The Invisible Ghost Summoner

That morning, Yán Shèngxīn woke up even though he had only slept for three hours. Tí Lóng had invited him to play cards the night before, and as usual, he couldn't say no. With a heavy head, he opened the wooden window of his dormitory room and looked out at the backyard.

The Great Rice Field Beast Tamer Middle School lived up to its name. The backyard stretched into an endless expanse of rice fields, a mesmerizing view that always captivated him. From the hill where the school stood, the rice fields looked breathtaking—refreshing to the eyes and soothing to the soul.

"This is the kind of peace they talk about in old poems," he thought, resting his chin on the window sill. "But does peace even exist in a world where demons once roamed freely?"

The Great Rice Field Beast Tamer Middle School, or Dà Tián Shòuyì, was the largest and most prestigious institution for Beast Tamers in the Eastern region of the kingdom. The mornings here were cold, but once the sun climbed higher, the temperature would shift to a comfortable warmth—sometimes even scorching during the summer. The climate was perfect for agriculture, especially rice, the staple food of the Eastern region.

The East was vastly different from the Western region, where the colder climate favored wheat. In the West, noodles and buns were the main diet. Yán Shèngxīn had never been there himself, but he had often heard stories from Xuē Rén'jū, his mother's loyal servant.

Xuē Rén'jū had been with his mother since her teenage years when she still lived with the Xuē family in the West. As a child, Yán Shèngxīn would eagerly listen to his uncle's stories before bed or whenever he asked about his parents. Xuē Rén'jū would tell him about the Western region, the Xuē family, and most of all, his mother's rare talent for taming—an extraordinary gift unique to the Xuē bloodline.

"And now, that talent resides in me," Yán Shèngxīn thought, his heart swelling with equal parts pride and sorrow. 

Back to the school itself—it was the oldest Beast Tamer academy in the region, its reputation stretching far and wide. As the name suggested, the curriculum was solely for tamers, but not all first-year students had their own beasts yet. Before enrollment, candidates were tested for their aptitude as tamers. Those who didn't qualify were assessed for other skills, like martial arts or weaponry.

The world had changed dramatically since the great victory over demons 15 years ago. Elder Zhao Qinglán, a legendary Beast Master, had gravely injured the Black Dragon Demon King, Hēi Lóng Tiāndì. That single act elevated the status of Beast Tamers, making it the most coveted profession in the kingdom.

Yán Shèngxīn and Tí Lóng were now second-year students. In their grade, every student would face a new trial: proving their ability to tame a beast.

For wealthy families, this was rarely an issue. They could simply purchase a beast for their children. Others had to venture into the Beast Forest, located not far from the Eastern region, to capture one.

Students from poorer families often relied on teachers to help them tame a beast from the forest. If a beast willingly bonded, it became their companion. If not, the school would capture the injured beast, nurse it back to health, and sell it at the Beast Auction.

"This system is fair enough," Yán Shèngxīn thought bitterly. "Fair for those with money, at least."

He let out a sigh. There were always exceptions—students who failed to tame a beast in the forest with the help of their teacher and whose families couldn't afford the auction prices. They would end up with lower-quality beasts, often purchased by their impoverished families from general markets or unused beast markets. These beasts often lacked the potential for significant growth and had limited abilities, making it almost impossible for their tamers to excel in competitions or missions. As a result, these students were frequently overlooked by prestigious guilds and organizations, perpetuating the cycle of inequality between the wealthy and the underprivileged.

Since elementary school, Yán Shèngxīn had been one of the top three students in his class. He had always been determined to excel, to tame a high-quality beast, and to rise as a renowned Beast Master. His ultimate goal? To uncover the truth behind his family's massacre.

"I can't count on Grandfather," he thought, clenching his fists. "Not when he's turned a blind eye to everything."

His grandfather, Yán Shàorén, the head of the Yán clan, had always favored his uncle's family. No matter how much Yán Shèngxīn achieved, he was overlooked. His uncle, Yán Bózhào, and cousins, Yán Ruòzhēn and Yán Róngxiǎn, were the center of his grandfather's attention.

Ruòzhēn, his cousin and the same age as him, was a prodigy. He had tamed his first beast at just ten years old, during the first phase of awakening. Meanwhile, Yán Shèngxīn's talent had only been recognized last year, slightly before he entered this school.

"Maybe that's why Grandfather doesn't care," he thought bitterly. "To him, I'm nothing but a late bloomer."

But he was grateful for one thing: the event that triggered his awakening. It had happened in the cursed cave of the Beast Forest—a night he would never forget.

"That night…" His breath hitched at the memory. "If I close my eyes, I can still feel the cold air, hear the whispers in the darkness…"

It was a night that would haunt most people. For him, it was the beginning of everything.

That day, six months ago, Yán Shèngxīn was summoned by his grandfather to accompany Yán Ruòzhēn and his three subordinates to hunt wild animals near the edge of the Shòutián Lín (Beast Rice Field Forest). Without showing any objections, Yán Shèngxīn dutifully helped Yán Ruòzhēn prepare for the trip. 

