An old, decrepit radio was brought into the back hall by so unknown force, not even ten centiters away from the darkness behind it.
But even such a short distance was enough to prove that a certain horrifying supernatural phenonon had crossed the boundary and successfully invaded the back hall.
During the night watch, everyone believed that the spot in the back hall where the coffin was placed was the safest.
But now, that might not be true anymore.
From the radio ca a chilling voice: "You, you're in there, aren't you? Heh, hehehe..."
"You must all be in there… sshhh~!"
"Heh, hehehe, I'm coming to find you now."
The old radio kept spouting similar phrases, like a vengeful ghost whispering softly.
"Damn it."
Fan Xing let out a low roar, a sound akin to the dying breath of an enraged corpse. In that mont, even his appearance seed to change—ashen, dim, yet sinisterly horrifying.
It felt as if he had turned into a ghost himself at that mont.
As his roar echoed, the old radio suddenly cracked apart.
As if losing the supernatural power sustaining it, it shattered instantly into several pieces. But among the fragnts, there was only the shell of the radio. Inside, it was completely hollow—nothing but a few pieces of darkened soil. There were no electronic components at all.
By all logic, such a radio could only be a model, completely incapable of receiving any signals.
"You used supernatural power, didn't you? That roar was unique," Yang Jian glanced over.
It was the first ti he had witnessed Fan Xing's use of supernatural power.
After the roar, Fan Xing's ghastly expression quickly returned to normal.
"Did it work?" soone beside him asked in a low voice.
"I don't know, but I felt that if I didn't act, that cursed thing might really co for us. Cutting off the dium and breaking the curse first might have so effect. After all, even a ghost can be resisted. We're all ghost tars—there's no way we're entirely powerless," Fan Xing replied, as if reassuring himself as well as reminding the others.
"The approach isn't wrong."
Yang Jian also approved of Fan Xing's actions in his heart. If they continued letting the supernatural phenona occur, they would gradually fall into greater danger.
Acting now was the right decision.
However...
The calm didn't last long before another old radio slowly erged from the darkness. It set itself steadily on the ground, identical to the previous one—even its appearance hadn't changed.
"Sshhh..."
The familiar, eerie static returned.
And soon, the radio caught a signal, the static vanished, and the strange voice resurfaced: "You… won't survive the night… sshhh!"
Hearing this sentence, a cold sweat broke out on many people's foreheads. For a mont, they felt as if the ghost had marked them, and that the words were destined to beco reality.
"Did… did it not work?" Fan Xing's courage wavered in that instant.
His power couldn't sever the curse.
"Will I really die tonight?"
Yang Xiaohua's palms turned pale as she gripped the red balloon tightly, silently biting her lips.
Everyone felt trendous pressure, as if their hearts had slowed to a crawl.
"If it cos, let it co. I'm right here."
At that mont, it was Yang Jian who broke the oppressive atmosphere. Holding his splintered spear, he walked forward, casually picking up the radio from the ground and speaking directly into it.
After speaking, he tossed it away without hesitation.
The radio flew toward the main hall.
But just as the radio disappeared into the darkness, a fragnted voice erged once again: "You… are you human… or ghost? Sshhh!"
The voice cut off.
The radio disappeared into the shadows, but no sound of it hitting the ground followed. It was eerily silent.
Everyone stared into the darkness, equal parts shocked and terrified.
Bam!
Bam!
Bam!
Three loud bangs suddenly echoed through the back hall.
Everyone jumped, snapping out of their trance.
Yang Jian, holding the splintered spear, struck the ground forcefully and said coldly, "Don't hold on to any illusions tonight. Any ghost daring to invade here must be confronted imdiately. This is the last safe haven. If it's breached, we're all going to die here."
"When ghost tars band together, we've faced even S-class supernatural events without flinching. Even a cornered dog will bite—what are you afraid of?"
Caution doesn't an cowardice.
Yang Jian hadn't taken action earlier because the seventh day was still far away. It was better to conserve energy and avoid premature confrontation with the ghosts, saving strength for the most perilous days ahead.
