Yang Jian, through stealing the lingering mory of a dead person, roughly understood the horror behind the red wooden bench appearing in the building.
At this mont, he voluntarily sat on the red wooden bench, using a certain dium to approach the ghost haunting the bench.
The ghost on the bench doesn't actually exist—or at least cannot be seen by ordinary people. Even Yang Jian's Ghost Eye cannot see it. It's a terrifying entity that cannot manifest in the real world and can only appear through the linkage with the red wooden bench.
But the mont the ghost appeared.
Yang Jian already felt sothing was wrong.
His lower half instantly lost sensation, as if turned to wood, pinned to the bench and utterly immobile—incapable of struggling, incapable of moving.
This suppression was not limited to his living body; even the Ghost Shadow within him was similarly immobilized.
The Ghost Shadow couldn't move either.
"This sensation is like being nailed down by a Coffin Nail. But while the Coffin Nail suppresses the ghost entirely, this only paralyzes half of my body." Sitting on the red wooden bench, Yang Jian couldn't help but take a deep breath.
Though his body couldn't break free, his upper half could still move.
The situation wasn't all bad.
But now wasn't the ti to dwell on such matters.
The ghost on the bench sat right next to Yang Jian.
The terrifying figure of the ghost was almost leaning beside him, enveloped in chilling, dreadful cold—entirely devoid of human warmth. Its outdated attire radiated a sense of antiquity, but such clothing, while acceptable on a person, appeared profoundly eerie when worn by a ghost.
The most inexplicable detail was that the ghost's feet were curled up and did not touch the ground, seemingly fused with the red wooden bench, skeletal and rigid.
Yang Jian observed this horrifying ghost at close range.
The ghost remained motionless on the red wooden bench, like a corpse that had been left there for ages—lifeless and still.
But this unsettling stasis didn't persist for long.
Perhaps sitting on the bench had attracted the ghost's attention, or perhaps it had triggered the ghost's killing pattern.
The ghost on the bench began to move at that mont.
The ghost slowly turned its head to look at Yang Jian.
What kind of face was that?
Blurry and indistinct, as if shrouded in shadow, the only visible features were the black outlines of its eyes. The indistinct facial features paired with those hollow eye sockets created a sight that made one's hair stand on end and sent a chill deep into the heart.
Faced with such a scene, the instinct of being human drives one to struggle to stand, to flee in terror.
But that wasn't possible.
Even after being targeted by the ghost, sitting side by side with it on the sa wooden bench rendered escape impossible.
Yang Jian's lower body remained numb, unable to stand, let alone pull away and escape.
"This ghost is going to attack now."
Suddenly.
A primal warning—a sense of impending danger surged forth.
Even Yang Jian, as he was now, could feel the chilling terror of being targeted by the ghost—the quivering dread running through his veins.
The premonition was accurate.
Sitting on the red wooden bench, its face blurred and eyes hollow, the ghost stared at Yang Jian for several seconds before moving again.
The ghost's dry, skeletal hand rested on the bench and began to slowly rise.
"Make a move."
But at that very mont, Yang Jian acted faster. He thrust the cracked, golden long spear clutched in his hand forward—the end of the spear embedded with a Coffin Nail.
He aid to pin the ghost before him with the Coffin Nail.
Just one strike would resolve this supernatural attack completely.
"Bang!"
The next instant.
A loud crash echoed.
The Coffin Nail on Yang Jian's spear pierced through the ghost on the bench's body and embedded itself in the wall of the nearby corridor.
The tiles on the wall shattered, leaving a visible mark.
But the ghost remained sitting there.
The Coffin Nail couldn't hit the ghost, passing through it as though it were air—thus, the attempted suppression failed.
Soon after.
Yang Jian felt the ghost's icy touch as its hand grazed the back of his own. An invasive chill crept beneath his skin.
Before he could react, the red wooden bench beneath him suddenly cracked and splintered.
The eerie red bench seed to collapse, splintering into pieces and scattering on the ground like broken chunks of worn wood.
"Thud!"
The abrupt change sent Yang Jian sprawling to the floor.
Simultaneously, the oppressive force exerted by the red bench dissipated.
Yang Jian's lower body regained sensation and was able to move once more.
"What just happened, did it work?" Feng Quan, who was standing guard at the corridor entrance, imdiately asked upon seeing this scene.
Yang Jian's face darkened. He stood up, his eyes reflecting confusion as he glanced at the splintered bench on the floor. "I'm not sure. After I sat on the bench, the ghost appeared and attacked . I tried suppressing it but failed. What I can't figure out is why the bench suddenly broke."
"It seems that after the ghost attacked , the bench shattered as well."
"Yang Jian, your nose…" Feng Quan suddenly said.
My nose?
Yang Jian touched his nose. Thick, sticky blood was flowing from it—no longer fresh, slightly congealed, resembling the blood of a corpse.
