Translator: CinderTL
The moment Jiang Cheng saw the hole, he knew Zhao Xingguo was dead.
But Zhao Xingguo, in his current state, clearly had no time to consider Jiang Cheng's thoughts. In the auditorium where he was, there was no sign of Jiang Cheng or Fu Fu either.
Two groups of people were in the same place, yet couldn't see each other. The Abnormality of this situation was beyond words.
It would be a lie to say he didn't regret it, but now that things had come to this, there was no point in dwelling on it. All he could do now was use every means at his disposal to survive.
In this life-or-death moment, Zhao Xingguo forced himself to calm down. His gaze slowly swept across the surroundings. The Ghost was very close, right beside him. He could even feel its venomous aura.
Tap, tap, tap
Zhao Xingguo immediately turned his head in one direction. "Who's there? Who's there?!"
A light, playful sound echoed from the darkness, as if someone had just run past. Judging by the sound, it sounded like a child.
A child...
Zhao Xingguo's expression stiffened. He suddenly remembered something that had happened the night before. They had planned to search Crippled Liu's residence, but had been trapped in a Ghost wall along the way.
The Ghost left behind a trail of tiny footprints.
And the handprint on the back of the Boss's neck didn't look large either. It was pitch black, as if it had been pressed deep into the flesh.
Their earlier speculation had been correct: this Ghost was likely a child.
At least its physical form was.
The atmosphere in the vicinity grew increasingly eerie. Though no light seemed to penetrate the room, a faint, ethereal glow enveloped the space.
It felt hazy, as if filtered through a thin mist.
Slap.
Just as Zhao Xingguo held his breath, a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, making him jump in surprise. "Who the hell slapped me?!"
But when he turned around, there was nothing there.
The mental torment had reddened his eyes. Blood surged to his head, and he panted heavily, constantly shifting his gaze to pinpoint the Ghost's location.
Giggle.
Tap-tap-tap
Giggle.
Tap-tap-tap
Rapid footsteps echoed through the darkness. Whenever he followed the sound, he could only hear the Ghost's lighthearted laughter, as if it were playing hide-and-seek.
After hearing the laughter for too long, it took on a different quality. It felt like countless needles were stabbing through Zhao Xingguo's head, and his consciousness grew increasingly hazy.
The laughter was eroding his sanity.
In a daze, he felt an itch on his shoulder. His hand moved involuntarily to scratch it, but the more he scratched, the itchier it became, especially at the spot where he had been patted earlier.
Something seemed to be moving beneath his skin, slowly wriggling just beneath the surface as if trying to break free.
This discovery jolted him awake. A wave of intense revulsion surged from the depths of his heart. He had never hated his own body so much.
His expression twisted into a grimace. His grip tightened, and he even considered tearing open his skin to pull out the wriggling thing inside.
He wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp it into a bloody pulp.
Finally, with a sharp "rip" as his skin tore, he achieved his wish. He stared at the large chunk of skin in his hand—the piece he had just ripped from his shoulder.
But strangely, it was completely devoid of flesh and blood, not even a single drop of blood.
He felt no pain. Instead, deep within his heart, he felt an exquisite pleasure, as if he wanted to tear off his entire skin.
"Itches!" he writhed in agony. "It itches so much!"
The sensation was like trying to squeeze his entire body out through the gaping wounds. Zhao Xingguo's remaining sanity dwindled, becoming increasingly thin and fragile.
On the brink of death, he faintly heard a voice calling out.
"Zhao Xingguo."
The voice was soft, and Zhao Xingguo instinctively trusted it. He took stiff steps, walking towards the source of the sound.
Strangely, the voice seemed to come from all directions. Just as Zhao Xingguo was about to stop and confirm the direction, the call would sound again, right on cue.
"Zhao Xingguo."
"Zhao Xingguo."
"Zhao Xingguo."
Finally, Zhao Xingguo reached a wall and stopped. The voice was coming from there.
Before him lay a small mountain of ghost money and paper ingots. In the corner stood several paper figures and paper horses draped with white banners.
Suddenly, a breeze stirred within the sealed space for the first time. The thin ghost money fluttered into the air, swirling like snowflakes, while the paper figures and horses swayed and toppled.
But one paper figure remained standing.
It had stood motionless throughout, only revealed after the two paper figures in front of it were blown down.
Wearing a green melon-skin hat and a bright red paper outfit, its pale face was framed by exaggerated, roughly drawn eyebrows. Beneath them, bloodshot eyes stared wide and unblinking.
This was a living person!
No, it should be said that this had been a living person. Now, it was a cold corpse, dressed up to resemble a paper figure.
It was the young man who had brought them here!
Zhao Xingguo had never expected him to be abandoned in this place.
Judging by his current wretched state, he had clearly been dead for some time.
In the next instant, the long-deceased man suddenly raised his head. His stiff face twitched, his eyes narrowed at the corners, and his mouth mechanically opened, revealing the eerie grin Zhao Xingguo knew all too well.
His throat convulsed a few times, followed by a jarring sound that emerged from deep within his throat: "Zhao Xingguo."
As the name left his lips, the itching on Zhao Xingguo's shoulder intensified. A rustling sound emanated from the area.
Through the wound, he could see that what was wriggling inside wasn't flesh and blood, but clumps of dry straw.
More and more straw pierced through Zhao Xingguo's body from various points, turning him into a hedgehog bristling with thorns. Yet he stubbornly continued forward, taking stiff, halting steps.
In his final moment, he suddenly thrust his hand into the young man's mouth. Then, as if touching something, Zhao Xingguo's previously unfocused eyes snapped into sharp focus.
His hand seemed to have entered another dimension, with most of his arm disappearing into the young man's mouth—something that defied any rational explanation.
When he slowly pulled his entire arm out, a roughly made straw doll materialized in his right hand. Zhao Xingguo gripped the doll's neck tightly, as if it were a toy. The doll, with its docile appearance, remained motionless.
"Finally... I've caught you!"
(End of the Chapter)
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