The group set out early, their path shrouded in an ominous, suffocating mist that clung to the forest like a ghostly veil. Usually, by morning, the fog around the forest—nestled on the slopes of the hill behind Dà Tián Shòuyì (Great Rice Field Beast Tamer Middle School)—would have dissipated. But today, the air felt heavier, colder, and unnervingly still. Even the birdsong, a usual companion of dawn, was absent. 

As they ventured closer, the towering trees of the Beast Rice Field Forest loomed like shadowy sentinels, their dark outlines barely visible through the dense fog. The twisted branches above seemed to grasp at the sky, and the oppressive silence was broken only by the crunch of their boots on damp undergrowth. 

"This fog is unnatural," muttered Zhào Jǐngwén, the oldest and most experienced of the subordinates, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"It's true," added Lǐ Wěiqiáng, the younger, muscular subordinate. "My father used to say that when the fog doesn't lift, the high-level Beasts become restless. They don't like intruders." 

Sūn Kǎiyuán, the tall and wiry one, shivered slightly as he scanned the surroundings, his voice low and cautious. "In weather like this, it's said that the forest itself becomes alive. You hear things—whispers, footsteps—and sometimes, they're not human." 

Yán Ruòzhēn dismissed their concerns with a wave of his hand, though his impatience was tinged with unease. "Why should we be afraid? We're well-prepared. If any Beast dares to attack, we'll simply bait it and run. Stop imagining things." He shot a pointed glance at Yán Shèngxīn, smirking. 

Yán Ruòzhēn had always viewed Yán Shèngxīn as a rival—a thorn in his side. Though they both hailed from the prestigious Yán Clan, their standings couldn't be more different. Yán Ruòzhēn was hailed as a prodigy in Dà Tiánchéng (Great Rice Field City), and a beacon of hope for the Héyǔ Guó (Harmony Universe Kingdom). Aided by a series of special potions, he had awakened his abilities at just ten years old, which is considered a rare talent for Beast Summoning. 

Now a level 2 Beast Summoner, the young Yán Ruòzhēn was the pride of the family and the city. However, Yán Shèngxīn's academic achievements at Dà Tián Shòuyì had always surpassed him, leading to deep-seated jealousy. Yán Ruòzhēn, though a summoning prodigy, had consistently underperformed in school, while Yán Shèngxīn—despite being tested and found to possess no detectable skills—excelled in his studies and earned the admiration of their peers. The contrast between them only fueled Yán Ruòzhēn's frustration. 

In the swirling fog, Yán Ruòzhēn's mind churned with a dark plan. If they encountered a high-level Beast, he would use the chaos to sacrifice Yán Shèngxīn. Injuring him and leaving him behind would surely save the rest of them. His father, Yán Bózhào, and mother would likely support the plan—after all, Yán Shèngxīn's brilliance in academics only brought more pressure to their family. A child without talent for Beast Summoning was considered useless in this era, relegated to ordinary martial arts schools or menial labor. 

He glanced over his shoulder at Yán Shèngxīn, who trudged behind in silence, his clothing noticeably more worn than the others'. Suppressing a sneer, Yán Ruòzhēn muttered under his breath, "That orphan looks more like a servant than a member of the Yán family. Grandpa barely gives him new clothes, and even his one servant is an old, sickly man from the Xuē family." 

Zhào Jǐngwén overheard and whispered to Sūn Kǎiyuán, "The young master doesn't hide his disdain. It's cruel...but then again, the forest doesn't care who you are. If anyone falls behind here, they're as good as gone." 

Sūn Kǎiyuán nodded, his sharp eyes darting nervously. "We should tread carefully. In this fog, it's not just Wild Animals or Wild Beasts we should fear...some say the souls of those lost here never leave." 

"Enough talking!" Yán Ruòzhēn barked. "Shèngxīn, move faster! Are you scared? Or just too weak? We don't have all day!" 

Yán Shèngxīn clenched his fists but said nothing, quietly enduring the jibes. 

Determined to prove himself, Yán Ruòzhēn urged the group deeper into the Shòutián Lín, ignoring the growing chill in the air and the eerie silence that seemed to press against their ears. The forest ahead grew darker, the fog swallowing the light, and the shadows danced like phantoms among the trees. Each step felt heavier, as if the ground itself resisted their intrusion. 

The Shòutián Lín was notorious for harboring high-level Beasts that fiercely guarded their territory. Under normal conditions, even a level 3 Beast Master wouldn't dare venture so far. In this unnatural fog, not even a level 5 Master would tempt fate. 

Yet Yán Ruòzhēn was undeterred. He envisioned the glory of presenting rare, high-quality wild animal meats at the clan's year-end feast tomorrow. If he succeeded, his grandfather, Yán Shàorén, would surely heap praise upon him, solidifying his standing in the family. 

The deeper they went, the thicker the fog became, and soon, they could barely see an arm's length ahead. The group's breathing grew labored, their steps hesitant as the oppressive atmosphere weighed down on them. The silence was broken only by the occasional snap of a twig or rustle of unseen movement in the distance—a sound that made even the bravest among them pause. 

