"Xiao Wu? Xiao Wu!!"
The yellow-haired man leaned against the wall, hands on the ground, screaming in a shrill voice toward the receding funeral procession, calling for his dead friend.
Ji Li's madness waned for an instant, then was replaced by a feral grimness. His right hand clamped tightly over his severed left wrist.
Blood poured out, the severed edge jagged and caked with dirt.
He bit his teeth and ignored the yellow-haired man's cries. With one hand he opened his pack, poured a bottle of water over the wound, and roughly bound it with bandages.
The motion was rapid—he clearly wasn't a novice at severing a limb to survive.
*You—* The third persona in his mind could see and feel everything Ji Li was doing; it grew flustered.
*Don't care about that useless stuff! Any wounds from the mission will be fully healed the moment we return to the hotel. The key now is to find a way out before the next attack, or we'll all be meeting God!* The second persona shouted wildly.
Ji Li listened to the voices while rapidly processing the useful information at hand.
He had thought victory was assured in this second clash—using the two men, he'd planned to open the coffin without bloodshed. But plans changed faster than expected; the one who hadn't even moved became the first to be attacked.
Though he paid dearly—losing his hand—he also gained many clues.
He had witnessed the ghost's attack in person: the killer's method was to drag the living into the coffin and slaughter them there with an overwhelming force within moments.
But the method wasn't the most important part—the critical question was how he had involuntarily triggered the death-trap.
"Coffin…"
The word sprang to mind. Three victims. Everything traced back to that coffin. Liuzi and Ji Li had both been attacked after observing the coffin—even the lanky man's abrupt death.
Although under stress, Ji Li had heard the lanky man's final scream:
"Don't look at it!"
That *it* clearly meant the coffin. This was crucial intelligence. The three victims shared one thing in common: they had all stared at that coffin.
Ji Li reached that conclusion in almost a single breath.
The lanky man had mysteriously become a substitute during Ji Li's attack, but Ji Li could now reason what had happened. While Ji Li and the others were focused on the struggle, the idling lanky man must have been staring at the eerie coffin.
But simply looking at the coffin wouldn't by itself constitute the death-trap—because the yellow-haired man had also looked.
Then Ji Li recalled the dull sound when the coffin lid opened during each attack. Perhaps…
The lanky man had seen something inside the opened coffin, and by meeting its gaze, he had triggered the death-trap.
In other words—
The true death-trap was to look directly at something inside the coffin.
Ji Li exhaled. The pain from his severed hand still tormented his nerves, but his active mind brightened.
He pressed his back against the wall and stood, looking at the yellow-haired man on the ground, stunned and terrified.
"I need to confirm what inside the coffin causes the death-trap…"
"Dead… we're all dead…" the yellow-haired man moaned intermittently, the sound hollow and miserable in the silent alley.
Ji Li sighed and patted his shoulder; the man flinched—the yellow-haired man had become a shaken bird.
"Now it's just the two of us left. I'll ask you one question: do you want to live?"
Ji Li's voice carried a kind of magic. From his hoarse throat came a promise—the hope of survival.
The yellow-haired man's mouth twitched. He stared at the handsome yet cold-faced man before him, hesitated, then nodded.
Ji Li studied him closely and said softly, "Use your phone to add my WeChat. The number is—"
Though bewildered, the yellow-haired man obeyed without question and followed Ji Li's instructions.
From a distance, the funeral procession's muffled footsteps sounded again; the third round of confrontation was about to begin.
Ji Li showed no panic. With his bloodied right hand he quickly added the man and started a video call.
"The second plan I'm about to tell you will keep you alive."
He glanced at the white-clad figures drawing nearer and fixed his gaze on the closed coffin. "When the coffin approaches again, keep your eyes shut and don't look. Hold your phone at your chest, facing the coffin."
The yellow-haired man blinked, "Just like that?"
Ji Li nodded. "Just like that."
The previous attempt had failed, but it had also taught them something: whatever inside the coffin that produces the death-trap would rise up on its own.
If Ji Li turned his back on the coffin and began the video call with the yellow-haired man, he could watch the instant the coffin opened and see exactly what the living had looked at that caused them to die.
This was the best method to avoid the death-trap.
Closer… Closer…
The white-clad figures remained expressionless, their steps falling neatly into the prints ahead of them. At the rear, the coffin swayed heavily, its weight now greater with the lanky man inside.
The third clash between the living and the ghost began abruptly!
Ji Li had lost the first two encounters—this time, he refused to fail again.
Holding his phone against the wall, his eyes locked onto the video screen as the coffin slowly drew near.
The yellow-haired man trembled, his hands shaking so badly that the image blurred and wavered.
But none of that mattered. Ji Li was certain: once he discovered what lay within the coffin, he could find the path to survival.
The phone creaked in his grip. Salvation was only a breath away.
In the suffocating tension, the coffin arrived with a heavy thud. The yellow-haired man's trembling grew worse.
Under the dim glow of the streetlights, Ji Li heard the strange, familiar sound of the lid opening.
As expected—the ghost couldn't resist.
On the screen, a narrow gap appeared, filled with darkness and chill. Ji Li's eyes widened to the brink.
And then—he saw it. His gaze froze with unprecedented shock.
Inside the coffin, framed in black with a white background, was a mirror pane bordered by a black ribbon.
A portrait frame—but without a portrait. Just glass.
What horrified Ji Li most was this:
Within the once-empty glass, black lines suddenly raced across, sketching out a face.
The yellow-haired man's face.
Only in black and white, devoid of color—
As though he had become the subject of a funeral portrait. As though he were the rightful corpse inside the coffin.
Ji Li's scalp went numb. Only in this moment did he realize the terrible mistake he had made.
The coffin holds an empty frame. But the death-trap isn't in staring at it! The moment your face is reflected in that glass, it carves you into a portrait—and your death is certain!
Just then, a shrill scream burst from behind him—then cut off.
The yellow-haired man's fate was sealed.
But it didn't end there.
His glowing phone screen slipped from his dead hand and struck the ground.
By grim chance, the screen landed facing upward.
And Ji Li's pale, bloodless face, still connected by the video call, aligned perfectly with the mirror inside the coffin.