I Only Wanted to Stay Unseen, Until...

Pay Ling's focus slipped just for no more than a second, and suddenly, the hem of his robe grew heavier, as if an unseen force was tugging at it. He glanced down just in time to see the robe fabric on his back being yanked downward by a half translucent, child-like ghost. Its grip was cold and unnatural, sending a jolt of panic through him.

Reacting on instinct, he slashed backward with the Blade of Life Hater. This time, there was no scream—only a sharp, searing pain in his thigh. The ghostly thing had bitten him, trading its own annihilation for one last, spiteful strike.

That single moment of distraction marked the beginning of a relentless onslaught. The footsteps around him thickened, growing frenzied and vengeful. Invisible monsters charged at him with reckless abandon, their malice palpable in the air. Pay Ling fought on, his movements growing more frantic as fear clawed at his mind. His blood surged, the blade's blood mist glowing brighter and dripping with an almost liquid intensity. Each swing unleashed a chorus of shrieks, snuffing out at least a dozen of the ghostly things.

But they were relentless. Though frail individually, their numbers were overwhelming. The old saying came to mind: When ants unite, they can lift an elephant. And now, with this endless swarm of vengeful spirits, they could certainly kill him. Cold sweat poured down Pay Ling's forehead as he swung the blade again and again, his stamina waning with every strike. Yet, no matter how many he cut down, their numbers seemed endless.

A few moments later, wounds began to dot his body—bites, scratches, and gashes that burned with an unnatural cold. Gasping for breath, he edged toward the courtyard gate, fighting while retreating. With a fierce kick, the gate shattered—but what lay beyond wasn't the familiar stone path. Instead, it was a boundless, ominous darkness that seemed to pulse with malice.

The darkness oozed foreboding, thick and suffocating, as if it were alive. Pay Ling gritted his teeth, ready to plunge into it. Maybe it's an illusion, he thought desperately. But as he neared the threshold, his instincts screamed at him to stop. Every fiber of his being recoiled from the idea of stepping into that void.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered, wiping cold sweat from his brow. Just then, another bite mark bloomed on his hand, the pain sharp and immediate. But in that moment of agony, a flash of clarity hit him. He shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos, "I've mastered the Blood Fiend Sword Art! Won't Lady Willow show herself?"

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the courtyard seemed to hold its breath. These past days, the looming fine had nearly made him forget Fairy Lith's ten-day deadline.

Sure enough, his words drew a response. From the darkness beyond the gate came a gentle, almost mocking sound—a soft harrumph that echoed with an otherworldly resonance.

The swarm of tiny footprints froze in place, their shrill wails rising in a cacophony of fear. They seemed spooked, poised to scatter and flee. Then, a streak of black light shot from the darkness, splitting into countless tiny, tadpole-like creatures that darted in all directions, chasing the ghostly figures with terrifying speed.

The courtyard filled with a horrifying rustling sound—like the gnawing of giant silkworms on the skin of some colossal beast. It was endless, grating, and utterly unnerving. Pay Ling's face paled as he watched the scene unfold, his grip on the Blade of Life Hater tightening.

The air grew heavy, suffocating, as if the very breath of the underworld had seeped into the room. A sudden, bone-chilling cold wrapped around him, and before he could react, a soft, icy presence pressed against his back. Pale, slender arms slithered over his shoulders like serpents, their delicate fingers inching toward his throat. Willow's frost-kissed breath grazed his earlobe, her lips hovering so close they nearly brushed his skin. Her voice, a sultry purr laced with venom, whispered, "Since young sir Pay Ling has mastered the Blood Fiend Sword Art… why are you still running from me?"

Her tone was sweet, almost playful, but beneath it lay a razor-sharp edge. "Do you know how long I searched for you on Ghost Shade Peak? How many nights I spent tracing your scent, your essence, through the shadows?" Her fingers danced along his throat, their touch as cold as death itself. "Chasing you… such a tiresome ordeal. But here you are, finally within my grasp."

Pay Ling's heart pounded, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade. He could feel the surge of blood within him, the power of the Blood Fiend Saber Art stirring, but he dared not move. "Lady Willow," he forced out, his voice strained, "you misunderstand. I'm not running. I merely left the sect to gather spirit stones. I'm… desperate for them."

"Oh?" Willow's voice was a silken thread, wrapping around him like a noose. In an instant, she was before him, her ghostly pale face mere inches from his. Her crimson lips curved into a smile that held no warmth, only a predatory gleam. "You, who just joined the sect, are already so desperate for stones? How… curious."