Zhào Jǐngwén finally broke the silence, his voice trembling slightly. "Young Master, we should turn back. This part of the forest is alive with danger. It's said the fog hides things that aren't meant to be seen." 

Lǐ Wěiqiáng added, his tone grim, "And when you see them, it's already too late." 

But Yán Ruòzhēn refused to listen, his ambition blinding him to the rising fear in his subordinates' eyes. "We'll press on. Shèngxīn, keep up, or I'll leave you behind!" 

As the group ventured deeper, the Shòutián Lín seemed to close in around them, the fog whispering secrets of its own. 

The deeper part of Shòutián Lín was even thicker with fog, shrouded in an almost oppressive darkness.

This was the core of Shòutián Lín, a place feared even by experienced Summoners of level 3 and above. Stories from those who dared to enter spoke of a labyrinth of intertwined vegetation and a teeming ecosystem of animals and Beasts locked in a deadly cycle of survival.

In this world, animals and Beasts were not the same. Animals were the creatures known to mankind—silent, instinct-driven, bound by their natural forms. Beasts, on the other hand, were ancient beings. Having lived for centuries, they had transcended mortality, evolving into creatures capable of taking on humanoid forms. Yet, even in these forms, their primal nature lingered in their features: a Rhino Beast bore a horn, a Rabbit Beast had long ears, and a Bird Beast retained its sharp beak. When they reverted to their original forms, they became immense, terrifying manifestations of their true nature, utterly alien compared to ordinary animals.

Beasts were apex predators. In the wild, they fed on plants, animals, and even each other. Some had developed a particular taste for human flesh, viewing humans as prey no different from any other.

The deeper Zhào Jǐngwén, Lǐ Wěiqiáng, and Sūn Kǎiyuán led the two young masters of the Yan family, Yán Ruòzhēn and Yán Shèngxīn, the thicker the fog became. The air grew colder and heavier, making every breath a struggle. The glow wood they relied on for light dimmed, its pale luminance now barely cutting through the murk.

"Keep moving!" Yán Ruòzhēn's voice cut through the gloom. "What are you all waiting for?"

The servants exchanged uneasy glances but obeyed. Their young master's insistence on hunting high-quality game today had led them deeper into the forest than ever before, far beyond what any of them considered safe.

Shèngxīn, though accustomed to the forest's edges, had never ventured this far. To avoid becoming lost, he began marking the trees they passed with a foul-smelling liquid made from the sap of the Bùzǔ Wood—a pungent concoction that clung to bark and left a distinctive scent. The acrid odor filled the air, stinging their nostrils.

"What is that stench?" Ruòzhēn grimaced, pinching his nose. "Shèngxīn, have you not bathed for a month?"

"It's the sap," Shèngxīn retorted, keeping his voice steady despite his fear. "It'll help us find our way back if we get turned around."

Ruòzhēn sneered. "For once, you've proven useful. Maybe you'll make a decent forest guide someday—since summoning isn't your talent."

"Keep going!" Ruòzhēn barked suddenly, his voice echoing unnaturally. The sound seemed to ripple through the dense fog, stirring something unseen. In the distance, a cacophony of sounds answered: the howls of wolves, the calls of unseen birds, the chittering of monkeys. But there were other noises too—low, guttural growls and sharp, piercing cries that defied recognition.

Zhào Jǐngwén stiffened. "Young Master, shouting like that could get us all killed."

"I do as I please!" Ruòzhēn snapped, though his bravado was tinged with unease.

Even Shèngxīn, holding Ruòzhēn's equipment, was trembling. He regretted not bringing a weapon. If they were attacked, they would have no defense.

Suddenly, a scream pierced the air—a bloodcurdling cry of agony. It was Sūn Kǎiyuán. The youngest servant's voice rang out, desperate and raw, calling for Zhào Jǐngwén. But just as abruptly as it started, the scream was cut off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

Zhào Jǐngwén's face hardened. "Weapons out. Now," he ordered, his voice low and urgent. He and Lǐ Wěiqiáng gripped their glowing wood tightly, trying to coax more light from its failing glow.

Before they could react, another sound came—a soft, wet gasp. It was Lǐ Wěiqiáng. His silhouette flickered in the dim light, and then he was gone, swallowed by the darkness.

Zhào Jǐngwén gritted his teeth, his knuckles white around the hilt of his blade. "Stay close!" he hissed, positioning himself protectively in front of the two young masters.

Ruòzhēn's earlier arrogance had vanished, replaced by wide-eyed fear. Shèngxīn clung to his markings on the trees, his breaths shallow and rapid. The forest seemed to close in around them, its shadows alive with unseen threats.

And then, just beyond the edge of their flickering light, something moved.

Cursing at Ruòzhēn, Shèngxīn's senses sharpened. He can hear weird sounds nearby. His pulse quickened as he hoisted the equipment bag onto his back and gripped two glowing wooden sticks—his only weapons. The forest seemed to close in around them, the shadows deepening with each step.

Suddenly, Ruòzhēn felt a sharp, stinging slap on the back of his head. He froze, his anger flaring as he turned to glare at Shèngxīn, who stood faintly illuminated by the eerie glow of the wood.

