The moment Ethan crossed the threshold of the mansion, he felt as though he had stepped into an entirely different world.
The exterior of the palace had already been grand enough to shock him, but the interior took that sense of awe to a completely different level. Soft light illuminated the vast hall without the presence of torches, lamps, or any visible source of illumination. The glow was gentle, warm, and evenly spread, as though the light itself had been carefully measured and placed.
Every piece of furniture was flawless.
The chairs were carved from what looked like dark, ancient wood, their surfaces smooth and polished to perfection. Intricate patterns were engraved into their arms and backs, each line flowing naturally into the next, forming designs that felt alive rather than artificial. The tables were broad and sturdy, yet elegant, with no sharp edges anywhere, as if the designer had deliberately avoided anything that might disrupt the harmony of the space.
The carpets beneath Ethan's feet were thick and luxurious, dyed in deep shades of crimson and gold. The texture was soft, absorbing the sound of his footsteps almost entirely. Even the color of the carpet did not feel random—it perfectly complemented the walls, the ceiling, and the furniture, tying everything together into a single, cohesive whole.
Ethan slowly turned in place, his eyes scanning the hall from one end to the other.
Everything… was perfect.
Not a single object felt out of place. The distance between furniture pieces was precise, neither too cramped nor too spacious. The decorations on the walls—subtle carvings, faint murals, and elegant patterns—were arranged in perfect symmetry. Even the ceiling itself bore a complex design that drew the eye upward without overwhelming the senses.
For a brief moment, Ethan forgot that he was inside a dangerous inheritance ground.
"…This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath.
He scratched his head and let out a soft scoff.
"Did the Soul God do a Ph.D. in interior design or something?"
The thought came unbidden, and once it appeared, he could not suppress it.
"How can someone be this good at designing interiors?" Ethan continued thinking to himself. "This isn't just luxury. This is… art."
He had seen luxurious buildings back on Earth—five-star hotels, massive mansions owned by billionaires, palaces preserved as tourist attractions. But none of them gave him the same feeling as this place. Those places were expensive, flashy, and impressive, but they lacked something fundamental.
Harmony.
This mansion did not scream wealth. It did not try to intimidate or overwhelm its visitors. Instead, it felt calm, refined, and deliberate, as though every object existed for a reason.
Ethan shook his head slightly, pulling his thoughts back to reality.
"Focus," he reminded himself. "This isn't a sightseeing tour."
He took a few steps forward, his eyes continuing to roam around the vast hall. Soon, something else caught his attention.
A staircase.
It stood at the far end of the hall, wide and majestic, leading upward in a smooth, graceful curve. The steps were covered with a thick red carpet, identical in color and texture to the one beneath his feet. The railing on both sides was carved from the same dark wood as the furniture, adorned with delicate patterns that spiraled upward along the stairs.
At first glance, the staircase looked completely normal.
But when Ethan looked closer, he frowned.
"…Huh?"
He stopped walking and stared at the stairs more intently.
"There's something off."
He began counting the steps silently.
One.
Two.
Three.
…
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
…
Fifty.
Seventy.
Ninety.
…
One hundred.
Ethan blinked.
He counted again.
Carefully.
Slowly.
Meticulously.
The result was the same.
Exactly one hundred steps.
"That's… strange," he muttered.
In a normal building, one hundred steps would already take someone several floors up. Yet when Ethan looked upward, he could not see the first floor at all. The staircase simply continued upward, disappearing into a subtle distortion in the air, as though space itself bent at the end of the steps.
No matter how he angled his head or adjusted his position, he could not see what lay beyond the top.
"Let me guess," Ethan sighed internally. "Some kind of cultivation nonsense."
He rubbed his temples and let out a breath.
"The Soul God really had a few loose screws, didn't he?"
The thought slipped out naturally.
"I mean, seriously," Ethan continued thinking. "You're already dead. Is there really a need to build a mansion this big?"
He glanced around once more, his eyes sweeping across the vast interior.
"This place is huge. Ridiculously huge."
If the Soul God had built this mansion while he was still alive, that would be one thing. Perhaps he had wanted to enjoy his wealth, power, and taste during his lifetime. But from what Ethan understood, the Soul God had constructed this place knowing full well that his end was approaching.
"So what was the point?" Ethan wondered.
"Did he get bored while waiting to die?"
The question lingered in his mind.
Was this mansion meant to preserve memories? A final act of self-indulgence? Or perhaps… a test?
Ethan did not know.
And the more he thought about it, the more questions piled up with no answers in sight.
Eventually, he shook his head.
"Whatever," he muttered. "Dead gods and their hobbies aren't my problem."
He straightened his posture and forced his focus back to the matter at hand.
The Soul God's Inheritance.
That was the reason he was here.
Not interior design.
Not architecture.
Not philosophical debates about the mindset of dying gods.
He scanned the hall once more, searching for anything out of the ordinary—hidden doors, secret compartments, unusual markings, or strange fluctuations in energy.
But at first glance, there was nothing.
No treasure chests.
No glowing artifacts.
No floating manuals.
Nothing that screamed "inheritance."
Ethan frowned.
"…Too quiet."
He had learned his lesson the hard way earlier. Carelessness had almost cost him his life. The battle with the guardian monster was still fresh in his mind, and he had no intention of repeating the same mistake twice.
