A tall figure appeared beside the giant stone signboard. Tilting his head back to view it for a minute, the faint trace of a smile suffused his face.

This was Wen Kexing. He himself wasn’t even sure what route he had taken, to have reached the Valley a step ahead of everyone else. He was leading a straight-black horse along; the beast seemed to have intelligence, pacing fretfully near the sign like it was unwilling to enter.

He smiled, reaching out to pet its face. He took off both its bridle and saddle, then pat it on its body. “Go on.”

In a human-like way, the horse blinked its big eyes as it watched him for a time. After trotting a few steps away, it looked back at the man, as if somewhat reluctant to part from him. Upon witnessing him wave at it, it sped off in large strides.

Wen Kexing stood in place for a second. “Those with souls, do not pass…” he sneered. With a raise of his hand, there seemed to be a strong gust wrapped inside his sleeve as he harshly swiped the stone sign, thus erasing three-fourths of its words with a bang. Detritus fell down in succession. That enormous sound barged into the Valley as it was carried along with the wind, reverberating non-stop.

Shortly after, a gray silhouette appeared out of thin air. The shouts coming from his mouth were extremely sharp, like pieces of iron slashing against each other, and hearing them could give one goosebumps. “Who dares to trespass…”

His subsequent words got stuck in his throat, that gray shadow halting three zhang away from Wen Kexing. After getting a good look at who had come, an indescribable, utterly fearful expression appeared on him in an instant, gurgling sounds coming out of his larynx. He almost couldn’t form any sounds. “V-V-V…Valley Master.”

Quickly reacting, he knelt onto the ground with a plop, then buried his head down low, as if he was soon about to be buried, period. “Respectful greetings to you, Valley Master,” he trembled out.

Wen Kexing didn’t even glance at him. “Have Lao Meng and Sun Ding come back yet?” he asked, indifferent. “Tell them to come and see me.”

Not waiting for the minor Ghost to answer him, he passed right by him. The gray-clothed man nevertheless seemed to have just endured a life-and-death catastrophe; it wasn’t until the other had gone far away that he shakily looked up, his entire back already soaked with cold sweat.

Slowly, he betrayed a hateful expression, stood up, and soundlessly slipped into the woods. Ghost Valley’s Master — that was a genuine lunatic, a real evil demon. His moods fluctuated, where one moment, he would be chatting with someone, all smiles, and the next, he might have snatched the other’s head.