Yang Jian's voice echoed through the deathly silent, dilapidated wooden house. His answer came as a surprise.
"All the same? What do you mean by that?" the mysterious, eerie old man continued to ask.
"You don't need to understand. You only need to know that I came this time to fulfill the promise I made that day. It may be a little late, but time seems to mean nothing to an existence like you," Yang Jian said again.
He did not wish to explain too much.
Because Yang Jian was a one-in-a-million exception. The experience and knowledge of the supernatural circle from the past could not explain him.
"As long as you're willing to save me, it doesn't matter whether you're Ghost Child or Yang Jian. Either is fine. I'm only worried that you still can't do it—that you can't contend with the supernatural here," the old man's voice rang out, carrying a trace of unease.
Throughout the incredibly long time he had been trapped here, only Yang Jian had truly entered this place for a second time.
There had been unlucky people who stumbled in by mistake, but none of them could leave alive. Even if someone had escaped by sheer luck, they could never return, much less save him.
"You can remember a promise from sixty years ago, yet you cannot see how the times have changed. What a pitiful failure. Do you still think that, like before, I need to tread carefully and cower in fear when facing the supernatural and vicious ghosts here? Time can bury many things, and it can create many things as well."
Yang Jian's expression was cold as he strode toward the stairs.
His steps were steady and swift. He paid no attention whatsoever to the abnormalities around him or the hidden