"What is the meaning of this, Shèngxīn?" Ruòzhēn hissed, his voice low but sharp.

Shèngxīn, startled and confused, shot back, "What are you talking about, cousin?"

"Don't act innocent! Why did you slap my head, you idiot?" Ruòzhēn growled, his voice rising despite the oppressive quiet of the forest. The sound echoed unnervingly, stirring a chorus of rustling leaves and distant growls.

"Both young masters, stop quarreling, and lower your voices!" Zhào Jǐngwén snapped, his voice urgent but hushed. "Do you want to attract whatever is out there?"

Zhào Jǐngwén's strained expression was a stark reminder of their precarious situation. These young fools don't understand the danger we're in, he thought bitterly. He tightened his grip on his blade, his eyes darting to every shifting shadow.

The two teenagers exchanged uneasy glances, finally silenced by Zhào Jǐngwén's warning. They adjusted their grips on their glowing sticks, their movements tense and jerky. Shèngxīn's lack of a proper weapon left him feeling exposed, the dim light of his sticks doing little to dispel the overwhelming darkness.

Zhào Jǐngwén took the lead, his movements deliberate and cautious. Ruòzhēn, despite being the master, had no choice but to follow. The forest around them seemed alive, every creak of a branch or rustle of leaves like the whisper of an unseen predator.

Without warning, Shèngxīn felt a powerful kick to his backside. The force sent him stumbling forward, his shoulder slamming into the rough bark of a tree. He barely managed to stay upright, his glowing sticks trembling in his hands.

"Cousin, what's wrong with you? Are you still holding a grudge against me?" Shèngxīn snapped, his voice sharp with pain and frustration. The impact had left his lower back throbbing, and the heavy bag on his shoulders made it worse. His outburst cut through the silence like a knife, and the forest seemed to respond in kind. The sounds of dry branches snapping and leaves crunching grew louder, closer.

"I didn't kick you, idiot!" Ruòzhēn hissed, his eyes narrowing. "Do you see any dirt on my boots? Stop accusing me of nonsense!"

Shèngxīn's anger flared. Ruòzhēn's history of pranks was well-known, and this felt like another one. "If it wasn't you, then who—"

"Quiet!" Zhào Jǐngwén's sharp hiss cut him off. This time, his face was pale, his eyes darting around the darkened forest. The sounds were no longer faint; something was moving closer, its presence undeniable. The snapping of twigs and the crunch of dry leaves were deliberate, heavy.

A tense silence fell over the group. Each of them instinctively adjusted their stances, the glowing sticks casting faint halos of light that seemed to do more to highlight the shadows than dispel them.

Then it happened again. Ruòzhēn, standing in the middle of the group, felt a hard shove against his back. He stumbled but managed to catch his balance, his voice a harsh whisper. "Uncle Zhào, what do you think you're doing? Why would you kick me?"

Zhào Jǐngwén didn't reply. His face was frozen in terror, his trembling hand pointing behind Ruòzhēn. His lips moved wordlessly, as though he was trying to speak but couldn't find the words.

Ruòzhēn's heart raced as he turned to follow Zhào Jǐngwén's gaze. His cousin, Shèngxīn, was also pointing—but not at him. Shèngxīn's shaking hand was directed at the shadowy space just beyond Ruòzhēn's shoulder.

"Behind you," Shèngxīn whispered, his voice barely audible. His face was ashen, his wide eyes reflecting pure terror.

Ruòzhēn's breath caught. The oppressive silence was broken by a low, guttural growl, so close it sent a shiver down his spine. The once-distant sounds of snapping branches and rustling leaves now seemed to surround them, as if the forest itself was alive and closing in.

Then it stepped into the faint glow of their sticks—a towering, shadowy figure with gleaming eyes that pierced the darkness. Its elongated limbs moved unnaturally, and its sharp claws glinted in the dim light.

"Beast!" Zhào Jǐngwén and Shèngxīn screamed in unison, their voices raw with fear.

As soon as Zhao Jingwen and his cousin, Yan Shengxin, shouted the same thing, Yan Ruozhen's body began to tremble uncontrollably. Without warning, he turned and bolted toward the front, his fear overcoming any semblance of composure. In his panic, he crashed directly into Yan Shengxin, who was still frozen in shock and struggling with the weight of their shared hunting gear.

Zhao Jingwen, equally terrified but unwilling to be left behind, hastily followed suit. "Young Master, wait for me!" he yelled, his voice trembling with fear as he darted forward. In his rush, he too collided with Shengxin, who was left reeling from yet another hit. 

Shengxin, having been bumped into twice now, stumbled and fell. One of the glowing sticks he had been holding was flung from his hand into the shadows, leaving him clutching the sole remaining source of light. 

Now alone in the heart of the forest, Shengxin's fear reached new heights. He wasn't just scared—he was petrified. Unlike his companions, he had no exceptional abilities, no weapon, and no skill to defend himself. He was just an ordinary teenager stranded in the wilderness, a perfect target for lurking predators. 

