Volume One: First Steps on the Path Chapter Four: The First Glimpse of the Phantom Spirit

After leaving home and hailing a cab, Ye Junze told the driver, “Sir, please take me to 100 Tianci Street.”

The driver glanced at him curiously. “Young man, why are you heading there? Tianci Street has been a bit strange these past two years,” he remarked.

“It’s the first day of school, I’m going to register. But you say it’s strange—could you tell me why?” Ye Junze’s curiosity was piqued.

At Ye Junze’s question, the driver seemed eager to chat, his expression turning mysterious. “Let me tell you, Tianci Street really has been odd lately. People keep seeing flashes of white light from a particular shop there. But that’s not even the strangest part.” Pausing for effect, he continued, “Do you know what’s truly bizarre?”

Ye Junze, his interest now fully roused, urged him on, “What is it? Please don’t keep me in suspense.”

Leaning in, the driver said, “The strangest thing is, whenever those white flashes appear, people have seen individuals either coming out of the shop or entering and never coming back out.”

Ye Junze frowned, unconvinced. “That doesn’t sound so strange. After all, customers sometimes linger, or maybe people come out later.”

“Ah, but you’re mistaken,” the driver replied. “With so many people around, someone is always watching. And it’s not just that—the timing is uncanny. People only appear or disappear during those flashes. Isn’t that odd?”

Seeing Ye Junze still skeptical, the driver pressed on. “This all started just in the past two years. It’s truly peculiar. Plenty of non-believers have gone to observe the shop, but it appears completely ordinary—nothing unusual at all. Still, these rumors have drawn waves of thrill-seekers to Tianci Street, so business for us drivers has boomed. We love picking up fares there—more people means more work.”

He seemed unable to stop once he’d started. “And it’s not just Tianci Street; there’s been no shortage of strange news lately. People flying, others conjuring fire from thin air, someone encountering talking animals in the mountains—each story more fantastic than the last. Who knows what’s true or not? Ordinary folks like us just enjoy the stories. At my age, all I want is to live out my days in peace; the rest doesn’t matter much.”

Listening to the driver’s account, Ye Junze remembered seeing these reports himself. “Right, right, it’s just for entertainment. Who could take them seriously?” he agreed aloud, though inwardly he knew better. Perhaps these weren’t just stories spun by the media. After all, was he not one of those so-called “extraordinary” individuals? And wasn’t Anze Academy—where he was headed—another place shrouded in mystery?

Indeed, such news had become so common in recent years that people had grown numb, dismissing them as the media’s latest ploy for attention. Most, like the driver, watched with amused detachment.

But Ye Junze was certain: some unknown change was taking place in the world, and he felt instinctively that Anze Academy would hold the answers he sought.

As Ye Junze was lost in thought, the driver spoke again, as if eager to start a new conversation. “By the way, young man, there’s something I wanted to ask since you got in, but didn’t know if you’d mind.”

His words brought Ye Junze back to the present. “It’s fine, sir, ask whatever you want.”

“Well then, I won’t be shy. I noticed your head is full of white hair—are students under so much pressure these days that it’s turning their hair white?”

He added, “I have a daughter just starting middle school. Will she end up like you by the time she’s your age?”

Ye Junze realized the misunderstanding. “You’ve got it wrong, sir. It’s not from stress. I fell ill some time ago, and my hair turned white. Nothing’s helped, so I just let it grow out like this.”

The driver let out a sigh of relief. “Ah, so that’s it. Had me worried—almost made me question whether my daughter should keep going to school.”

“Don’t worry, sir. Just let her study at her own pace, but don’t push too hard, or she might end up like me,” Ye Junze joked lightly.

“You’re right, I know. She’s my daughter, after all—I’d never want to put her through that.” The driver added, “But young man, if there’s any hope at all, don’t give up. With modern science, I’m sure there’s a way to cure it.”

Ye Junze was touched. For someone he’d just met to care so much moved him. Smiling, he replied, “Thank you for your kind words. If I’m ever cured, you’ll deserve half the credit.”

The driver laughed awkwardly. “There’s no need for thanks. We’re all just trying to get by; a little encouragement goes a long way.”

“If everyone thought like you, the world would be a much better place,” Ye Junze remarked with a smile.

But he knew his own body well; unless something extraordinary happened, his hair would likely stay white for life. At first, he’d tried everything—dyeing it black, all sorts of remedies—but nothing worked. Eventually, he’d grown used to it. These days, he barely noticed, except when reminded by the contrast with those around him. Sometimes, he almost thought he’d been born this way.

He remembered when his hair first turned white. At school, everyone assumed he’d developed superpowers, like those in the news, and all clamored for him to demonstrate them. He’d spent days explaining, but when nothing unusual happened, his classmates lost interest. He remained the ever-studious Ye Junze, as always. Over time, he too accepted it.

But did he truly have special abilities? Perhaps. Yet how could he tell anyone about the endless space he possessed within himself? He understood all too well the wisdom of “the tallest tree in the forest is the first to be felled.”

Even his parents knew nothing; only two and a half people did—if Meng Yuan could be counted as a person. At this thought, Ye Junze couldn’t help but smile.

“I must remind you, as a spirit of the Grand Illusory Realm, I’m not technically a person. So it’s two people and one spirit,” intoned a familiar electronic voice in his mind.

Startled by the sudden voice in his head, Ye Junze let out a cry. “Ah!”

“Young man, are you alright?” the driver asked, clearly alarmed.

Regaining his composure, Ye Junze responded, “I’m fine. Please go on.”

“Alright then. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Foolish boy, if you want to talk to me, just think it in your mind,” the electronic voice said.

“Meng Yuan? How are you in my head? Did you do something to me while I was asleep?” Ye Junze tried communicating mentally.

“Remember your control progress from last night?” came the reply.

“Yes, it was at twenty percent. Why?”

“Precisely. Now that you’ve reached that level, I found I could communicate with you. When I tried, I somehow entered your consciousness. Now, whatever you think, I’ll know.”

“So you’re saying you’ll know everything I think from now on?”

“Don’t worry, I have to manage the Illusory Realm. I won’t be listening all the time. I’ll leave a portion of my consciousness with you. If you need me, just call my name in your mind and I’ll respond.”

“I see. Thank you,” Ye Junze said with a small smile, warmed by Meng Yuan’s concern.

“You’re welcome. It’s part of my duty,” came the reply.

The Illusory Realm, Meng Yuan, the old man—Ye Junze hoped he’d find answers to all his questions soon.

At that moment, the driver called out, “We’ve arrived at your destination, young man.”

Pulled from his thoughts, Ye Junze replied, “Thank you, sir.”

“Take care, and good luck at university!” the driver called after him.

After getting out, Ye Junze gazed at the place before him, thinking to himself, “Anze Academy, I’ve come.”