The sight of those myriad lights, however, lacked the brilliance and bustle of a thriving city, instead exuding an atmosphere of strangeness and silence.

I gazed silently as the lights began to flicker on, yet my heart grew colder, for André had once warned me that these were the machinations of the Nühai residing on the island.

Moreover, the illumination signified the arrival of night. This ruined island was already steeped in strangeness during the day; who knew what more bizarre occurrences might unfold after dark.

After observing for a while from the wall, the lights had gradually spread down from the mountaintop.

I watched as the streets outside the Colosseum slowly began to brighten, a scene profoundly odd.

This was because many of the lights ignited in mid-air, resembling Will-o'-the-wisps.

Looking closer, those bright points generally appeared just above collapsed braziers or street lamps—meaning the lights were manifesting precisely where those fixtures once burned in years past.

I immediately understood: this was a recording, etched by an anomalous magnetic field, of scenes from a thousand years ago.

As the lights came on, the street sprang into illumination, and the sky deepened into twilight.

I saw no Nühai moving through the thoroughfare, but as the lights appeared, faint, dark shadows manifested along the street.

I knew these shadows were echoes of past human activity—perhaps a single day from a millennium ago, or possibly several days' worth of movements superimposed.

Since I couldn't see clearly from the perimeter wall, I decided to descend for a better look, realizing this held significant importance for investigating the ancient city.

But just as I prepared to jump down from the wall, I noticed three or four dark shapes shifting softly in the wall's shadow near the base.

Assuming they were mere phantoms of past residents, I paid them no mind and jumped down from the wall.

Yet, the moment my feet touched the ground, those three or four shadows vanished instantly.

I looked around curiously; nothing was visible, but several muddy footprints had appeared on the ground.

I stroked my chin and murmured to myself, "It seems more than one thing leaves traces behind."

Fearing the sudden reappearance of those shadows, I turned my flashlight to its brightest setting and gripped the Silver Fish Dagger tightly, moving slowly forward.

Although the mist persisted, based on my earlier assessment, I knew the Colosseum had four entrances.

If I followed the walkway to my left for less than a hundred meters, I could reach the nearest exit, which surely connected to the main thoroughfare outside.

So, I felt my way along toward that point, but after only a few steps, I saw three dark figures approaching me in formation from ahead.

They were moving quickly, and it appeared they were carrying weapons.

I stood motionless for a few seconds, and the three silhouettes gradually materialized from the mist.

They were three guards wearing heavy helmets; their silver armor gleamed, adorned with patterns like fish scales, and they carried long, spiked spears, marching towards me in step.

Seeing the style of their helmets instantly reminded me of the stone statues I had seen on the coast—the designs were almost identical.

The only difference was that these three guards lacked fish tails. Instead, on the back of their armor hung a silver, fish-scale patterned cloak, at the center of which was an oval totem embroidered with black thread.

I recognized the totem immediately as that of the Candle God because the precise oval contained a black dot on each side.

I had not expected that the ancient Kingdom of Derban would use the Candle God as its totem. This suggested that the Candle God's origins were far more ancient than we had imagined.

The three guards did not slow their pace; they could not see me, and certainly could not see me.

Because, just like the warriors and beasts I had seen earlier, they were nothing more than apparitions.

The beam of my flashlight passed directly through their chests, causing these phantoms to appear both real and ethereal.

Though I knew they were illusions, seeing them advance directly toward me, I instinctively sidestepped to avoid a collision.

The three soldiers passed by me without turning their heads, their armor emitting the faint clinking sound of metal striking metal.

Watching their retreating forms, I thought that anyone else might genuinely believe they had encountered true specters.

Truthfully, I felt a slight unease myself, as this was the first time I had witnessed such a realistic re-enactment of phantoms.

And whether it was bad luck or good fortune, I had encountered such a large-scale illusion on my very first attempt.

I hypothesized that the cause of this phenomenon might be the abundance of magnetic materials, like silica, within the architectural stone.

But I couldn't dwell on that now, as Da Xiong and the others were still completely missing.

So, I resumed my walk toward the Colosseum exit.

Soon, I found the half-collapsed exit before me. I surveyed it; a person could still pass through.

Then, I glanced back at the bizarre, inverted pot-lid-shaped object in the center of the plaza below, sighed regretfully, and headed toward the exit.

