The ancient mansion enshrouded in darkness.
In order to reverse the despairing situation, Yang Jian gave up on the plan to hold out in the rear hall. Alone, he charged into the main hall, Ghost Eye activated, gripping the Firewood Knife, and triggered the dium to locate the ominous ghost's silhouette before decisively cutting off the diums without hesitation.
Once a dium is severed, the ominous ghost in the unknown location will be dismbered as well.
Moreover, the dismbered ghost would be suppressed for a period of ti, rendering it incapable of movent.
Three tis.
In less than ten seconds, Yang Jian wielded the Firewood Knife three tis.
The first ti, he severed the diums of four ominous ghosts. The second, three. For the final cut, just one dium—but this ti, Yang Jian had chosen deliberately because this ghost was the source of the Ghost Domain. To eliminate the danger, this ghost had to be dismbered again; otherwise, everyone in the rear hall would perish.
But the price of such indiscriminate action was steep.
After using the Firewood Knife twice, Yang Jian had to use a restart once; otherwise, his disintegrating body wouldn't have been able to hold up long enough for him to make the third swing.
"It's done."
Only after Yang Jian slashed the twisted, blurry figure of the ominous ghost from top to bottom, severing it fully in two, did a faint sense of relief pass through his mind.
The darkness in the main hall began to split open, as though he had cleaved it apart.
And the spreading darkness was retreating to the sides.
Clearly, after the Firewood Knife dismbered the ghost, the ghost fragnted into "puzzle pieces," and the supernatural power carried by these pieces could no longer affect the entirety of the ancient mansion, causing the Ghost Domain to dissipate—just like it had before.
But this was only temporary.
At most, after a few hours, the fragnted ghost would recover, and the Ghost Domain would once again engulf the mansion.
Therefore.
The Firewood Knife's strikes were rely ant to buy ti and delay.
A crimson crack appeared on Yang Jian's forehead, extending downward as though it were dividing his entire body into two halves, even slicing into the Ghost Shadow beneath his feet, where it also bore an irreparable fissure.
"Dismbering this ghost just once isn't enough. It has to be fragnted to an even greater degree to permanently stop it from reviving after several hours."
Yang Jian ignored the erupting curse from the Firewood Knife on his body.
After restarting, he had only dismbered the ghost once.
At this level, Yang Jian could still handle it.
Now, his gaze quickly swept around.
Under the coverage of the Ghost Shadow, countless eerie, terrifying ghost figures appeared around him—each grotesque and distinct.
Yang Jian urgently searched for the dium of the ghost he had just faced.
Soon.
He found it again.
The twisted, blurry silhouette of the ominous ghost reappeared not far away.
He strode forward. Though his body was splitting apart, he paid it no heed, ignoring the diums of the other ghosts along the way.
Now.
His sole objective was to dismber that ghost a second ti.
Yet, midway through his strides, Yang Jian suddenly halted. His pupils shrank, as though witnessing the most inconceivable sight.
Yang Jian saw a peculiar dium.
It was an elderly woman, her face wrinkled, her back slightly hunched. She stood motionless, her dim, lifeless eyes fixed ahead. She wore an old-fashioned cloth garnt, and a bamboo basket hung from her arm.
"That elderly woman from the bus? She's made her way into the mansion as well?"
Yang Jian's expression turned particularly grim.
This elder was unusual and ominous.
Not only did she appear on the bus, but she was also the ghost involved in the supernatural incident in Dachuan City's Room 301.
Back then, the elderly woman was already dead—a decayed corpse lying on a bed.
But now, this woman seed alive.
Despite this, Yang Jian still couldn't determine if she was human or ghost.
However, when she boarded the bus, the bus had counted the ghosts, and the number was: 2.
According to the bus's logic, this elder was categorized as a ghost.
From Yang Jian's perspective, the bus's judgnt wasn't always accurate. Zhou Deng, after wearing the Human Skin Mask, was also classified as a ghost by the bus, yet he was human—albeit a ghost wielder.
Ghost wielders aren't supposed to be judged as ghosts.
"Don't ss with now." Yang Jian glared at the woman, gripping his cracked spear tightly.
