Had they not made sure the doors and windows were tightly shut, the scraps of paper swirling before them would have made them feel as though they were outside in a snowstorm.
The sobbing rose louder and louder, but after a few seconds of adjustment, it no longer sounded quite so piercing.
And the staff could clearly sense that as more paper scraps drifted through the air, the cries changed from a sound surrounding them to one approaching from behind.
When Song Yitong turned around in shock, she saw a gray shadow approaching amid the white paper scraps.
It drew closer, sobbing as it went, its cries brimming with emotion, regret, and remorse.
Yi Tong tilted her head, confusion in her eyes. It clearly was not human, yet she could genuinely sense that uniquely human quality in it—emotion.
"Look!"
Unlike Song Yitong, who had looked behind her, Mo Lan had kept her gaze fixed ahead.
At some point, the Bronze Ancient Coffin in front of them had been put away, leaving only a tall, long-haired figure standing calmly before the door.
The white sheets stuck to his body had fallen away one after another and, under the influence of the transformation, turned into scraps as well.
The red light that had radiated from those sheets had gone out completely, revealing the original black of his clothes.
But the red light had not disappeared after leaving his body. It had merely condensed into a much dimmer human shape, sprawled at his feet.
The Red-clothed Ghost.
From possessing him to leaving his body, everything this ghost had done baffled Mo Lan and the others, especially why its red light had suddenly dimmed, as though it were being suppressed by a supernatural force.
Using the Stage Sword as a cane, Ji Li stood