His expression shifted.
Rolling up his sleeves.
Yang Jian spotted corpse-like spots on his arm alongside uncanny bruising. He touched his chest—his heart was ice-cold, and his heartbeat had long ceased.
"It seems I'm already dead, devoid of vital signs—I must've been killed by the ghost monts ago."
Feng Quan froze for a mont, then said, "Could this ghost erase the life force of living people? Maybe because we're ghost-wielders, we weren't fully killed."
"Possibly. The contact was too brief; I didn't glean much information," Yang Jian replied, simultaneously inspecting his body.
From the mont he sat down to when the bench shattered and sent him to the ground, the entire process took less than a minute.
But within that minute, Yang Jian's body looked as though it'd been lifeless for ten days.
All signs of a living person had disappeared.
Had Yang Jian not been a supernatural being himself, the ghost on the wooden bench would've assuredly killed him.
"Though in killing , the ghost seems to have paid a price as well. The broken bench should be the result of clashing supernatural forces. But no matter what, the ghost associated with the bench is still more vicious."
Yang Jian's body couldn't withstand the ghost's attack.
Though his body had died, his consciousness remained intact, so the impact wasn't as severe.
"Follow ."
Yang Jian didn't say much, swiftly leaving the corridor to the office area outside.
At this mont.
Dozens of employees on this floor sat frozen at their desks, afraid to move or wander—the scene remaining tightly controlled.
Yang Jian scanned the room.
His gaze ultimately rested on the doorway.
From behind the glass door.
A strange, long red wooden bench remained stationary, placed at the entrance.
In the dimly lit environnt, the red paint coating the bench glead eerily, almost faintly emitting a glow.
"Of course, the ghost is still there. The red bench is rely the dium—the true ghost is the source. If the source isn't contained, then diums crafted by supernatural forces will continuously exist and cannot be destroyed."
"We don't yet know the extent of the red bench's appearance. If it's confined to this building, we might be able to manage it. But if it's already spread outside, the situation becos complicated."
"So we must think of a way to access the ghost directly."
Yang Jian began considering his next move.
This was an unusual supernatural case.
The ghost manifested through the red bench, aning connecting humans and the ghost required the bench as a dium.
Anything not touching the dium couldn't co into contact with the ghost.
Such circumstances reminded Yang Jian of the Ghost Dream he encountered back in his hotown.
The dream ghost invaded reality through rainwater as its dium.
Thus, the dream ghost could kill people soaked in rainwater. Coincidentally, people sweating profusely during nightmares also aligned with the dium's pattern.
This explained occurrences of death within nightmares.
"Neither the Coffin Nail nor the Firewood Knife can use the bench as a dium to interact with the source ghost." Yang Jian grasped why his supernatural items had been ineffective.
"To reach the ghost on the bench, the contact must be human… or another ghost."
"Clearly, this supernatural event isn't easily solvable."
After pondering for a while longer, Yang Jian began to sense the difficulty of the situation.
For ghost-wielders triggering the dium, enduring the ghost's attack was impossible. Without endurance, sitting on the red bench was tantamount to suicide.
Yang Jian had personally tested it—the ghost's Terror Level was extrely high.
"Is this a huge problem?"
Feng Quan glanced at the distant red bench and asked in a heavy tone. "Should we shelve it for now? While dangerous, the ghost doesn't seem overly active. As long as nobody sits on the bench, there shouldn't be any issues."
"That ghost is extrely well-hidden and highly dangerous. It's indeed a tough problem. Start a file for it—codena: Red Bench." Yang Jian's gaze flickered, a unique plan forming in his mind.
"Alright." Feng Quan nodded.
Just then, the company manager for this floor cautiously approached, saying, "Excuse , gentlen, our office hours have concluded. If there's nothing urgent, might we be allowed to clock out and leave?"
Glancing at the ti.
It was, indeed, quite late.
Yang Jian glanced at the man.
The manager flinched, hastily correcting himself, "Of course, we're more than happy to cooperate. If necessary, we'd gladly work overti."
"Leave in the morning. Tonight, you'd best stay here." Yang Jian coldly stated, "I'll only say this once—don't bla for not warning you if sothing happens."
It wasn't simply about forbidding them from leaving—there were many incidents yet to unfold tonight.
Moreover, the building had already been breached by supernatural forces.
A group of ordinary people hoping to leave safely after hours?
Yang Jian might agree, but the ghost wouldn't.
"Also, stay away from that red bench. As for the corpses, they'll be handled tomorrow." After delivering his warning, Yang Jian turned and left.
The manager stood there, stunned.
Did this qualify as an investigation?
Nothing seed to have been resolved—only odd behavior and cryptic remarks.
Puzzled, confused.
But he didn't dare ask further; after all, both n were ard and carried credentials.
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