Based on the logic from Room 301's event, this dium activated just as Yang Jian spotted the elder—and the elder, in turn, seed capable of invading through the dium.
"No movent?"
Yang Jian paused briefly to observe. He saw that the elderly woman made no motion—not even shifting the gaze of her dim, cloudy eyes. Imdiately, Yang Jian chose to ignore her.
At once.
His Firewood Knife struck for the fourth ti.
This ti, Yang Jian dismbered the ghost horizontally.
Combined with the prior cut, this effectively divided the ghost into four sections.
Under such conditions, recovery would prove far more difficult than anticipated.
Moreover, within the vicinity, the diums of other ghosts were also impacted by his strike; they, too, were severed, and a small section of the area's diums was forcibly cleared.
Unsurprisingly, the curse continued to explode across his body.
"Second restart."
Without hesitation, Yang Jian employed the power of the Ghost Eye to restart himself, restoring his body from the verge of disintegration to perfect condition once again.
Within one day.
Yang Jian had restarted twice.
Although the intervals were short, the frequency was excessively high.
Still, he persisted and showed no adverse effects from the re two restarts. It seed even a third restart within the day wouldn't pose an issue.
While Yang Jian frantically dismbered ghosts in the mansion's main hall.
In the rear hall.
The crisis had been temporarily resolved.
The darkness retreated rapidly, and the vanished floor, walls, and ceiling returned. Everything reverted to its previously familiar yet unfamiliar state.
"Yang Jian succeeded." Fan Xing's eyes widened as he heard the commotion from the main hall.
anwhile, Da Qiang had already retracted the Ghost Domain at the very mont the supernatural phenonon subsided.
His expression was particularly grim; a stench of rot emanated from his entire body, making him resemble a lifeless corpse, his aura deathly and oppressive. Simultaneously, an inexplicable pain churned within him.
Da Qiang was undergoing ghostly intrusion.
Should the intrusions deepen too far, he would die from ghost resurrection—just like other ghost wielders.
However.
From the rear hall's doorway, a panting voice erged. Li Yang stumbled in, clutching a pale lantern and leaning against the wall, his expression a mix of uncertainty and doubt: "I... I'm back... I found the lantern... What's the situation inside?"
Around the pale lantern, shadows danced anomalously, and eerie signs erged constantly.
"Not late—you're still alive." The old man ("Eagle") spoke, observing the black dice symbolizing the ominous ghost no longer moving.
The ghosts seemingly participating in this ga were departing, with no new ghosts entering.
Li Yang scanned the interior, spotting Da Qiang, the Eagle, Yang Xiaohua, Fan Xing, and another stranger wielding ghosts—but Yang Jian was nowhere in sight.
"Where's the captain?" Li Yang asked urgently.
"Up front, battling the ghosts. He single-handedly held off every ghost in the mansion. If not for him, we wouldn't have lasted until you arrived." The Eagle replied.
Li Yang's arrival was prompt, nearly simultaneous with Yang Jian's actions—a difference of re thirty seconds.
But even those thirty seconds were enough to doom everyone in the rear hall.
Because Li Yang's pale lantern only stabilized the ghosts outside the mansion—it didn't affect those inside.
"How severe was the situation just now?" Li Yang's complexion changed.
Even the captain had to fight to the death—implying the events earlier were utterly catastrophic.
"No choice. Being able to survive was already a stroke of luck." The Eagle shook his head helplessly and eyed the dice on the ground.
His roll yielded three points.
The ghost's final roll was four.
He lost the final round, yet the ever-present lody of the Eight-Tone Music Box in his mind refused to fade, protecting him from the dice's curse. Even in defeat, he continued to play the ghost's ga indefinitely.
"I can't linger here; I must swiftly lead the ghosts away and complete the mourning ritual. Otherwise, these entities will keep invading the mansion." Li Yang spoke quickly.
"We'll leave the rest to the captain."
Without further delay, he carried the pale lantern and departed.
As he left.
All supernatural occurrences in the rear hall faded, including the eerie pair of old black cloth shoes—a sign vanishing inexplicably.
Everything returned to a superficial calm.