But now... .
The ghost had marked them.
With no way out, the only option was to fight.
The Ghost Shadow behind Yang Jian flickered and stretched.
A dark shadow spread across the ground, extending along the corridor leading from the main hall to the back hall.
With his splintered spear in hand, Yang Jian took a few steps forward, standing firmly in the middle of the corridor.
"Night watch—it's not about guarding the coffin. It's about surviving the night, keeping ourselves alive against the ghost's assault. If you're scared, go slip out the back door. Maybe you've got a slim chance of escaping."
The others stared blankly at Yang Jian.
No one expected him to make this decision: to fight the ghost here instead of settling scores with the supernatural forces targeting them.
"Can just the few of us hold out through the night?" soone asked, their voice trembling slightly.
Anyone thinking rationally knew the truth.
Outside the old mansion, countless ghosts were wandering. No one dared guess their numbers.
What about ghost tars?
Their powers would burn out after just a few uses, leading to their untily deaths. They were already in poor shape after disembarking from the supernatural bus.
"Do you have another choice?" Yang Jian cast a chilling glance at them.
"He's right—we don't have a choice. Everyone, prepare to risk everything." Fan Xing took a deep breath, putting aside fragnted thoughts to step forward. He chose to fight.
With Ghost Eye Yang Jian willing to risk everything, they had no option to back down.
If Yang Jian fell—a Captain Level ghost tar succumbing to his powers' resurrection—the last refuge would be overrun by the ghost.
"If that's the case, let's fight." The ghost tar previously cursed by the radio spoke in a low voice.
A few ssengers exchanged silent looks, then walked forward without another word.
The group divided into two sides, each watching a corridor vigilantly.
If a ghost dared enter, they would attack without hesitation.
Even if it ant being drained to death, retreat was not an option.
It's here!
A quickened set of footsteps suddenly shifted direction, sprinting towards them.
The radio's static still echoed from the darkness ahead, carrying a faint, chilling phrase: They're over there...
The ghost...
It seed to be baiting other ghosts closer.
Footsteps rapidly approached.
The darkness crept further into the back hall. The two incense sticks burning before the coffin glowed faintly, their fragrance thickening in the air.
The next mont...
A pale, ghastly leg suddenly erged from the darkness.
Wet and dripping, it stretched out from the shadows, streaked with dirt and weeds, as if dredged from a well or pond.
The ghost...
It had crossed the boundary completely.
"Bang!"
At that instant, Old Eagle fired. His antiquated firearm let out a dull shot.
The pale leg tore open, as a fragnt of human bone, used as a bullet, hit it with precision.
The ghost staggered back. The pale leg swiftly retreated, while the sound of footsteps faded into the distance.
It seed the ghost was withdrawing, disappearing once again.
"Did we drive it back?" Old Eagle was montarily stunned.
He was surprised.
After all, his gun was weak, only able to temporarily repel ghosts rather than force them away entirely.
But what had just happened suggested the ghost had been gravely wounded and had no choice but to retreat.
The others didn't understand the situation and looked at Old Eagle in amazent.
"It's not that Old Eagle is so powerful; it's this place… there's sothing unique about it..." Yang Jian observed the two incense sticks and the bright red coffin closely.
The factor influencing this situation wasn't the incense—it was likely the coffin.
"It's the incense," he muttered.
He noticed one of the incense sticks had burned down slightly, a small clump of ash falling to the ground.
A supernatural force seed to have dissipated slightly.
"Could it be that fighting here lets us draw on the supernatural power of the incense?" Yang Jian speculated.
But now wasn't the ti for guesses.
The darkness continued to encroach.
Suddenly...
Yang Jian felt the Ghost Shadow make contact with sothing.
A dium had ford.
It was a hazy figure wandering in the dark—not fully ford, but distorted, warped, and creepily eerie.
"Looking for death," Yang Jian muttered.
Without hesitation, he swung the Firewood Knife down at the dium.
The knife struck.
A piercing scream ripped through the darkness of the main hall, like the final wail of a dying person.
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