Chapter 4: Waiting to Die Part 1

The System watched its host exchange for the talisman paper and finally let out a breath of relief. At least the host wouldn’t die today!

[System: Host, just stick the talisman paper directly on the Vengeful Ghost!]

Xu Deng stood with one hand shoved into his pants pocket.

The Vengeful Ghost had completely lost its mind. It charged at Xu Deng, cackling and roaring, as though he were a delicious meal. Black fog flooded the entire room.

Forget the surveillance camera being broken—even if it weren’t, the room was pitch black. Nothing could be seen.

Wrapped in darkness, a chill that raised goosebumps crawled across Xu Deng’s skin. Hidden within it, the sharp teeth seemed ready to tear him to shreds the very next second…

It was the closest Xu Deng had ever come to death, and yet—strangely—he felt excitement. So this was what it felt like to teeter on the razor’s edge of life and death…

The System’s heart leapt back into its throat. Why wasn’t the host using the talisman paper yet, ahhh!

Just as the black fog was about to swallow Xu Deng whole, he finally pulled the talisman from his pocket. It looked utterly ordinary, light and flimsy, and he pressed it against the fog—fog that seemed as solid as flesh.

The instant the talisman touched it, the black fog let out a shrill scream of agony, as though some immense power had instantly broken down that towering resentment.

Xu Deng narrowed his eyes slightly.

The fog dispersed bit by bit, and what appeared before him was a translucent ghost, as though it might scatter at any moment.

The ghost looked like a weathered middle-aged man, dressed in blue construction-site clothes and a hard hat. His skin was blackened from sun and rain, his back slightly hunched, and he stood there looking somewhat dazed.

After a long while, he seemed to come back to himself. He crouched on the ground and wept, clutching his head.

The survivors in the room stared at the scene, equally bewildered. One second earlier, they’d been certain they were all going to die—the Vengeful Ghost was just too terrifying—and the next, everything had dissolved?

The screening hall had been pitch black. No one knew what had happened.

Xu Deng gazed at the weeping man, words hovering on his lips. He paused, then said, “You’ve already had your revenge. What are you crying for?”

The ghost sobbed, “I’m about to die.”

Xu Deng was utterly merciless. “You’re already dead.”

The ghost choked on his tears, then wiped his face and said, “I haven’t seen my son in so long. I’m worried about him…”

The ghost rambled on, and Xu Deng finally understood the whole story.

The ghost’s name was Wang Tong, one of the laborers who had built this commercial street. And the man who’d just been killed—Zhao Xingmao—was the boss who’d contracted the project.

To speed things up, Zhao Xingmao had cut corners on construction, and the safety measures on-site were woefully inadequate. Wang Tong died in a construction accident. It was a serious incident—if it got out, Zhao Xingmao would face hefty compensation and the whole project would be shut down for rectification. Unwilling to let a scandal delay his work—and unwilling to pay Wang Tong’s family a cent—he ordered his men to bury Wang Tong on the spot.

Wang Tong had a disabled son, Wang Fusheng. It was for his son’s sake that he’d come to the city to work. Since Wang Tong had gone so long without contacting him, Wang Fusheng grew deeply worried and traveled a great distance to find his father. He found the construction site, but everyone told him Wang Tong had gone missing. Wang Fusheng and his father depended on each other—he refused to believe his father would simply vanish. So he camped out at the site every day, demanding that Zhao Xingmao give him an explanation.

But Wang Fusheng was just a disabled man from the countryside, with no power, no influence, no connections. How could he contend with someone like Zhao Xingmao? Zhao Xingmao insisted Wang Tong had already left, accused Wang Fusheng of stirring up trouble, and had him driven off and beaten. Zhao Xingmao was hoping to beat him to death. Wang Fusheng had no relatives and no money—if not for Wang Tong’s coworkers taking pity and helping him out, he likely would have died in a foreign land.

Wang Tong was buried beneath this very ground. Unresigned, his wronged soul refused to disperse. Separated from his son by the boundary of life and death, he watched time and again as his boy came looking for him, only to be beaten by Zhao Xingmao’s men—nearly killed on several occasions. Wang Tong’s hatred deepened day by day. He hated Zhao Xingmao, and that hatred finally transformed him into a Vengeful Ghost. But he couldn’t leave this cinema… so he waited, day after day.

A year passed.

At last, he’d waited for Zhao Xingmao to appear here.

Wang Tong knelt there, blood tears streaming from his eyes. “I just want to see my son one more time.”

The people in the room listened in silence, all of them stricken with sympathy. They’d thought the Vengeful Ghost was terrifying before—now they only felt Zhao Xingmao had died well.

But Xu Deng knew—he wouldn’t get to see him.

The Purification Talisman had purged the ghost of his malevolence. Stripped of his hatred and rage, Wang Tong was now nothing more than a ghost about to scatter. Life and death are separate; humans and ghosts walk different paths.

Some people you simply never see again.

Wang Tong seemed to realize this too. But having killed Zhao Xingmao, his obsession was gone—and thankfully, he hadn’t harmed any more innocents. He thanked Xu Deng, then stammered hesitantly, “Um, could you go see for me…”

But he never finished the sentence. His nearly transparent soul scattered.

Xu Deng stood in silence for a moment, then turned and left.

Just as he stepped out of the cinema, +10 +10 +10 appeared before his eyes… a total of 50 points—exactly the number of survivors in the room.

So saving people really was a losing business.

