Ji Li saw them, one figure after another draped in deathly white wedding robes, their coldly beautiful faces seeping malice that scraped over every inch of his skin.
They went berserk and began tearing him apart, like a pride of lions savaging a lone antelope. Their bloodthirsty instincts demanded that they rip him to pieces and crush his bones between their teeth.
The agony of death came second. First came the sight of himself being torn to shreds.
His blood spattered everywhere, landing in the bloody water on the floor and sending out rings of ripples, as though rain had begun falling from this fabricated sky.
But just then, Ji Li caught a streak of gold flashing through the corner of his vision, mysterious and unreal.
That dim golden light stood out brilliantly against the blood-red and deathly white, making it seem all the more like a hallucination.
The golden shape seemed to be a character, a twisted, obscure traditional Chinese character. It was incomplete, because it had been tattooed onto his skin and was now scattering as that skin was torn apart.
Death was inevitable.
The ghosts had already won. Within mirror No. 1, they were unbeatable. As long as they could still act, there was no way to stop them.
Ji Li was being torn apart, sliced open, and dismembered. The process was agonizing, its horror plain to see, yet death was slow in coming.
But as he watched that golden light flicker out in an instant, he suddenly parted his lips.
"Heh... hahahahaha..."
The corners of Ji Li's split mouth were ripped open, blood still seeping between his stark white teeth. His laughter rose from a faint chuckle to a deafening roar that echoed throughout mirror No. 1.
"So you dragged me here."
The emphasis was neither