Chapter Three: Searching for Someone in the Mortal World

Of course, Black Obsidian had thought about returning sooner. His face was full of confusion—after being here for so long, he didn’t know if he should go back or not. Should he return to live a normal life again, or should he stay? But if he stayed, what could he even do? When Little Nian’er was in danger, he had been powerless, able only to stand by helplessly.

Yan Nianqing sensed immediately that Black Obsidian’s mood was off. He hurried to grab Black Obsidian’s arm, but Black Obsidian slipped away in a flash. “Daddy…” Yan Nianqing looked at his hand, not knowing what to do.

Black Obsidian unconsciously took a few steps back. “I—I’ll go back first.” He stumbled back to his room, his mind in a fog, and made his way to a dim corner, where he crouched down and buried his head in his knees.

He had always been like this since he was a child—whenever he was upset, he would find a little corner to hide himself away.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before the door creaked open. Yan Luo entered and immediately spotted Black Obsidian curled up in the corner. With a sigh, he walked over, scooped Black Obsidian up in one arm, and held him as they fell asleep together.

As dawn approached, Yan Luo slipped away quietly.

For several days after, Black Obsidian kept himself locked in his room, refusing to come out, until Ding Ning brought news that they would soon be heading to the mortal world.

In just a few days, Black Obsidian had grown noticeably thinner, his eyes dull and lifeless.

The magical array slowly activated, and Black Obsidian’s vision went black in an instant.

“Heh heh heh… Traveler, where do you wish to go?” The voice sounded ancient and weary.

“Where do I want to go? Ha, I don’t even know myself,” Black Obsidian replied with a bitter smile.

“You don’t know? Hm… Young people these days…” The old man—let’s just call him that—sounded puzzled. “Well, never mind, you must be heading to another world, I suppose!”

Black Obsidian answered softly.

“Good, good. Then leave behind something very important to you, and you may go,” the old man said placidly.

Something important to him… Black Obsidian’s hand instinctively moved to his hair.

“Your five senses, a cherished belonging, or your feelings for someone—they’re all acceptable. How about it? Quite the bargain, isn’t it?” The old man’s voice carried a trace of amusement.

Black Obsidian was silent for a long while. “Then I’ll choose the third.”

The old man paused, then let out a laugh, gloating, “Boy, are you nursing a broken heart?”

Black Obsidian was speechless and impatient. “Think what you like.”

“All right, all right. Since you’ve made your choice, leave it behind. See that bright spot over there? That’s the exit.”

Black Obsidian followed his instructions and walked over.

“Sigh, young people nowadays! Their hearts are truly unfathomable…”

Familiar skyscrapers, zebra crossings at every corner, shops large and small everywhere…

It was only then that Black Obsidian realized he was back. Haishi and the others had arrived even before him, waiting there. His heart felt as if it had been wiped clean—relieved of a heavy burden.

“Well? Any luck?” Black Obsidian asked directly.

“No. There’s too much information in this world, no way to even start,” Haishi replied, dejected.

“Then do you remember any special features of Mirage?” Black Obsidian pressed on.

Haishi’s eyes lit up. “We, the Mirage Clan, our appearances never change no matter where we are. And he has a red mole behind his left ear.”

Yan Nianqing saw how much more at ease Black Obsidian seemed and relaxed himself, teasing, “How do you know he hasn’t concealed his real appearance?”

Haishi scratched his head and laughed with a frown. “If he still has the power to hide his face, then I’d have nothing to worry about.”

“Now, we have a more pressing problem,” Haishi went on. “Where are we going to stay tonight?”

Black Obsidian pressed a hand to his forehead, exasperated, “Stay, all of you. At my place.”

Their clothes were so bizarre, and their looks so striking, that on the way back to Black Obsidian’s apartment, they drew stares everywhere they went—especially from the elderly residents, who were all incredibly enthusiastic.

Right on the stairs, they ran into someone.

“Oh, Ah Yao, haven’t seen you in days! Where have you been? My granddaughter misses you—she wants you to tell her another story!” said Granny Li with a broad smile.

Black Obsidian replied cheerfully, “Don’t worry, Granny Li! I’ll tell her a story next time I see her.”

“Good, I’ll hold you to that! Come over and play when you have time. My old man’s been hoping you’d play chess with him again!”

Granny Li bustled away, and Black Obsidian, still in high spirits, pulled the key from under his doormat and opened the door, making straight for his outrageously soft bean bag couch.

He sank into it with a look of utter bliss.

Haishi looked around in disdain, “This place is so small—can it even fit us all?”

Without opening his eyes, Black Obsidian answered, “If it can’t, you can leave.” Haishi’s face immediately flushed red.

The moment Yan Nianqing stepped inside, his eyes darted everywhere, curious about everything. “Daddy, what’s this? And that? How does it work?”

Hearing this, Black Obsidian suddenly remembered that these three were basically antiques. To prevent his little home from being wrecked, some education—and stern warnings—were in order.

And there was one more important thing. Black Obsidian turned to Yan Nianqing. “Little Nian’er, you can’t call me Daddy here. Call me big brother, or uncle at the very least.”

Yan Nianqing looked aggrieved. “Why?” He blinked, tears threatening to spill, but a sideways glance from Yan Luo scared the urge to cry right out of him.

Once Black Obsidian had taught them how to use the bathroom and some basic household items, he finally felt comfortable enough to return to his room and rest.

He slept soundly on his long-missed bed.

It was the rich aroma of food that woke him. Yawning, he made his way to the dining table—only to find Yan Luo cooking in the kitchen, which shocked him to his core.

Haishi was the last to get up, but his voice was the loudest. “Well, well! The great King Yan is actually cooking for us himself!”

Yan Luo brought over a small pot of porridge, ladled out a bowl for Black Obsidian, and one for himself.

Haishi, seeing he was being ignored, sheepishly rubbed his nose and sat down.

Black Obsidian let out a contented burp, slouched back in his chair with eyes half closed. “Since you can’t find Mirage with your usual methods, why not do as the locals do and try the simplest way?”

Haishi set down his bowl—clean as a whistle. “And what way is that?”

Black Obsidian snapped his fingers. “Easy. Put a notice in the newspaper, print missing person flyers—but first, you’ll need a photo of Mirage. Or, as you’d call it, a portrait.”

Haishi immediately pulled out a pile of portraits from his little pouch. “Is this enough?”

Black Obsidian was taken aback. Was this guy some kind of stalker?

No time to waste—he made a couple of phone calls and quickly arranged for the notices and flyers.

From morning till late at night, they were out searching, day after day, but found nothing. They expanded their search, asking not only people, but also those who weren’t quite human.

Another day, Haishi went to a new neighborhood, handing out flyers on the street under the blazing sun. Whether it was an illusion or not, his body seemed to be growing more transparent.

People bustled past as Haishi repeated the same line over and over, “Please, take a look. I’m trying to find this person. Please, just have a look.” When had he, Haishi, ever done something like this before?

He didn’t notice someone running straight at him until it was too late. He was knocked to the ground, his flyers scattered everywhere. Without hesitation, he scrambled to pick them up, paying no attention to the speeding car that had run the red light.

“Watch out!!”

At that shout, someone tackled Haishi to the ground. His vision went black, his head spinning. From nearby, he heard someone anxiously scolding, “Are you crazy? Are these pieces of paper really that important?!”

Haishi nodded in confusion. “Yes, very important—more important than I am.”

The stranger helped Haishi up, then reluctantly began gathering the scattered flyers. But when he caught sight of the face on the flyer, he was shocked. “You… you’re looking for me?”

Only then did Haishi look up at the man’s face—Mirage? Mirage!