Cold, silent warehouse, ice coffins laid out next to Zhao Kaiming.
He had been sitting here for a full three hours now.
Unmoving, like a wooden carving.
The hope in his heart had been gradually extinguished as these three hours passed.
The time agreed upon with the ghost had far exceeded its limit.
During this period, there was not a single sign of Resurrection within the ice coffins where the bodies of his deceased relatives lay; those who had died remained dead, and the only person alive was himself.
As for the ghost that followed him, even now, he couldn't define its existence.
Zhao Kaiming only knew that every time he asked the ghost to do something, someone close to him would die, yet he would remain unharmed.
This was the price paid for utilizing the power of the ghost.
At first, he hadn't realized this. By the time he did, it was already too late. His wife, daughter, parents, relatives... everyone had been killed by the ghost because of him.