Stepping over the mound of collapsed rubble, I saw several dark shapes moving in the shadow of the opening. These aimless shadows were likely the vagrants from a thousand years ago who couldn't afford admission to the Colosseum, yet their idle wanderings had been recorded. Now, it looked incredibly eerie.

Exiting through this aperture, I indeed found myself on the main street, which was brightly lit, teeming with shadowy figures moving back and forth.

However, I noticed that the clarity of the shadows varied—some were sharp, others blurry. Some made sounds as they moved, while others were silent.

This difference, I surmised, must be due to the varying energy levels released during the moment of recording.

It was this disparity that made some illusions look like real people, while others resembled transparent ghosts.

It was the same principle as a videotape: when a tape ages or suffers water damage, the images become blurred.

I walked further down the street. People passed by on both sides, creating a lively atmosphere, and occasionally carriages rolled past.

In the better-preserved buildings along the street, I could see light shining from within, and figures moving inside.

There were taverns, martial arts schools, acrobatic halls, street performers, and even brothels.

Just by closely observing the faces of these people, I noted many East Asian features, but with higher nose bridges and deeper eye sockets; quite a few were strikingly handsome.

For clothing, some wore homespun linen, others silk; leather and fur garments were also common.

"These are my ancestors..." I murmured silently.

Seeing such a vibrant scene yet being unable to exchange a single greeting with any of them was a profoundly agonizing feeling.

The city of Derban was truly prosperous. I saw Eastern porcelain and tea, medicinal herbs from Persia, and even knives and bamboo crafts from Japan.

Every relatively intact house displayed different goods for sale, while the collapsed structures were pitch black inside.

This was likely because as the buildings crumbled, the magnetic stones forming the images also ceased to function.

Walking forward for over ten minutes, I was deeply impressed by the splendor of Derban City.

Thinking of how this magnificence had now turned to smoke and mirrors brought on an inexplicable sense of loss.

Rumble-rumble—a flash of lightning split the sky, followed by a downpour splashing onto the street.

People began to scatter in a panic, seeking shelter, while I stood in the middle of the street with my arms spread wide, lost in thought.

Because this rain, too, was merely an illusion. Even though I could see raindrops delicately falling before me, I remained completely dry.

This sensation was truly marvelous; I had never imagined in my life that I would encounter something so bizarre.

After enduring the so-called rain for a while, I continued moving forward.

My direction remained fixed on the lighthouse in the city center, which now emitted a faint blue glow.

If I went to the Royal City Center beneath the lighthouse now, I would surely witness the living scenes of the nation's dignitaries from that era. Perhaps I could even encounter someone reading in the library, allowing me to discover the contents of those now-corroded texts.

I quickened my pace, turned down a narrow alley, and arrived at an intersection.

This intersection was merely the meeting point of two narrow, winding lanes, but out of the four shops situated at the crossing, only one showed light.

I peered inside; it was a small silverware shop, its doors wide open. Behind a long counter sat an elderly woman with deep brown hair, staring blankly out into the street.

Evidently, this location hadn't been commercially prosperous in the past, hence the utter desolation.

I glanced at the old woman, and the direction she was looking was precisely where I stood.

This gave me the illusion that she was looking directly at me.

Noticing the peculiar quality of her gaze made me uncomfortable, so I continued walking forward.

But at that moment, I thought I saw the old woman’s eyes shift as I moved.

This startled me considerably, and I immediately stopped again to look back into the shop.

At that instant, the old woman seemed to deliberately avoid my gaze and looked to the side.

A chill ran down my spine. Could this phantom truly see me? That would be extraordinary!

I took a moment to regain my composure. When I confirmed the old woman was no longer looking at me, I prepared to step forward again.

But this time, I paid careful attention: just as I began to walk, the old woman looked over once more.

I grew agitated and quickly shone my flashlight directly at her.

The beam passed straight through her body—clearly, this was just an illusion.

Relief washed over me. I paused to think carefully: perhaps because someone walking at a similar pace was nearby, it had created this illusion.

So, I illuminated the surroundings and indeed found a dark shadow standing not far from me, almost shoulder-to-shoulder.

It too was stationary on the street edge, staring askance into the shop at the old woman.