But even in his terror, he tried to muster some courage. His hands trembled as he raised the glowing stick like a makeshift sword, waving it frantically in every direction. His movements, desperate and erratic, betrayed the growing dread that gnawed at him. 

The eerie silence around him was broken by a cold, unnatural breeze that grazed his ears. The chill carried the unmistakable scent of blood, sharp and metallic, making his heart race. He spun around toward the source, only to find nothing there. 

A moment later, he felt his hair being tugged back, as if an invisible hand had grasped it before letting go. He whipped around again, his breaths shallow and rapid. Still, there was nothing. 

This macabre game continued, the unseen assailants toying with him. Shengxin's frustration boiled over. He gripped the stick tightly and shouted into the void, his voice cracking with both anger and fear, "Get out here, beast! Stop playing games and face me! I'm not afraid of you!" 

The forest erupted with the sounds of animals and distant howls, growing louder and more chaotic. Then, amidst the cacophony, two distinct voices, both unnervingly human-like, broke through the din. 

"Big brother, did you hear that? He says he's not afraid!" a mocking, male voice taunted. 

"Yes, he's not afraid of us, apparently," a second voice, female and laced with amusement, added. 

The two voices cackled, their laughter echoing through the dark forest. 

"You two! Where are you? Stop playing around and hurry up! I'm hungry!" 

A third voice thundered from somewhere deeper in the forest. This one was deeper, rougher, and carried an unmistakable authority. The ground seemed to shudder slightly with the weight of the steps that followed. 

The female voice, now more cautious, spoke again. "Little brother, the eldest is getting impatient. If we don't bring him this human soon, you know what'll happen." 

"But Sister, this one looks tender and delicious!" the male voice whined. "The old one we ate yesterday wasn't even tasty—just skin and bones. I bet this one will taste amazing!" 

Their words sent a chill down Shengxin's spine. He clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to collapse from sheer terror. He couldn't afford to lose hope, not now. There were too many unanswered questions about his past, about his father's murder, and the massacre of his family. 

His trembling hand instinctively reached for the necklace around his neck—a gift from Uncle Xuē Rén'jū on his fifteenth birthday. The old man had told him it was his mother's keepsake and that, in dire circumstances, breaking it would summon help. 

Though desperate, Shengxin hesitated. Could it really work? He had no other choice. With trembling fingers, he yanked the necklace from his neck and hurled it to the ground with all his might. 

The necklace shattered. 

For a moment, everything fell silent. 

"Big sister, what did he just do?" the younger beast's voice sounded confused. 

"He broke a necklace... What a foolish human. That was a pretty necklace, too. I could've worn it," the female beast replied, her voice tinged with disappointment. 

Shengxin stared at the shattered pieces, his heart sinking. Nothing happened. The forest remained eerily still, and the fog only seemed to thicken around him. 

"Was that supposed to summon someone?" he muttered bitterly. "If so, it failed." 

The loud, booming voice of the eldest beast broke through his thoughts. "What's taking you so long? Bring me the human!" 

Panic surged through Shengxin. He was running out of time. The beasts were closing in, and the only thing he had left—a supposed lifeline—had failed him. 

But then, as soon as Shengxin closed his eyes, the world around him dissolved into an endless expanse of swirling silver mist. His body felt weightless, suspended in a strange limbo, before he suddenly found himself standing in his Sea of Consciousness."

In this surreal, otherworldly realm, three figures emerged before him:

The first figure was a woman who looked remarkably human. She had a beautiful face, her expression serene yet tinged with a quiet sadness. She was dressed in white robes that flowed down to her heels, though bloodstains marred several parts of her otherwise pristine attire.

The second figure was entirely different—a miniature creature with green skin and a mischievous grin. He had erect ears and a face and body that resembled a little boy, though his constant nose-picking and giggling gave him an unsettling air. He was no taller than an adult's pinky finger and radiated an aura of impish energy.

The third figure towered over the other two. He had a massive, muscular frame covered in thick, reddish-black fur, with a face resembling an ape. His imposing stature was reminiscent of the legendary Sun Wu Kong, though his demeanor was far less playful. This creature stood rigidly, his dark eyes glaring with an intensity that could silence even the boldest souls.

"Hey human, are you the one who called me? While you were napping, just calling for us?" the little goblin-like creature spoke, his voice shockingly loud despite his tiny size.

Before Shengxin could respond, the goblin was suddenly sent tumbling to the side. The elegant woman in white had kicked him with surprising force. "You're being rude to your Master!" she scolded, her voice firm yet melodious.

"Master?" Shengxin blinked in confusion.

"Who are you all? And where am I?" he asked, his voice trembling.

The towering ape-like figure spoke, his words slow and deliberate: "Ghosts. Sea of Consciousness."

The little green creature, unbothered by his earlier scolding, chimed in with a grin. "We're in your Sea of Consciousness, little human. You summoned us, and now you're acting clueless!" He sauntered toward Shengxin with a casual swagger, as if he owned the place.

The woman immediately moved to reprimand him again. "Tú Yòu, you brat! Speak respectfully to the Young Master!"

The giant beast, who had remained silent until now, gave Tú Yòu a stern look. "Be polite," he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder.

