A series of eerie winds billowed through, piercing the long, narrow corridor of the mine.
Li Zheng followed closely behind Fang Ming as they traversed the labyrinthine passages. In the blink of an eye, they were already far from the entrance.
Looking at the dark, bottomless tunnel, Li Zheng said hesitantly, “They shouldn’t have caught up. Do we really need to keep going further in? What if there isn’t enough oxygen?”
Fang Ming turned his head slightly. “You can go back anytime.” His pace did not falter; he clearly intended to go deeper.
Looking back at the way they came, Li Zheng’s heart skipped a beat. He had been too panicked to remember the route. Everyone else had scattered in the frantic rush, and trying to turn back to find the others now would likely be impossible.
Seeing Fang Ming drawing further away, he quickly trotted to catch up. “How are you so familiar with this place? Have you been down here before?” Li Zheng asked curiously.
Fang Ming remained silent.
The further they went, the dimmer the wall lamps became. This was a clear sign that oxygen was growing scarce.
Li Zheng did not want to proceed. “I had no interaction with Lu Xincheng at all when he was alive. Even if he has turned into a vengeful spirit, he wouldn’t come after me for revenge. Kong Xian bullied him on set before; he is definitely coming for Kong Xian. We really do not need to be this scared.”
As Li Zheng spoke, he watched Fang Ming out of the corner of his eye, hoping to see a hint of hesitation. Unfortunately, Fang Ming showed no intention of stopping; if anything, he walked faster.
After passing another corner, Li Zheng grabbed Fang Ming’s arm.
“We cannot go any further. Let us go back.” The anxiety in Li Zheng’s eyes was now completely visible. “I have a very bad feeling. If we go down any more, we might,” he swallowed hard, “die here.”
Fang Ming glanced at him without a word, shook off the other man’s hand, and continued forward.
“Fang Ming, have you lost your mind? Are you that afraid of Lu Xincheng? You did not even have a grudge against him!”
Fang Ming finally stopped. He turned around, the dim wall lamp casting shadows across his gaunt face. His forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat, though whether from the hurried pace or nervous tension was unclear.
“That gun in Kong Xian’s hand was given to him by me.”
The only sound in the cave was the breathing of the two men. Fang Ming’s words, paired with his current despondent expression, made Li Zheng’s skin crawl.
Li Zheng: “…”
The expression on Li Zheng’s face shifted from blank confusion to explosive terror. “Why would you do that? How did Lu Xincheng offend you?”
“He did not offend me, and I was not the one who wanted to kill him.” Fang Ming forced himself to stay calm, but his voice trembled. He gritted his teeth. “And now, that murderer wants to kill me too.”
“Who exactly wants to kill whom? Make yourself clear!” Li Zheng grew frantic.
“It is,” Fang Ming pulled himself together, his eyes regaining a flicker of clarity, but he changed his tune at the last second. “If you do not want to die, stay close to me.”
“No, if you do not explain, you are not going anywhere.” Li Zheng grabbed Fang Ming by the collar.
Li Zheng was an actor, over 1.8 meters tall, and a regular at the gym. Fang Ming was of average build; while not as tall, his years of labor meant he was not weak.
As the two reached a deadlock, heavy, chaotic footsteps approached from the distance.
Vengeful ghosts dragged their heavy feet through the long corridor. They were all burly, fit young men with jumpsuits covered in dust and expressions that were either hollow or hideous. Under the glow of the wall lamps, their pupils appeared to be covered by a grey film. Several held shovels, looking extremely aggressive.
The miners moved slowly, but the dark, death-dealing aura they emitted was enough to make anyone terrified. Fang Ming’s eyes swept past the crowd of ghosts and were instantly drawn to a phantom at the end of the line, which triggered an unprecedented terror.
The man trailing at the back had a peerlessly handsome face, looking completely out of place among the grotesque spirits. On the surface, he looked like a little lamb that had accidentally wandered into a pack of wolves.
“He, he is here,” Fang Ming’s voice was hoarse and his pupils contracted. He instinctively grabbed Li Zheng’s clothes. “Run, now!”
They had not run far before they realized they were heading into a dead end. Li Zheng suddenly remembered something and pulled a small gold plaque from under his collar. He pressed down on Fang Ming’s shoulder and whispered, “Do not speak. Hold your breath.”
Li Zheng added, “Do not move. They cannot see us.”
