Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 227 - 214 Amuwa and Revelation

```

After greeting a seemingly approachable senior, Lyle and Troy settled down at a relatively clean spot in the attic, where a transparent felt carpet lay on the floor. The stand with a pillow pushed itself out from the wall and stood not far from Lyle.

When Troy was placed upon it, a dent formed in the soft pillow and the radiance of the Soul Stone within grew muted. Troy’s crisp, childlike voice rose again.

"Ahem, the reason we snatched you from the hands of shock... um, is that I found you all to be exceptionally talented individuals. I’m a forbidden creation of Soulology and the control core of the Soul Tower. So, you don’t have to worry about your futures; my knowledge reserve definitely surpasses any of the Ghost Instructors here," Troy explained, establishing the selection of Lyle and the others based on their excellent qualities, but Lyle sensed he had other motives as well.

However, this did not impede Lyle’s dedication to his studies.

"Soulology is a mysterious and abstruse subject. For you newcomers, showing you the essence of the soul would be overly troublesome, so we start from the very basics."

"How to disturb or even harm the soul, so that when you encounter dangerous Spiritual Bodies outside, you won’t be at a loss."

"Weak Spiritual Bodies cannot touch material things, so their way of attacking is very straightforward: mental assaults, disrupting your thoughts and decision-making abilities, breeding your fear, and shaping soul’s agony. The most direct and simplest form of attack you’re likely to encounter is a scream. Perhaps ’Ghost Cry’ is an apt name."

"All Specters scream, provided they don’t suffer from a cognitive dissonance about making noise. Soul Scream is not merely physical noise; the scream carries the power of the soul, creating something else in the minds of living beings, typically unpleasant negative emotions like fear or madness."

"The harm that Soul Scream inflicts on you is limited because there’s hardly any emotion left in your bodies to arouse. But the pure force of the soul can still tear you apart. It’s like a person immune to toxins can still die from drinking too much water."

"There are no Spells or rituals for Soul Scream; it’s an instinct inherent to Ghosts. However, other creatures can also master this skill through prolonged exposure; the environment is one of the important factors that promote evolution. If it were any other Ghost Instructor, you’d already be undergoing the baptism of the Soul Scream. But I’m different; that would be too inefficient."

Troy’s Soul Stone emitted a glow, and in the nearby pile of clutter, a corner of a curtain lifted slightly, four freestanding wardrobes glided from the corner of the wall, facing the four individuals.

Lyle’s gaze swept over the edges of the wardrobe, which appeared as though they had been around for a century, with most of the redwood veneer fallen off. The center bore holes from ant bites, and at the bottom were traces of white mold that had once been present. An antique, indeed. As the doors of the wardrobes swung open, an odor of mold, sealed for a century, burst forth. The wardrobe facing Lyle contained two piece of torn and tattered cloth, utterly devoid of any value for preservation.

As Lyle contemplated removing the rags hanging on the racks, Troy spoke up.

"Be gentle with your predecessors, gentlemen; their remains have been preserved for so long that I’m not sure if they would crumble at a touch."

Remains of predecessors? These shredded pieces of clothing?

"These wardrobes were originally called Amuwa, something bound within a container. No one knows how they came to be; they existed when the first Ghost appeared. They can create an Illusionary Realm within their confines, indulging every notion of their prey, leading them to drown in it and turn into the clothes inside. I don’t know what other species might turn into, but Ghosts become akin to these flimsy pieces of fabric."

"Don’t worry, these four wardrobes have now become part of the Soul Tower; they won’t indulge your notions. Instead, they will draw out the fears in your hearts and instill that fear into a Specter’s Scream, echoing around you, in this enclosed space."

"This is the quickest way for you to learn the Soul Scream."

Lyle initially resisted the idea of entering the wardrobe. His will was strong, and even as Troy threw him into the wardrobe and shut the doors, his resolve did not falter.

```

Lyle, in the suffocating darkness, no longer resisted the force that bound him, for he could no longer feel Troy’s restraint, just as he couldn’t feel the wood of a wardrobe. The enclosed darkness seemed to expand, and Lyle did not feel the confinement of space, as if he was in an endless, bottomless dark.

After sighing in relief, Lyle stood up in the darkness, with the only support being the ground beneath his feet. Since it had already started, he could only face it calmly. The fear in his heart...

As if aware of the shift in Lyle’s thoughts, the surrounding darkness began to emit a faint glow. Lyle could barely make out his own face, and he found himself standing in a depression filled with mist. Within his line of sight, nothing rose higher than his knees, except for the occasional mound that did reach that height, and Lyle, feeling his legs again, did not hesitate to flatten the mound. It was like a soft cake, but the filling was a strange green slime that stuck to his boots.

Drifting curtains fluttered against his cheeks, and Lyle skillfully wiped his boots with the cloth.

It was not until the shiny green light had completely transferred from the sole of the boot to the fabric that Lyle breathed a sigh of relief.

"Didn’t expect this damp cloth to have such good absorbency," Lyle said, releasing his grip, only to see the cloth floating in the air. It did not fall with his release but instead drifted higher, carrying the patch of green light with it, soaring toward the sky.

Finally, Lyle knew what it was. That familiar touch, the perfect level of moisture, and the sliminess on the surface.

It was a tentacle. Tentacles with the color of the night sky, composed of a starry sky.

The ground shook as mountains and hills rose from it. The stars turned upside down, and the streak of green light, like a flying mark in the air, revealed the giant figure. With its turn, the enormous bony mask on its face was exposed, its central void also dark, but unlike the many starry tentacles on its body, it was an empty void.

The Harbinger Giant. It looked at Lyle.

A wave of fear rippled through Lyle’s heart; his feet slipped, and he fell into a puddle nearby.

It was not a puddle but a disguised abyssal sea, much deeper than Lyle had imagined. Lyle had no interest in the strangeness of his environment; his only thought was to get away from the giant bending down towards him.

Lyle dove into the depths of the sea, into the invisible darkness.

Lyle fled from the light and hid in the unknown waters. Irritating seaweed and fantastical creatures unknown to him began to appear around him, while corals and glowing plants twinkled from the seabed.

Finally, after clearing away the obstructive clumps of seaweed in front of him, Lyle looked ahead. He realized all his actions were meaningless. A sense of powerlessness pressed against his body as he floated in the water, like a frail and powerless infant.

In the coral clusters, underneath a shattered shipwreck overtaken by seaweed, another giant figure was slowly rising. Its movements stirred the seabed’s sand, causing all life to perish in the swirling currents. The tentacles on its body devoured the debris upon it, revealing the concealed bony mask.

Another Harbinger Giant.

Fear from below was awakening, while the fear from above was drawing closer.

Two withered hands stretched out, cupped together, and completely buried Lyle within them.