Tú Yòu, evidently intimidated by the larger ghost, straightened up and addressed Shengxin with exaggerated formality. "Young Master, I am Tú Yòu, the cute little one who helps collect valuables."

The woman in white stepped forward gracefully. "I am Gǔ Tiān Ān'nà. I wield the power of hallucinations to aid the Master." Her voice was soft, yet there was a palpable weight behind her words.

The towering figure simply said, "Wǎng."

"Gēn Dé Rú Wǎng," Tú Yòu added helpfully. "That's his full name. Big Brother Wǎng is the strongest of us. He's usually tasked with protecting you from powerful enemies—whether humans or Beasts."

Wǎng flexed his massive arms as if to demonstrate his strength. "Wǎng is strong," he said, his deep voice reverberating through the Sea of Consciousness.

"What are you guys, really? What kind of beasts are you?" Shengxin asked, still puzzled.

"Ghosts?" Shengxin repeated, still trying to process the situation. "You don't look like ghosts to me. Aren't ghosts supposed to be invisible? And scary?"

"We are ghosts," Wǎng said again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Legendary ghosts, Young Master," Ān'nà clarified, a faint smile playing on her lips. "We have served the Mao family for centuries."

"The Mao family?" Shengxin's eyes widened. "That's my mother's surname! Did you serve her?"

"Of course! We were bound to your lineage long before you were born," Tú Yòu said with a smirk, before quickly correcting himself. "I mean, yes, Young Master!"

Shengxin was still confused. "So, am I dead?"

Ān'nà giggled, her laughter carrying the scent of plumeria flowers. It was a sound so distinctive that parents would close their windows in fear. "Young Master is still alive," she reassured him. "We're still in the human world, and we're wandering ghosts."

Tú Yòu continued, his voice filled with a mix of pride and bitterness, "We're not just random ghosts. We've witnessed history. Fifteen years ago, during the war between humans and demons, we also participated."

Ān'nà did not protest. It was true. She had become a ghost because of the evil deeds of men who had wronged her.

Meanwhile, outside, in the physical world,

"Hey, human! Why are you silent? Are you daydreaming or fainted? Why are your eyes open if you fainted?" The Little Wolf outside asked, growing impatient as Shengxin seemed lost in thought.

Suddenly, a scream pierced the air, and Shengxin realized he was physically in the Shòutián Lín forest, facing two invisible beasts.

"Wait! I can see their figures from the sea of consciousness!" Shengxin said, focusing his mind.

Among the beasts, the smallest one appeared to be a chubby white wolf, while the second was a three-tailed fox. The largest, referred to as "Big Brother," was an enormous white bear that towered over them at a massive five meters tall.

Seeing Shengxin's frightened expression, Ān'nà quickly explained, "Young Master, drop a drop of blood on each of us. That will complete the taming process for us ghosts."

Shengxin hesitated, scared. "You were tamed? Can ghosts really be tamed?"

Tú Yòu, with a grin, replied while casually picking his nose, "Humans can't tame us, Young Master. We're not easy to deal with."

Ān'nà said nothing, but she noticed Shengxin's body being surrounded by the beasts and quickly acted. "Hurry, Young Master!"

Shengxin, now more determined, bit his finger and approached them, suppressing his fear.

He smeared Tú Yòu's blood first, then Ān'nà's. When it came to Wǎng, Shengxin hesitated, unsure where to smear the blood. Wǎng, wise to the situation, lowered her head for him to complete the process.

As soon as it was done, a bright light filled Shengxin's consciousness, and a cheat screen appeared before him, displaying each ghost's information and power.

"You three, act immediately!" Shengxin ordered urgently, as his body was being carried away. He was saved just in time by the Female Fox Beast, who warned him that his physical body would be crushed into a flat, unappetizing mess.

With Wǎng's immense strength, she knocked the giant bear beast far away, crashing it into trees and killing it instantly.

Meanwhile, Ān'nà used her hallucination powers to scare the small wolf beast, making it believe it was being chastised by a group of elder wolves who disapproved of its behavior.

The three-tailed fox, realizing she was trapped in a stronger hallucination, begged for mercy. "Mercy... mercy... We didn't know we were meant to fight against Mo Shan Mountain! Please don't kill us."

Shengxin, having returned from his sea of consciousness, immediately assessed the situation around him.

The White Wolf remained curled up, trembling in fear, haunted by the imagined reproaches of the elder White Wolf Clan. They berated him for associating too frequently with the Fox and Bear races, a violation of their unspoken laws.

Feeling a pang of pity despite everything, Shengxin turned to Ān'nà. "Wake the Little Wolf," he instructed firmly.

Ān'nà hesitated for a moment, her expression one of reluctant protest. "Young Master, why bother with a Beast that almost made you its meal?" Despite her grumbling, she followed Shengxin's orders.

The Little Wolf stirred awake, his eyes widening as he took in the sight before him. His elder sister, the Three-Tailed Fox, was standing protectively in front of him, facing three unfamiliar figures. These beings were neither human nor Beast, their presence strange and unsettling.

