George Smith did not answer. Although this guy saved me, he’s not a good person. I recalled some legendary tales told by storytellers in Luoyang—about the Northern Territory. Could it really be the domain of gods and ghosts?

A chill wind suddenly swept by, and George Smith’s black robe billowed. The wind grew stronger, sand and dust swirling rapidly all around. The blazing sun vanished, the sky turned gloomy, and thick, oppressive black clouds gathered overhead.

“It’s going to rain lightning!” George Smith suddenly hugged me tightly, our skin pressed together.

I had fantasized countless times about embracing a beautiful girl. But now, an old, ugly, terrifying man—George Smith—mercilessly shattered my dream.

Goosebumps rose all over me. What a pervert!

The sky had already turned into pitch-black night.

A wild wind howled, thunder roared. The horizon flashed with jagged bolts of lightning, like fiery serpents wildly dancing.

A torrential downpour began, the raindrops were blue, like merciless steel whips lashing down on us. Everywhere, blue streaks flashed like fierce lightning, tearing open the night.

Strangely, the lightning rain that fell near me always veered away, not a single drop touched me.

My heart trembled, and I suddenly understood: neither the swords of those robed men and women nor the lightning rain could harm me. This was why George Smith valued me. Only by bringing me, a medium, could he safely enter the Northern Territory.

The raft sped forward, the entire sea of sand heaving like waves, the world spinning.

I cried out in alarm, but my voice was swallowed by the roaring thunderstorm. Countless bizarre monsters and evil spirits crawled out of the desert, shrieking sharply as they lunged at the raft.

I was so scared I nearly wet my pants, but before the ghosts and monsters could get close, they all collapsed. Blue raindrops struck them, sparks flared, and they were soon engulfed in flames, quickly turning into pitch-black charcoal.

The lightning rain gradually ceased, and bright clouds appeared in the sky. George Smith let out a sigh of relief and released me. My poor first embrace had actually been stolen by an old man.

After a long while, the raft slowly came to a stop.

The sea of sand had come to an end.

Mist swirled, smoke lingered, and an enormous stone egg stood amidst the clouds and mist—round, solid, so tall its top was out of sight. On the gray-brown surface of the stone egg, from top to bottom, two strange characters were engraved. The writing shimmered, flowing with rainbow-colored light.

Staring at the characters, George Smith’s eyes shot out a burning red light. He pulled me along, step by step, toward the stone egg. At its base was a rectangular hollow. He told me to lie in the pit, then lay down beside me and closed his eyes.

I was stunned. What the hell was this bastard up to? Did he want me to sleep with him?

He really is a first-class pervert!

Suddenly, the stone egg rumbled and rolled toward us. My heart pounded in terror as the massive stone egg crashed down. Everything went black, my bones felt crushed, pain wracked my whole body, and I fainted again.

When I woke up, I heard the sound of trickling water.

Water was everywhere—clear, transparent, like the gaze of a young girl. The water flowed constantly, into my nostrils, ears, and eyes. Yet I felt nothing, as if I were still on land, able to breathe freely.

We were in a dark stone cave, completely filled with water. George Smith was slapping my face over and over. When he saw me wake up, he finally stopped.

Rubbing my swollen, aching face, I scrambled up angrily. “You bastard, why are you slapping me? Even if you hit me, I’m still better looking than you!”

George Smith grabbed my neck viciously, his face twisted with rage. “Say one more word and you die!” His sharp nails dug deep into my flesh. Suddenly, I realized—we must have entered the Northern Territory, and George Smith no longer needed me.

I immediately put on a fawning smile. He could kill me as easily as squashing an ant.

“Behave.” George Smith let go of me and pointed to a door at the back of the cave. “Go open the door!”

Under someone else’s roof, how could I not bow my head? Though I cursed George Smith and all his ancestors in my heart, I still sensibly obeyed his command.

Behind the door was actually a palace. Though half of its four pillars had collapsed, and the plaque above the door was broken and overgrown with weeds, the palace still gleamed, dazzling and crystal clear.

A crystal palace!

The vast hall was empty; not a soul in sight. I mustered my courage and called out a few times, but no one answered.

George Smith suddenly darted forward, rushing into the hall. Curious, I followed him. Passing through winding corridors, we came to a long curtain of luminous pearls, sparkling and swaying in the water.

Thump, thump, thump… My heart suddenly raced, as if something very familiar was calling to me from behind the beaded curtain.

It was so strange—I was sure I’d never been here before! Trembling, I reached out and abruptly lifted the curtain.

A massive, terrifying beast skeleton appeared before my eyes.

It looked like a butterfly, but not quite. The white bones spread out on both sides like wings—rounded, full of graceful curves. Two sharp horns stood upright on its head, and beneath the arched belly bone, seven sharp claws grew, embedded in a fiery red agate pillar on the ground.