Having been in the sunless mine for too long, the ghosts were entirely blind. They sniffed the air for the scent of the living, trying to discern the direction of the sounds.
Fang Ming looked at the small gold plaque in Li Zheng’s hand.
It was an amulet obtained from a Great Master, which was very effective for warding off spirits and evil. The Master had said that within five meters of this amulet, ordinary ghosts could not approach.
Sure enough, the swarm of ghosts seemed to lose their target. They stopped in the corridor, looking bewildered.
It actually worked! Fang Ming’s eyes lit up.
Li Zheng was about to nod when the smile on his face froze.
A cold hand abruptly reached out. Its fingers were long and the joints were elegantly formed. However, Li Zheng was in no mood to admire them, because that hand directly snatched the amulet from his neck.
The amulet hissed in the hand like steam on a hot pan before being heartlessly tossed to the ground.
Li Zheng’s eyes widened, and he immediately moved to pick it up.
A foot stepped firmly onto the charm.
Hunched over, Li Zheng slowly raised his head and met a familiar face. Those eyes curved, the pupils shining like brilliant stars, and the lips curled into a perfect arc. “Brother Li, long time no see.”
“Long, long time no see.” Li Zheng’s lips trembled. Beside him, Fang Ming ditched his colleague and bolted.
The moment the amulet hit the ground, the ghosts seemed to wake up.
Their grey pupils turned toward the two men. Once the target was clear, their heavy steps suddenly became agile.
Li Zheng wanted to flee but was held down by the shoulder. He struggled with all his might but could not move an inch.
That well-defined hand seemed to possess the strength of a thousand pounds, firmly gripping the man beneath it.
“AAHHH!” Li Zheng clutched his head and screamed, certain he was about to be killed by the swarming ghosts.
However, the expected pain did not come. After a long moment, he lowered his hands and opened his eyes. All the ghosts had bypassed him, chasing after the figure ahead.
That figure was the fleeing Fang Ming.
The grip on Li Zheng’s back remained. The hand lacked human warmth, resting on his shoulder like a cold blade. Li Zheng did not even have the courage to look back.
“Listen to me. If you do not want to die, do not move.” The male voice was magnetic and soft, but to Li Zheng’s ears, it sounded like the whisper of a demon from hell.
He shook all over. “Xiao Lu, I, I never harmed you. Do not kill me.”
“I know.” Lu Xincheng’s voice softened and his face showed no anger. “But him.”
Li Zheng looked forward. The chase between Fang Ming and the ghosts was nearing its end; he had run into a dead end.
“Damn it.” Fang Ming retreated step by step until his back hit the stone wall, the approaching ghosts reflected in his eyes.
The ghosts were salivating. They surrounded their prey from all sides, ready to swarm and tear him to shreds at any moment.
Strangely, they seemed to completely ignore Li Zheng, with their eyes fixed only on Fang Ming. Li Zheng glanced sideways. Was it because of Lu Xincheng?
A realization flashed through Li Zheng’s mind, and he blurted out, “Fang Ming said someone else made him do it! Someone else told him to swap that gun!”
Lu Xincheng raised an eyebrow and called out, “Is that so, Fang Ming?” The voice traveled through the narrow corridor, hitting the cave walls and vibrating in layers of echoes.
Every ghost froze instantly.
Fang Ming’s expression tightened.
“Did you not just say someone made you swap the gun?” Li Zheng reminded him.
Fang Ming finally snapped out of his daze. “Yes! It was Director Dai!” he cried. “Right before the scene started, he suddenly told me to swap the prop. He gave me the gun. I did not know it was real!”
Lu Xincheng’s face showed no surprise. “Words are wind. Do you have proof?”
“Xiao Zhang, Xiao Zhang was there too. He must have seen it.”
Lu Xincheng scrutinized him from a distance. Though there was a gap between them, not a single subtle expression on the middle-aged man’s face escaped his eyes.
The air stood still for a few seconds. For Fang Ming, it felt like a lifetime. “I will go and verify with him whether you are lying,” Lu Xincheng said calmly.
The ring on his hand emitted a faint grey light.
At that same moment, the emotions of the ghosts were transferred onto him. The massive impact caused his retinas to become bloodshot instantly.
Lu Xincheng suddenly shoved Li Zheng away. His voice was suppressed to the limit, and a peak of violent rage surged in his heart which he forcibly held back. “Get lost. Now.”
Feeling that bone-chilling aura, Li Zheng turned and ran in the opposite direction without looking back.