Pay Ling swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I killed Lee Sagwon, Chou Ease, and Miu Toanh. The sect demands a heavy fine for their deaths."

Willow's finger paused on his throat. She blinked, her beautiful, dark, hollow eyes widening for a moment before she erupted into a delighted, almost childlike laughter. "You smelted their souls and refined external Fiends? No wonder you mastered the Blood Fiend Sword Art so quickly. Oh, Pay Ling, you're full of surprises."

"External Fiends?" Pay Ling's mind raced. His mastery of the sword art had come from the system, not from any true understanding of its intricacies. He barely knew the words in the tome, let alone the deeper secrets it held. The term "external Fiends" was foreign to him, and for a moment, he was at a loss.

Willow's laughter subsided, and she covered her mouth with her sleeve, giggling as if she were a shy maiden. "The Blood Fiend Sword Art is divided into internal and external Fiends," she explained, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "The internal Fiend strengthens your body and suppresses the external Fiends, keeping your murderous intent in check. You slaughtered three right away—how bold! The external Fiends are manageable for now, but as you kill more… oh, Pay Ling, as the external Fiends pile up, the internal Fiend may fail. And when it does…" Her smile widened, her teeth glinting like shards of ice. "You'll go mad. A killing-crazed lunatic, tearing through everything in your path. Isn't that thrilling?"

Her hand, delicate and cold as a corpse's, suddenly seized his throat. Her grip was deceptively gentle, but the threat was unmistakable. "However," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, "even with all your kills, mastering this art in barely ten days? Impossible." Her black nails elongated, sharp and glistening, as they pressed against his brow.

"Young sir Pay Ling, what is your secret? Let me cut you open—just a little peek, hmm? I promise it won't hurt… much."

Her nail pierced his skin, and an icy pain shot through his skull. Warm blood trickled down his face, and terror gripped him like a vice. This yandere phantom, this beautiful, unhinged creature, was going to peel him apart right here, right now. Her laughter echoed in his ears, a haunting melody of madness and desire.

The air grew heavier, thicker, as if the shadows themselves were closing in. Pay Ling's breath hitched, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Willow's icy fingers lingered on his throat, her black nails digging ever so slightly into his skin. The pain was sharp, but it was the look in her eyes—those hollow, bottomless pits of darkness—that truly terrified him. She was going to peel him apart, piece by piece, and savor every moment of it.

But then, something shifted. Willow froze, her sweet, lovely face contorting in sudden horror. 

"No—no—Mistress sama…" 

Her crimson lips parted, and words tumbled out in a chaotic, desperate rush. "No—Mistress—no—Mistress didn't allow Willow to touch him—I—argh…" Her voice broke, a strangled cry escaping her throat as she wrestled with some unseen force.

For a moment, her delicate features twisted in fury, her eyes blazing with a red, unholy light. With a frustrated shriek, she flung Pay Ling aside, her voice echoing through the courtyard like a banshee's wail. "You'd better do something stupid to piss off Mistress soon! Then she'll toss you to me in a rage!!!"

Pay Ling stumbled back, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. He exhaled sharply, relief flooding his veins, though his heart still raced. Forcing a dry, nervous laugh, he stayed silent, not daring to provoke her further.

Willow, bound by Fairy Lith's will, could no longer act on her impulses. Her rage, however, was far from spent. She turned her wrath on the invisible children who had swarmed Pay Ling earlier. With a flick of her wrist, she snatched the black light—a small skull lampstand—from the shadows. Her slender fingers brushed against it, and a tiny flame sparked to life.

Unlike the lamp's dull, lifeless sheen, the flame burned bright and fierce, casting an eerie glow across the bleak courtyard. But within its light, childlike faces flickered, their expressions twisted in agony. Anguished wails filled the air, the sound of souls tormented beyond imagining.

Willow watched, enraptured, her lips curling into a cruel smile as she savored their suffering. Her gaze flicked to Pay Ling, and her tone shifted abruptly, as if nothing had happened. "Young sir Pay Ling," she cooed, her voice sweet and casual, "did you know? Once you start killing with the Blood Fiend Sword Art, you have to keep going. Even if one day the Internal Fiends can't suppress the external… you can't stop."

She trailed off, her smirk widening as she took in his pale face and furrowed brow. His worry was palpable, and it delighted her. Giggling behind her sleeve, she added, "Young sir Pay Ling, it seems you've got questions for me? Oh, don't look so frightened. I'm here to help… in my own way."