[The night my blood-red eye opened, every ghost in the funeral home trembled in the palm of my hand!] Yang Xuan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and stared at his crimson right eye in the mirror. His Yin-Yang Eyes let him see through the underworld, but the price was his life.
When Zhao Shiyao barged into his life clutching an ancient book, a fierce ghost was tearing at his soul, and the cinnabar talisman on the girl's fingertip burned his back. "Want to live?" She bit her fingertip and pressed it to the space between Yang Xuan's brows. "From today on, your life is in my hands." From deep inside the morgue came the sound of chains snapping. The Red-Clad Ghost, unseen for five hundred years, was drawing closer, leaving bloody footprints in its wake.
Dare you join me in fighting my way to the throne of the supernatural world?
