stream of light, surging mightily in this direction.

This scene made his scalp tingle. Looking up, he realized that Nikopolas had already taken to the skies, constantly circling these blocks. With its wings spread out, it cast a shadow that swept across the land, leaving in its wake a rising torrent of flames.

Was this the scene from thirty years ago?

Fang Hong dared not imagine. He had rested only for a moment, and he saw that the Undead below were drawing closer. Gritting his teeth and disregarding the heaviness in his legs as if they were filled with lead, he continued to ascend.

But before he had gone far, he suddenly heard the clang of something hitting the ground nearby.

Fang Hong reacted quickly, turning to look in that direction, only to see a young girl in a linen dress holding a basin. She seemed startled upon seeing him, and the basin fell to the ground.

And that was the sound it made when it hit the ground.

Fang Hong and the young girl were both startled upon seeing each other.

Fang Hong was surprised to find a resident in this city? The young girl’s attire was that of an ordinary person, not resembling the image of an Adventurer commonly seen in this region.

His first thought was that she must be one of the city’s Ghosts, but upon closer inspection, she seemed quite different from the ghosts outside. At least she had a physical presence, not the semi-transparent form of a spirit. Moreover, she wore a long dress and stood beside a pottery workshop, flustered. The distant firelight illuminated her figure, clearly showing the shadow at her feet.

If there was no physical form, there would be no shadow.

The young girl showed the same surprise when she saw Fang Hong, her mouth slightly open. She had long, flaxen hair that draped over her shoulders and fuzzy pointed ears that seemed to stand on end with fright—a mixed-blood Rota.

The young girl paused for a moment, sensing no hostility from Fang Hong, and relaxed. She glanced nervously at the approaching army of ghosts below, hastily picked up the basin, and said to him with some tension, ”Sir, please come this way!”

”Wait, who are you?” Fang Hong snapped back to reality.

”There’s no time to explain. My name is Hes, the daughter of the workshop owner here. It will be troublesome if those ghosts notice us; let’s hide for now.” The young girl said, opening the door of the pottery workshop.

Then she turned around and waved at Fang Hong.

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