No sooner had Xu Deng left than Bai Yi finally arrived.

When the Vengeful Ghost had first appeared and chased after Zhao Xingmao, Bai Yi had been ready to act—but Yin Xun hadn’t moved an inch, saying something about how every wrong has its source and every debt its debtor… Bai Yi was frantic as an ant on a hot pan. This was bad—people were definitely going to die this time!

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. Yin Xun finally moved.

Bai Yi immediately followed—but to his surprise, Yin Xun stopped halfway, in the middle of the corridor. Bai Yi was baffled. Was he going or not?

But after so much delay, Bai Yi had gone numb. In his view, Zhao Xingmao was surely dead beyond any doubt, so whether they arrived a bit sooner or later hardly mattered.

As long as the Vengeful Ghost was eliminated, that was enough…

Bai Yi stood quietly behind Yin Xun, his expression reverent.

If Mr. Yin wasn’t moving, there had to be a reason. Perhaps the Vengeful Ghost had already moved elsewhere, or perhaps it was proving troublesome…

Bai Yi imagined all sorts of scenarios. Just as he was waiting in anxious suspense, he saw—

Mr. Yin turn and walk straight out of the cinema.

Bai Yi: ???

What was this now? Weren’t you here to exorcise a ghost? How do you just up and leave?

Bai Yi stood there alone, caught between advancing and retreating.

There was no way he could handle the Vengeful Ghost on his own. But this man had already walked off, clearly not intending to bother anymore—could Bai Yi really stop him? What on earth was happening today!

Bai Yi’s expression shifted through several phases. Finally, he gritted his teeth and charged in…

By the time Bai Yi arrived, all was quiet. Outside the screening hall, everything was a mess. His heart turned to ice. Clutching his Copper Coin Sword tightly, he drew a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Bai Yi: ?

The scene inside didn’t quite match his imagination.

There was no trace of any Vengeful Ghost—only a few survivors: four adults and one child. Aside from looking a bit disheveled, they seemed uninjured… Oh, and there was indeed a mangled corpse off to the side. Judging by the remaining foot, it was undoubtedly Zhao Xingmao.

If not for Zhao Xingmao’s corpse still lying there, Bai Yi would have suspected no Vengeful Ghost had ever existed here at all—that it had all been his imagination.

Bai Yi stood there dumbly, his mind a blank.

But where had the Vengeful Ghost gone?

Before Bai Yi could recover, the survivors swarmed around him, all talking at once in a fury of excitement.

“Are you here to save us?”

“Listen, you have to investigate Zhao Xingmao thoroughly—don’t you dare let him off the hook!”

“Yes, yes! That bastard did so many unconscionable things—you can’t let him get away with it!”

“If not for him, we wouldn’t have run into a ghost today. What rotten luck.”

“That victim was so pitiful—you have to make sure his family gets compensation!”

Bai Yi looked numbly at the corpse on the ground—so mutilated it barely resembled a person. Like this, and you still want to not let him off? You couldn’t even whip the corpse—there wasn’t a single intact piece left, all right?

And besides… you people just barely escaped death, and this is what you’re focused on? Wait a minute…

Bai Yi asked, bewildered, “How do you all know about these things?”

Surely Zhao Xingmao hadn’t held a last-minute confession session before dying?

Someone immediately explained eagerly, “The ghost told us!”

Bai Yi jolted. Finally, someone mentioned the ghost! That was exactly what he was here for! From the scene just now, anyone would’ve thought they’d walked into a whistleblower report!

Bai Yi said gravely, “Where is that ghost now?”

Someone said, “After he told us about Zhao Xingmao, he died.”

The child said, “He disappeared.”

The child’s mother added, “Vanished into thin air. We figure he must be dead, right?”

Bai Yi: ???

So the Vengeful Ghost held a confession session right before dying?

But how did he die???

Yet when he questioned the people present, none of them could explain.

Bai Yi felt like his brain had stopped turning. Mechanically, he offered a few words of comfort, promised that the relevant authorities would definitely investigate Zhao Xingmao, then walked out of the cinema with the weary gait of a man who’d aged a decade.

He made it all the way to the cinema entrance, where he saw that familiar silhouette. Bai Yi’s mind blanked—right, how could he have forgotten this man was still here!

Yin Xun hadn’t left. He stood quietly outside, his expression grave, facing the direction of the small path beside the cinema.

What was Mr. Yin looking at?

Bai Yi looked that way too, but saw nothing.

Still, he seemed to have some inkling of what had happened. All the bizarre events today must have been because of Mr. Yin!

Mr. Yin had first seen at a glance that Zhao Xingmao would come to a bad end, and then—surely relying on his transcendent powers—had slain the ghost from afar before anyone even noticed! No wonder Mr. Yin had left midway through; he must have already eliminated the Vengeful Ghost by then.

At this thought, Bai Yi was overcome with self-reproach. Just moments ago, he’d felt a hint of resentment, thinking Mr. Yin was too cold-blooded. Now it seemed Mr. Yin had foreseen everything with godlike accuracy and wielded unfathomable means—Bai Yi was simply too impatient.

He didn’t dare approach. He just watched Yin Xun’s back from afar, his admiration reaching new heights.

He’d only ever heard of this man’s deeds in legends. He never imagined he’d be fortunate enough to witness with his own eyes someone slaying a Vengeful Ghost without even lifting a finger! What kind of heaven-reaching skill was that!