The ghosts, like old mine carts that had suddenly lost power, collapsed to the ground one after another.
Fang Ming, having narrowly escaped death, also ran back. As he passed Lu Xincheng, his pace slowed for a fraction of a second, and his mouth framed a “thanks.” However, upon seeing the predatory expression on Lu Xincheng’s face, he was terrified and flew away like the wind.
Lu Xincheng walked forward slowly. This was the first time he had absorbed emotions on such a large scale.
He leaned against the wall, feeling a hunger so deep that every organ in his body was screaming for flesh and blood. His sense of smell was unprecedentedly sharp; there was residual blood on the wall. Without thinking, he stuck out his tongue, but the pale pink tip stopped a split second before touching the stone.
Lu Xincheng bit his tongue hard. The sharp pain caused his face to contort for a moment, but it brought back a shred of sanity.
He listened as the footsteps of Fang Ming and Li Zheng grew further and further away.
Lu Xincheng slowly sat down against the base of the wall. At the distant entrance of the cellar, new footsteps seemed to be entering.
Clang, bang, crash.
The sound of a heavy object rolling down the stairs.
A middle-aged Taoist priest stood up miserably from the bottom step. Having tumbled all the way down, he had countless scrapes on his limbs, and blood flowed from a wound on his forehead.
Yang Jingtai clutched his head, not daring to look back and rebuke the man who had kicked him down. His nerves were frayed; he held his breath and looked around at the strange, empty environment, unsure where danger would strike from.
After the soul-summoning ritual had taken effect, the ghosts in the basement had been awakened.
Their senses were extraordinarily sharp, and their hunger for fresh blood was unprecedented. It was as if the long-awaited prey had finally stepped into a pre-set trap. Countless eerie pupils flickered in the depths of the cave, emitting an excited, greedy light.
The ghosts scrambled to pounce, each wanting to be the first to taste the sweetest blood.
Yang Jingtai had never seen such a hellish scene. Trembling, he fumbled for a yellow talisman from his chest. Before he could even finish the incantation, the claws of the lead ghost reached him. Sharp, long nails shredded the talisman and ruthlessly pierced the priest’s right shoulder.
Yang Jingtai’s eyes nearly split from terror; he recognized the figure before him as a powerful Red-Clad Specter.
Under the agonizing pain, only one thought remained in his head: “This is the end of me.”
Click.
It was only a very soft sound.
Yet, it caused the ghosts pouncing on their meal to freeze in unison.
From the dark grey pupils of the specter in front of him, Yang Jingtai read a trace of astonishment.
When those black leather boots stepped onto the final stair, the wandering souls of the entire underground mine felt as if they had encountered something utterly terrifying.
A myriad of souls fell into dead silence.
The lesser spirits with weak power turned and vanished instantly. The vengeful ghosts activated by the summoning spell stood still; though they were in different spots, their gazes all turned toward the same place.
The soles of the boots stepped crisply and cleanly on each stair, creating a hollow echo that pierced the eardrums of every ghost like a drumbeat.
They had never felt such a terrifying aura before and did not know what it was. This natural intimidation suppressed their desire for food in a short span of time.
The Red-Clad Specter was the first to snap out of it. He craned his neck to bite the side of the priest’s neck, but his fangs jammed the moment they pierced the skin.
His entire body froze in place as a black-handled peach wood sword drove straight through his head.
The ghost’s body wobbled twice before exploding into a dense cloud of black mist with a bang.
The long sword, having lost its support, did not fall to the ground. It flew back through the air at high speed.
Slender fingers firmly gripped the hilt. As the palm turned, the back of the hand was so fair that the blue veins were clearly visible. The grip on the black hilt seemed effortless, yet the power in the lean, muscular arm was not to be underestimated.
Only then did the ghosts truly realize that what awaited them was not a delicious meal, but the total annihilation of their souls.
Before they could flee, the nightmare descended.
The man holding the sword had a cold, stern face, and his eyes were like ice pits devoid of emotion. He loosened his grip, and the black sword flew out, snapping open in mid-air to become an umbrella. The pitch-black canopy sent out a ripple like ink washing over water, and a magnificent white light expanded from the top of the umbrella. The moment it opened, every ghost covered by the light was rendered unable to move.
Drawing the long sword from beneath the umbrella, he moved with agile strides, his blade falling with every step, severing the heads of the ghosts one by one.