"The mourning ritual starting prematurely on the third day... It seems our guess was correct. Unfortunately, this is only the second day—if it weren't, fewer lives would've been lost."
The Eagle stoically picked up the ghost dice from the ground.
It was sure to be used later.
"Looks like we're out of danger for now." Fan Xing exhaled deeply, then leaped off a nearby bright red coffin.
anwhile, Yang Xiaohua, who had been perched on the coffin, finally dared to lower her feet from the air.
The sensation of standing on solid ground offered her a minuscule comfort.
"I can't fathom how Yang Jian managed it. The main hall was teeming with supernatural anomalies; he stabilized everything in re monts..." Fan Xing cast a glance towards the main hall.
With such terrifying powers, it was no wonder the supernatural community harbored such reverence and fear for Ghost Eye Yang Jian.
Unassuming in tis of peace, his abilities in crisis truly had the power to overturn dire situations.
"It seems Yang Jian has ceased his actions. Did he manage to resolve it?" asked the stranger wielding ghosts in a tense tone.
He felt anxious, worried whether Yang Jian had already succumbed.
"Uncertain." The Eagle voiced his thoughts, "Yang Xiaohua, go check."
"?"
Yang Xiaohua's expression shifted drastically.
Fan Xing chid in, "Go ahead and take a look; we need to stay here and guard the coffin without budging an inch. We can't risk any stray anomalies cropping up."
"Don't worry—nothing will happen. The hall's path is short; you'll be fine. Just follow Yang Jian's tracks—it's completely safe."
Yang Xiaohua held her tongue tightly, gripping a red balloon in her hands. With no alternative, she steeled herself and moved away from the vicinity of the coffin, heading for the main hall.
Her nerves were frayed.
The danger had only just abated.
Even now, verifying the situation carried imnse risk; a single misstep could cost her life.
However, the logic was sound.
With so many deaths in the rear hall, survivors were needed for vigil duty around the coffin. Yang Xiaohua—a seemingly useless presence—was the least critical to the group.
If she perished, it wouldn't influence the team's mission.
Soon.
Yang Xiaohua entered the main hall.
She saw nothing. The entire hall felt oppressively dim, its floor cloaked in pitch black—like a shadow layer. However, the shadow was incomplete, intersected by jagged, chaotic cracks, like a shattered mirror struggling to piece itself together but failing to heal.
At the hall's center, Yang Jian sat motionless, gripping a cracked spear tightly in his hands.
There were no ghosts nearby.
No supernatural phenona lingered.
Only Yang Jian remained.
"Yang Jian, are you alright? They sent to check on the situation—are you okay?"
Yang Xiaohua swallowed dryly, her throat feeling parched.
"I'm fine. I'm already aware of the situation on their side. Li Yang successfully retrieved the pale lantern; he's now roaming outside, diverting the ghosts from the rear hall, eliminating its invasion threat. As for my end, I've stabilized things."
Yang Jian said, "Our earlier speculation was correct—the third day is indeed the mourning ritual."
"Tell the others not to worry. We've made it through the second day; the mansion's ghosts should remain dormant for now. As for what happens afterward—to that, I cannot give guarantees."
"You don't look well."
Hearing about safety, Yang Xiaohua gathered her nerve and approached. But her eyes widened in alarm when she saw Yang Jian up close.
His face bore nurous terrifying cracks, his entire being seeming like a mosaic of corpse fragnts barely stitched together—on the verge of falling apart completely with the slightest movent.
"I'm fine. It's just a minor injury; a little rest will have healed." Yang Jian's expression was stoic as he spoke. But the words pulled at his wounds, causing a grim gash to open anew.
Unable to hold back entirely.
He had utilized the Firewood Knife to dismber ghosts as much as possible while deliberately withholding from restarting to heal himself, opting instead for the slow recovery of the Ghost Shadow.
Because he needed to preserve his restarts.
Using them all up would spell certain death.
"You sure it's not serious?" Yang Xiaohua nervously pressed, unable to shake off her unease.
Rather than focusing on , spend more ti analyzing how to survive the fourth day." Yang Jian responded.
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