Fear mingled with curiosity in the Little Wolf's voice as he asked, "What are you?"

"Ghosts," Wǎng replied, his tone blunt and commanding.

"Brother Wu Kong!" the Little Wolf cried out instinctively, as though calling for help.

Wǎng let out a loud snort, his imposing presence nearly overwhelming the Little Wolf.

"Wǎng! Wǎng!"

The Three-Tailed Female Fox stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Little Brother, they are Ghosts, beings of a different race altogether."

She wrapped her tails around the Little Wolf, shielding him from Wǎng's intimidating aura. Despite his fear, the Little Wolf peeked out, his gaze darting nervously between the Ghosts.

"Big Brother Bear would've liked them," he whispered, his voice trembling but his courage still flickering.

He was about to continue when the Three-Tailed Fox motioned toward the fallen trees and the enormous body of the Bear. The once-mighty creature lay lifeless, its massive form crumpled against a large boulder.

The Little Wolf froze, his earlier bravery replaced by a cold realization of the situation.

Shengxin watched the two Beasts in silence. Despite having narrowly escaped becoming their prey, he couldn't help but feel a sense of compassion for them. His thoughts briefly wandered to the roasted meats he had enjoyed in the past, wondering if perhaps this wasn't so different after all.

Tú Yòu emerged from Shengxin's Sea of Consciousness, his expression filled with irritation. 

"Why would you let them go so easily, Young Master?" he asked, his voice carrying a sharp edge. "Beasts like them never change. Set them free, and they'll just return to their wicked ways." 

Shengxin regarded him calmly. "And what would you suggest, Tú Yòu?" 

Tú Yòu crossed his arms, confidence brimming. "Make them hand over all their valuables. I'll keep them safe for you." 

Shengxin raised an eyebrow. "Can you even handle physical objects? You're a spirit, aren't you?" 

Tú Yòu straightened his posture, puffing out his chest. "I'm no ordinary spirit! I was created to interact with the physical world. Of course, I can!" 

Turning back to the two Beasts before him, Shengxin considered his options. He wasn't in need of anything material at the moment, but another thought crossed his mind—he didn't yet have a Tamed Beast of his own. Perhaps now was the time to change that. 

Ān'nà, ever perceptive, caught on immediately. 

"Young Master," she said, stepping forward, "if you're thinking of taming one of them, the Fox is your only viable option. The Little White Wolf is far too young—he's still nursing. He wouldn't be of any use in a fight." 

Her tone grew sharper as she continued. "That Fox, however, could evolve into a Nine-Tailed Fox one day. Strong, but dangerous. If you're not going to tame her, we should kill her now. Better that than letting her live to harm more humans." 

The Fox, hearing this grim suggestion, immediately dropped to her knees. Pressing her forehead to the ground, she pleaded desperately, "Master, please take me as your Tamed Beast. I swear to serve you faithfully, in battle and in life." 

Ān'nà's expression darkened as she slapped the Fox hard across her face. "Watch your tongue, you shameless Fox! Don't you dare sully my Young Master with your flirtatious ways!" 

The Fox flinched, clutching her stinging cheek as tears welled in her eyes. Despite her fear, she wrapped her arms protectively around the trembling Little White Wolf, shielding him from further harm. 

Shengxin observed this with growing curiosity. Despite her situation, the Fox's loyalty to the young Wolf was unwavering. 

"Ān'nà, that's enough," Shengxin said, his tone firm but calm. "We can resolve this without violence." 

He turned to the Little White Wolf. "You. Stand up and return to your parents. From this day forward, do no harm to humans—no hunting, no killing. If you do, Ān'nà or Wǎng will find you and end it." 

The Little White Wolf hesitated, glancing nervously between Shengxin and the Fox. 

The Fox crouched to his level, her voice soft and soothing. "Child, listen to this human. Go back to your parents. They're waiting for you." 

"But Big Sister…" the Little Wolf whimpered. 

The Fox smiled gently, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Go, little one. Big Sister will stay with this human. He's kind—I'll be safe with him. I promise, when the time is right, I'll come visit you." 

"Really? You promise?" the Little Wolf asked, his tail wagging slightly as he extended a tiny paw, mimicking a human pinky promise he'd once seen. 

The Fox glanced at Shengxin, silently seeking his approval. 

Shengxin gave a small nod. "Yes. We'll visit you someday. Now go. Don't forget my warnings." 

The Little Wolf's hesitation melted away. Nodding confidently, he turned and dashed into the underbrush. Moments later, his small form disappeared, and the distant howl of the Wolf King echoed through the forest, joined by the chorus of his pack. 

Shengxin turned his attention back to the Fox. "What's your name?" 

"I don't have a name, Young Master," she replied, bowing her head low. 

"Young Master should give her one," Ān'nà suggested, her tone surprisingly neutral. 

"Call her Ru Bà," Tú Yòu said lazily, perched on Ān'nà's shoulder as he nonchalantly picked his nose. 

Shengxin ignored the suggestion, deep in thought. Finally, he said, "You're the fourth creature I've tamed, so your name will be Hóng Sì." 

