Magic: Reincarnate from high-voltage electricity at the start, level up independently.

With a single step, the Wish Witch shut out the shattered dream world around her.

Before me lay an endless, desolate chaos, shrouded in deathly silence. There was no sunlight, no air currents, and no trace of any living beings. The entire space and time were murky and stagnant, a desolation that chilled the heart.

She moved with a light and graceful gait, stepping on nothingness. Her pure white figure stood out against the pitch-black chaos as she walked unhurriedly toward the only strange sight in the distance.

Before long, the small blue-brick house that had been floating in the depths of chaos came into clear view.

Two white paper lanterns hang in front of the house, each with a black character "奠" (meaning "offering sacrifice") written on it.

The pale, cold light fell silently in front of the door, casting a chilling deathly aura over the surrounding chaos.

The Wish Witch paused at the door, raising her eyes to look at the old wooden plaque above the entrance.

The plaque was dark in color and engraved with two simple and desolate characters: Night Terrace.

Her gaze was calm and indifferent as she murmured to herself.

"It really is a land of the dead."

The voice just fell.

"Creak—"

The harsh, dry scraping sound of the wooden door suddenly rang out.

The old, heavy wooden door remained unopened. The chilling stillness and deathly silence accumulated over countless years, along with the pungent smell of blood, transformed into a biting, eerie wind that howled towards us.

The Wish Witch frowned almost imperceptibly.

She was not afraid of the dangers or the eeriness lurking in the place; she simply loathed this filthy and desolate environment.

Inside the small house, it was pitch black; the thick darkness swallowed up all light, making it impossible to see anything inside.

At that moment, that familiar, wooden, hoarse, and cold voice slowly emerged from the deep darkness.

"Please come in."

Without the slightest hesitation, the Wish Witch stepped across the threshold.

For a moment, my feet felt disoriented, as if I had crossed the boundary between life and death and stepped into a completely new and independent alternate dimension.

The moment she stepped inside, candlelight began to flicker in the dark room.

The faint firelight flickered and swayed in the gusts of cold wind, casting a dim and hazy light that made the whole room appear to be in an uncertain state of light and shadow.

The interior layout is simple and old-fashioned.

Directly in front of them was an old table, which was covered with all sorts of bloody objects.

Vibrant eyeballs, a still-warm beating heart, organs, intestines... each piece of flesh and blood was dripping, with a faint steam rising from the surface, clearly fresh flesh and blood that had just been peeled off.

The stench of blood was overwhelming, so strong it was almost tangible.

The Wish Witch slowly stepped forward, casually picked up a plate, and examined it closely.

Her eyes remained indifferent from beginning to end, showing no fear, no disgust, as if these horrifying bloody offerings were nothing more than ordinary mortals.

A moment later, she raised her hand and gently placed the plate back in its original position.

In the deathly silent room, from the direction of the counter, that hoarse, wooden voice came again.

"If you are interested, please feel free to sample it."

"unnecessary."

The Wish Witch spoke indifferently, then turned her head, her gaze fixed on the depths of the counter.

Behind the counter stood a large, antique-style armchair.

A figure sat quietly in the chair.

The man was dressed in a complete dark blue funeral shroud, its style old-fashioned and solemn. Two long, slender feathers, resembling those of the Monkey King from a theatrical troupe, stood upright on his head, swaying slightly in the wind, creating an incongruous and eerie effect.

His face was deathly pale, like a dead person's paper skin, without a trace of blood, but his cheeks were smeared with two thick, gaudy patches of rouge, and his lips were painted with a thick, blood-red lip rouge.

His eyebrows and eyes were stiff and lifeless, and he didn't look like a living person at all. Instead, he looked like a carefully drawn paper figure placed in a funeral hall, exuding a creepy and eerie feeling.

The person in the burial shroud sat motionless, without getting up, and slowly raised his eyes, giving the Wish Witch a stiff, distorted smile.

A hoarse, cold voice rang out again.

"Welcome to my humble abode, Miss Witch."

Upon hearing this, the Wish Witch's gaze turned icy, and with a cold snort, she locked onto the figure before her.

"A strange and malevolent entity has intruded into the dream world I created, disrupting my game of chess."

Her tone was sharp and devoid of any warmth: "Give me an explanation."

"Otherwise, I will raze this very place of yours to the ground today!"

Every word is crisp and clear, every sentence is ruthless.

And she absolutely has the confidence to back it up.