Back then, he had rushed forward without thinking, only to be dragged into a life-and-death battle he could have avoided if he had been more cautious.
Not this time.
Ethan stopped walking altogether.
Instead of moving toward the staircase immediately, he took a step back and carefully examined his surroundings again.
"There's no way a place like this doesn't have traps," he thought.
His knowledge of array formations was, frankly speaking, nonexistent. He had never studied arrays, formations, or seals. Even if one were placed directly in front of him, he would not be able to recognize it without assistance.
Fortunately, he was not completely helpless.
He still had the System.
And more importantly, he had an auxiliary skill he had rarely used so far.
A skill he had almost forgotten about.
"Heavenly Gaze," Ethan murmured.
The moment he activated it, his vision changed.
The world lost its colors.
Everything turned black and white, as though someone had drained all color from reality itself. However, this loss of color was quickly replaced by something far more important.
Red.
Bright red points and lines appeared before his eyes, scattered across the hall like a deadly web.
Ethan's pupils shrank.
"So many…!"
The red markings clustered densely near the staircase. Some were embedded in the floor, others hovered faintly in the air, and a few were hidden along the walls and pillars.
"These are… array traps."
Ethan swallowed.
If he had walked forward blindly, he would have stepped straight into this deadly network. Even with his current strength and the System's support, triggering multiple high-level array traps simultaneously would have almost certainly resulted in death.
"How crafty," Ethan cursed inwardly.
He could not help but feel a chill crawl up his spine.
The Soul God truly lived up to his reputation. Even after death, his arrangements were meticulous, ruthless, and unforgiving.
Ethan took a deep breath and steadied himself.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's do this properly."
With Heavenly Gaze still active and the System assisting him, Ethan began the careful process of deactivating the traps one by one.
The process was slow.
Painfully slow.
He had to identify each trap, understand its trigger point, and then follow the System's guidance to neutralize it safely. Some traps were interconnected, meaning that disabling one without accounting for the others could cause a chain reaction.
Sweat gradually formed on Ethan's forehead.
Minutes passed.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen minutes.
Twenty minutes.
Finally, after nearly twenty minutes of painstaking effort, the last red marking faded from his vision.
Ethan deactivated Heavenly Gaze and leaned against a nearby pillar, breathing heavily.
"…That was close."
He wiped the sweat from his brow and let out a shaky breath.
If he had been even a little careless, he would have died without ever reaching the first floor.
After resting for a short while, Ethan straightened and began checking the area again.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He activated Heavenly Gaze again, just to be sure.
Nothing.
No red markings.
No hidden traps.
Only then did Ethan finally allow himself to relax.
"Alright," he said softly. "Safe. For now."
His gaze returned to the staircase.
One hundred steps.
The number felt deliberate.
Suspicious.
In the cultivation world, numbers often carried meaning. Nothing was ever truly random, especially when it came to inheritances left behind by powerful beings.
"One hundred steps…" Ethan muttered. "There's definitely something going on here."
Still, before climbing up, he decided to search the ground floor one last time.
If the Soul God had left behind any auxiliary treasures, pills, or manuals, they might be hidden somewhere on this level.
He searched every corner.
Behind furniture.
Along the walls.
Under carpets.
Near pillars.
But no matter how thoroughly he searched, he found nothing.
Not a single item.
Ethan felt a flicker of disappointment, but he quickly suppressed it.
"Figures," he sighed. "Nothing's ever that easy."
With no other choice, he turned back toward the staircase.
Just as he was about to place his foot on the first step—
Rumble.
Ethan froze.
A low vibration traveled through the floor beneath his feet.
His heart skipped a beat.
"…What now?"
For a split second, he thought he had missed a trap.
His body tensed, his muscles coiling like a drawn bow, ready to react at the slightest sign of danger.
The vibration grew slightly stronger, though it was still far from violent. It felt less like an attack and more like… something awakening.
Then, right before his eyes, the ground in front of him shifted.
Stone rose slowly from the floor, forming a rectangular slab that emerged as though summoned by an unseen force.
Ethan stared at it warily, his guard fully raised.
After a few seconds, the stone stopped moving.
Silence returned to the hall.
Ethan cautiously stepped forward and examined the stone.
It was smooth, ancient, and clearly artificial.
And carved into its surface—
Were words.
Ethan leaned closer and squinted.
"…I can't read this."
The symbols were unfamiliar. The script was elegant and flowing, unlike any language he recognized.
With a sigh, Ethan straightened and spoke aloud.
"System. Translate whatever is written on this stone."
[Command Accepted]
[Identifying the language written on the stone…]
[Identification complete]
[Recognized as Aldon Language]
[Aldon Language is a common language in the Spirit World]
[It does not exist in the Mortal World]
[The User does not possess Aldon Language in the System Database]
[The User is recommended to purchase Aldon Language from the System Marketplace]
Ethan stared at the notification.
Then he sighed deeply.
"…Of course."
He rubbed his face and muttered bitterly, "You really are stingy, aren't you?"
Inside his heart, Ethan could not help but curse.
The System had done it again.
Forcing him to adjust his plans.
Forcing him to spend resources.
Forcing him deeper into debt.
And this—
He knew—
Was only the beginning.