The Fox's eyes widened. "Thank you, Young Master. I will honor this name." 

Shengxin nodded, then bit his finger and began the taming ceremony. A radiant light enveloped the Fox, marking the completion of their bond. On the back of Shengxin's right hand, the symbol of their connection appeared, glowing faintly before settling into his skin. 

"All right, Hóng Sì," Shengxin said. "Lead us out of the forest." 

As they walked, Ān'nà suddenly broke the silence. "Wait a minute. Something's wrong. If the Fox is Number Four, then who's Number Three? And for that matter, what number am I?" 

"Of course, I'm the first! I'm the eldest brother, the leader of the pack. Hooray!" Tú Yòu, usually sluggish, suddenly sprang to life at the mention of "birthright." 

"That's ridiculous," Ān'nà retorted sharply. "You're clearly just a kid. Look at your tiny body, your squeaky voice, and your childish behavior. How could you possibly claim to be the eldest?" 

Inwardly, she added, If I let this little brat have his way, he'll only become more insufferable. 

Wǎng, bringing up the rear of the group, remained silent, neither understanding nor caring about this "birthright" debate. He kept walking, his massive presence a quiet but undeniable reassurance. 

Meanwhile, the argument between Ān'nà and Tú Yòu escalated, to the point where they resorted to playing rock-paper-scissors to settle the matter. 

At the front of the group, Hóng Sì paid no attention to their bickering. She focused entirely on her duty—guiding her new Master, Shengxin, safely through the forest. Occasionally, she warned him to tread carefully over soft or slippery terrain. 

"Master, we should avoid areas where humans might be," she advised. "Your presence with the four of us would terrify them. They'd either faint or… soil themselves." 

Shengxin nodded in agreement, grateful for her foresight. 

After what felt like hours, they finally reached the edge of the forest. 

Shengxin turned to his companions. "You've done well. It's time for you all to return to my Sea of Consciousness." 

Before they entered, Shengxin addressed Hóng Sì directly. "Be patient, and stay strong. I will only reveal you to others when I'm powerful enough to protect you. You're too rare and precious—people will covet you. Until then, no one must know that I have four incredible tamed creatures. Let them think I'm just a useless orphan with no skills. For now, I'll keep participating in the Beast Hunts to maintain appearances." 

Hóng Sì bowed deeply, her loyalty unwavering, as she disappeared into the Sea of Consciousness with the others. 

---

When Shengxin returned home, his cousin Ruòzhēn greeted him with a sneer. "Cousin, why don't you just die already?" he whispered venomously. 

His uncle, Ruòzhēn's father, Yán Bózhào, wasn't any kinder. "Did you catch anything for tonight's feast?" he asked, his tone impatient. 

"I barely made it back alive, Uncle," Shengxin replied honestly. "I didn't have time to catch anything." 

Yán Bózhào's face twisted in anger. "Then why did you even bother coming back? What do you plan to eat tonight? A free meal?" 

From within Shengxin's Sea of Consciousness, Hóng Sì growled, her voice laced with anger. "Master, let me out. I'll tear his mouth apart!" 

Ān'nà, ever quick to scold, shot back sarcastically. "Oh, please, Bitch Fox. Don't act all righteous now. It's your fault the Young Master got scolded in the first place!" 

Hóng Sì recoiled slightly, her ears flattening in guilt. "You're right… Forgive SìSì, Master!" 

Tú Yòu chimed in with a mocking laugh. "SìSì? What a spoiled little thing you are!" 

Suddenly, Wǎng's deep voice boomed through the Sea of Consciousness. "Wǎng. Sleep." 

Instantly, the chatter ceased. No one dared to challenge Wǎng's authority. Hóng Sì, quick to recognize the true hierarchy, sidled up to Wǎng and curled up beside his massive arm. 

Ān'nà glared at her, flexing her sharp nails threateningly. "Just wait, Bitch Fox. Your time will come." 

Hóng Sì pretended not to notice, inching closer to Wǎng as if seeking his protection. 

Ān'nà finally relented with an exasperated sigh, muttering, "You're lucky this time." 

Back in the real world, Yán Bózhào was about to send Shengxin back into the forest when Yán Shàorén, his grandfather, returned. Assessing the situation, Yán Shàorén intervened. 

"Enough, Bózhào," he said sternly. "Let the boy rest. He's been through enough today." 

Grateful for his grandfather's intervention, Shengxin quickly excused himself and headed to his room. 

On the way, he passed Xuē Rén'jū, his mother's trusted confidant. Leaning in, Shengxin whispered, "Thank you for the necklace, Uncle Xuē." 

Xuē Rén'jū froze for a moment, processing the words. Then, bowing respectfully, he replied, "I am only fulfilling the duty entrusted to me by your mother before her passing." 

Shengxin offered a small smile. "Good. Thank you. Now, I need a bath and some rest. I'm exhausted." 

He continued to his secluded room at the back of the Yán Clan villa—a room once considered a punishment for its isolation. Now, it was the perfect sanctuary, providing the privacy he needed to train and coordinate with his four tamed creatures. 

----------------------------------------End of Chapter 3------------------------------------