As the supreme witch who wields the laws of dreams, she considers herself no less than any other being in the world.

Whether it's the witch sisters of the same origin or the powerful beings who have attained enlightenment in various realms, she has the power to fight them all.

The person in the burial shroud before her exuded a mysterious and unfathomable aura; he was one of the few opponents of the same level whom she could not see through.

Ultimately, however, the two reached the same level.

Once war breaks out, the aftershocks will shake the heavens, and destroying this little house will be the least of the consequences.

Faced with the witch's furious questioning, the man in the shroud merely gave a fake smile, his tone flat and emotionless: "An explanation? There's not much to say."

He paused slightly, then slowly added, "If the witch insists on a reason, then it's just that my strange pets, which I keep under my command, have temporarily lost control and caused trouble."

"It was my fault for disturbing the witch's chess game and disrupting the order of the dream."

After saying this, he reached into his robes and took out an item.

It was a strange fragrance that was pitch black all over, surrounded by the cold aura of decaying corpses, with wisps of the Great Dao hidden within it. It seemed eerie and ominous, but it contained supreme mystery.

The black incense detached from his palm and floated slowly through the air toward the Wish Witch.

"This item is offered as an apology."

A strange fragrance arrived in an instant.

The Wish Witch raised her hand and precisely grasped the fragrant body, then lowered her eyes to examine it closely.

In a short while, her usually indifferent and expressionless brows suddenly furrowed, and for the first time in the dimly lit room, a genuine look of surprise appeared on her usually aloof and beautiful face.

She looked up, gazing again at the mysterious figure seated in the armchair, her voice tinged with disbelief: "You really intend to give me this incense?"

"Are you willing to give it up?"

Behind the counter, the voice of the person in the burial clothes was ethereal and elusive, as if separated by an ancient mist: "A few worldly possessions, nothing to be reluctant to part with."

"It is only right to make amends for mistakes."

He then pleaded softly, "I beg the witch to have mercy and spare that out-of-control evil creature this once."

The Wish Witch was silent for a moment, then nodded decisively in agreement: "Okay."

"Considering your sincerity, I will let bygones be bygones for what happened today."

The next instant, her voice turned icy and chilling, an overwhelming force of intimidation engulfing the entire small house: "But only this once!"

"If any strange creature dares to invade Witch Star and disrupt my order again—"

"I wouldn't mind personally venturing into the realm of the dead, shattering the nine netherworlds, and uprooting your ancestral homeland!"

"There will never be a next time." The person in the funeral clothes replied calmly, his tone composed yet revealing a deep sense of stoicism.

Having received a definite answer, the Witch of Wishes said no more, turned around, and left.

The moment she stepped outside, a cold wind suddenly swept through the house, and the wooden door of the small house creaked shut automatically.

The flickering candlelight inside the room went out with a snap, plunging the room into utter darkness and concealing all light and shadow.

In the deathly silence, thick with the stench of decay, a bizarre and mocking whisper suddenly exploded in the darkness:

"Heh heh, you're just willingly handing over a precious glimpse of heavenly secrets?"

The person in the funeral shroud was deathly pale, his expression completely blank. He slowly spoke, "Otherwise, what do you think I should do?"

"I thought you would just leave her here."

A strange voice, laced with greed, rang out, "That's a true Supreme Dao Prover! The witch's flesh and essence are the most precious treasures in the world. If we can absorb and refine them, our plan can advance another step!"

"You think I don't want to?"

The man in the shroud chuckled softly to himself, a deep, unfathomable fear hidden in his eyes. "There are still eleven demonic auras from beyond the realm locked onto this place. If I make any move, their laws will directly penetrate this chaotic land and overturn it."

The voice in the darkness suddenly realized, tinged with a hint of regret: "That's true. Those witches are all arrogant and domineering, not to be trifled with."

"In the past, they joined forces to overthrow an entire cultivation world, forcing the native inhabitants to wander the heavens with nowhere to live. This event still shocks all the worlds to this day and has not faded away."

It then pressed further: "So, by deliberately diverting the trouble to Witch Star, wasn't that a wrong move?"

The person in the burial shroud slowly shook his head, closed his eyes, and instantly all his aura vanished, leaving him like a lifeless and cold paper puppet.

"The game is over; there are no right or wrong moves."

"The myriad forms of life and the conflicts among the heavens will never change the final outcome because of a single move."

After he finished speaking, the small house fell into complete silence, without a sound.