Kubeiro Estate.
Only one or two months had passed, yet this once-prosperous manor had already turned into an abandoned, corpse-silent ruin. During daylight, the place still looked barely tolerable—desolate, yes, but not truly terrifying. But when night fell, the manor became something else entirely.
Ghostly shadows lingered at the edges of vision. Whispers wandered through the darkness. The soldiers assigned to blockade the place heard eerie wails every night—soft, drawn-out cries like the sorrowful moans of women. Many were so frightened they could not sleep for days, their nerves stretched thin.
If not for the strict orders of their superiors, the soldiers would have abandoned their posts long ago.
The Silver Moon Viscount had already sent an exploration team days earlier: one Great Knight and five Knights. Only one Knight managed to escape—barely alive and mentally shattered. He screamed at shadows, unable to form coherent sentences.
Standing a short distance from the manor's gate, the Silver Moon Viscount's expression clouded with grief. Losing a Great Knight and several Knights was a blow he felt deeply.
"What's the situation inside now?" Magus asked calmly.
The scribe beside the Viscount hurriedly replied, "The manor is now overrun with mandala flowers. Nearly all original vegetation is dead. Thick mist appears even during the day."
Magus's eyes narrowed slightly.
Mandalas—beautiful, intoxicating, and poisonous. They possessed hallucinogenic properties even under normal circumstances. But these mandalas had grown alongside the Bloody Mandarava, meaning their toxicity and hallucinogenic effects far exceeded anything a mundane herb could produce.
Now, the manor was saturated with their pollen and strange fragrance, transforming it into a lethal environment. Anyone below the rank of Knight would die simply by stepping in. Even Knights or Great Knights would be able to exert only sixty to seventy percent of their normal strength because the toxins and illusions would constantly gnaw at their senses.
The Silver Moon Viscount hesitated before asking, "Lord Anger, what do you intend to do?"
Magus cast a Shield spell on himself, the translucent layer shimmering faintly around him. "You wait outside."
"You don't want me to send anyone with you?" the Viscount asked, surprised.
"No need." Magus waved dismissively.
Knights were useless in an evil spirit's ghost domain. They would only become liabilities—potentially even turning into threats if illusions seized their minds mid-battle. Magus had no intention of fighting an evil spirit while constantly checking to ensure his allies weren't stabbing him in the back.
He took out a runic gemstone, gripping it lightly, and began walking toward the manor.
Hidden Dragon and Amy remained behind.
Evil spirits found prey using perception, not eyesight. Hidden Dragon's camouflage abilities were meaningless here, and his claws could not harm incorporeal spirits. Amy, though loyal, was simply helpless in a place like this.
The moment Magus stepped past the manor's gate, the world changed.
The daylight dimmed instantly, as though a shroud of grey had been draped over everything. A gloomy chill filled the air. A cold wind brushed past him, carrying faint sobbing noises—indistinct, shaky, like someone crying from a faraway corner of the world.
"So many negative energy particles…" Magus muttered.
For wizards who specialized in necromancy or those with methods to neutralize negative energy side effects, this place would be a cultivation paradise. Meditating here would at least double their progress.
Unfortunately, Magus possessed no such means. And even if he had, the evil spirits haunting this place would never allow him to meditate peacefully.
He paused briefly, then continued forward.
Mandala flowers blanketed everything within sight—brilliantly colored blossoms that swayed as he walked deeper. After Magus stepped inside, their petals subtly shifted direction, as though turning to face him. Their movements were synchronized, unnatural, almost welcoming in the most unsettling way.
Magus remained unfazed.
In his previous life, he had seen far worse in the game worlds he once traversed—babbling orbs, sanity-devouring parasites, abominations from other dimensions. Compared to those horrors, these flowers were practically pleasant scenery.
The courtyard was silent. Magus crossed it and entered through a side door, walking down a dim corridor until he reached the manor's main hall.
Under the influence of negative energy, the furniture had rotted into warped husks. Mandala vines pierced through tables, chairs, and walls, spreading outward like parasitic veins that now covered the hall almost entirely.
Magus fetched a longsword from his Rubik's Cube, casually slicing away obstructing vines. Indistinct whimpering echoed in his ears—sad, breathy sounds like the dying moans of the lost.
He searched several rooms but found nothing useful. Only mandalas. More mandalas. An endless sea of mandalas.
"Without a detection spell like Detect Undead, locating the true body of an evil spirit inside a ghost domain is almost impossible by sight alone."
He stopped walking.
A pale mist had silently filled the area around him. Fortunately, he had already activated the protection ring the moment he entered the manor. The force field shielded him from the toxins for now, but prolonged exposure would quickly wear it down.
He needed to finish this quickly.
Magus raised his hand, and a crimson runic gemstone materialized between his fingers.
He snapped his wrist.
A wave of fire erupted outward from his body, sweeping across the hall in every direction.
The mandalas reacted instantly. They writhed and trembled, as if alive and frightened, trying desperately to evade the flames. But the magical fire swallowed them mercilessly, turning their twisting forms into ash.
In seconds, the entire manor responded like a pot of boiling oil. Whispers turned to shrieks, the air trembling with unseen agitation.
The sobbing sounds rose in pitch, becoming sharp cries of agony.
Thick mist surged toward the flames, desperately trying to extinguish them. But these were no ordinary flames. They were conjured with condensed magical energy—normal moisture and mist could not smother them.
Magus moved swiftly through the manor, casting more fire runic gemstones as he advanced. Soon, the entire manor was engulfed in a sea of roaring fire.
As the mandalas burned into charcoal, their intoxicating fragrance faded rapidly, and the oppressive mist thinned.
Then—
"Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!"
A shrill, piercing scream echoed across the manor.
An invisible force rippled through the air. The blazing flames froze mid-dance, then shrank violently, collapsing into nothingness within moments.
In the sudden stillness, a dark red mandala materialized on an open patch of ground a hundred meters ahead of Magus. Its petals unfurled gracefully. At its center, where a stamen should be, a twisted human face stared outward, its expression frozen in agony.
Beside the grotesque flower stood a young girl.
She wore a once-white dress that was now smeared with streaks of black and red. Her long hair hung in messy tangles. Her face—pale, warped, contorted—twisted further as she looked at Magus, her lips curling into a sinister, blood-chilling smile.
"Finally showing yourself?" Magus said calmly.
Jie jie jie…
Hideous laughter echoed from every direction.
Shadowy figures appeared—some solid, some translucent—emerging from the ground, the walls, and the air itself. They circled Magus slowly. Their shapes were vaguely human, and with some effort, one could identify them: the manor's former servants, soldiers, residents.
Among the shadows stood five armored figures, their auras more dreadful than the rest.
The Viscount's lost Great Knight and his accompanying Knights.
Twisted after death. Corrupted into vengeful spirits by the influence of the Bloody Mandarava.
The spirits shrieked as one and lunged toward Magus.
Magus did not move. The protective force field surrounding him meant these vengeful spirits had no hope of harming him.
He opened his palm, summoning a pristine gemstone out of thin air.
With a gesture, he pointed.
A ghostly figure wavered violently, as if caught by an invisible hook. It shrieked as some unseen force pulled it into the gemstone.
A flash of eerie light rippled across the gem's surface.
Its color shifted—changing into a dull, unnatural
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