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Taking the flashlight that still carried the warmth of the person before him, Xiao Mei instinctively tightened his grip on the object. He could see no danger around him, relying entirely on Song Bunan's guidance to determine their next steps. However, he was now informed that the ghosts merely stood silently around them without any movement, which made him feel that something was very wrong.
Just as he intended to ask for more information, an event occurred that left him utterly unresponsive: Song Bunan, who was still reaching out to hand him the flashlight, was pierced through the throat by a pale, slender hand. Shocked, he stumbled backward, helplessly clutching his neck as blood began to froth from his mouth. His trembling body fell still on the ground before he could reach him.
The incident happened too quickly; even someone who considered himself battle-hardened could not intervene. In disbelief, he rushed to Song Bunan's side, trying every method to confirm his condition, but the person before him had already lost all signs of life. Those eyes remained open, staring blankly at the ceiling, causing a sudden pain in his chest.
He placed his hand over Song Bunan's eyelids, wanting to help close them for him. But almost simultaneously, that blood-stained hand reappeared without a body or connection, emerging from the darkness and grasping Song Bunan's head, dragging the corpse into the shadows.
Xiao Mei slowly rose to his feet, his grip on the flashlight deforming from pressure. At that moment, all his emotions were swept away by anger. With a heart full of regret for Song Bunan, he illuminated the path leading to the second floor with the flashlight and ran toward it without hesitation.
Only there could he find what he sought! Gritting his teeth and gripping his short sword tightly, he saw the ghosts that Song Bunan had mentioned within the beam of light. The various forms of spirits stood coldly in the white glow, their gazes fixed upon him regardless of whether they had eyes.
Song Bunan's comparison of these entities to welcoming hostesses echoed in his ears, fueling the flames of hatred and anger within him.
"Anyone who stands in my way shall die!" He paid no mind to how many ghosts were before him; every one that approached was cleaved by his sword. The flashlight possessed a revealing ability; it acted like a double-edged sword—while he illuminated the ghosts, they also saw him.
On his way to the second floor, he dispatched at least a dozen spirits with ruthless efficiency. Upon reaching the second floor, he found himself facing corridors on both sides. Contrary to what Song Bunan had said about black mist on the right side, both corridors lay bare and unobstructed before him.
Shining the white light down the corridor revealed only an empty passage on the right with no response; however, on the left appeared a hunched figure slowly walking away into the distance. Xiao Mei's expression darkened as he approached that silhouette step by step. The white light made it increasingly clear; when he was less than a meter away, he confirmed that this figure was not his master.
"In this room from now on, anyone who is not needed shall not live." Having lost his friend and rationality alike, he cared not for right or wrong as he thrust his short sword toward that white shadow. The weapon inscribed with runes was incredibly sharp and effortlessly cleaved through the figure.
The hunched form fell silently to the ground under the white light and revealed its appearance—a frail old man.
The moment Xiao Mei recognized the old man's face, it felt as if thunder had exploded in his mind. The movements were not those of his master yet bore an uncanny resemblance; now lying on the ground, its body gradually became transparent.
Then a sharp pain shot through his head as memories from long ago resurfaced in a staggering rush.
On a rainy night three years ago, he knelt in their courtyard asking his master why he had abandoned him. The figure leaning on a cane walked slowly away into the rain without answering, only letting out a soft sigh. That emotionless voice shattered his last defenses and made him unable to contain his sorrow as tears streamed down in the rain.
He saw himself kneeling in that rain-soaked moment—having endured countless farewells—slowly rising and running toward where his master had departed with his short sword clutched tightly.
The old man with graying hair offered no resistance but merely looked at him coldly; his gaze colder than any weapon in hand. The rain washed away the blood flowing from wounds as if it had never existed.
His master's body grew colder just like Song Bunan’s had when clutching at his throat moments ago. But he hadn’t pierced through his master’s throat; thus came a voice:
"How can you forget how I died?"
The voice came from behind him; startled, he turned around and found himself back in reality. The speaker was none other than his master.
The dismembered body on the ground had vanished; now standing before him was a gray-faced figure dressed in funeral attire with a smile on its lips and its head tilted slightly to one side—where its eyes should have been were only two dark hollows.
"Master..." His headache showed no sign of easing as he struggled to believe what he had just seen and what stood before him now. This wasn’t right; it couldn’t be like this. After his master left, he fainted from overwhelming emotions—his senior brother had chased after them upon hearing noises and brought him back to their room while pursuing their master.
"It’s not me!" He shouted at the approaching figure drawing ever closer. The eerie smile widened further as it twisted its face completely around to reveal its hollow skull approaching him.
Fear, sorrow, and disbelief enveloped Xiao Mei as he experienced the most terrifying moment of his life. He lost all composure and, as his master approached, dropped everything in his hands, collapsing to his knees with the last of his strength. He dared not look at the master who had pursued him for three years, now standing before him in such a manner.
If what he had just witnessed was the truth, then the senior brother who had told him that their master had arrived was lying and covering for him. But how could he have killed his master?
He glanced at his hands, which were not only dusted but also slowly stained with mottled blood. Panic-stricken, he tried to wipe his hands on his clothes, but the bloodstains only became more pronounced, shifting from black to brown, and finally turning a vivid red.
A chill crept closer, and he instinctively looked up to see his master's face—bloodied and devoid of eyes—almost touching his own. In that moment, his breath caught in his throat. It felt as if something within Xiao Mei had snapped; he clutched his head and fell to the ground, unable to suppress a scream.
A sinister laughter echoed from all directions, and someone softly called out, "Come here, child, come here."
The voice seemed to rise from the depths of the earth, imbued with a bewitching power. With no ability to resist, he was drawn towards it, forgetting the pain in his head and no longer seeing the spirit of his master or any other ghosts; he simply walked toward the source of the voice.
As he walked, another figure appeared beside him. The newcomer wore familiar leather boots and motorcycle pants, with hair tied loosely into a small bun. As he recognized the person, relief washed over him—like a leaf struggling in the ocean finally rescued by a drifting plank.
“Shui Su,” he murmured the name, reaching out to grab hold. But the figure evaded him and laughed lightly, saying, “What are you to deserve my help? This is merely about using you to open this place. Now that I’ve achieved my goal…”
Those words severed all hope and fantasy. He saw the hand that had taken Song Bunan reappear once more, slowly crawling out from behind Shui Su and lunging toward him.
The pale hand gripped his neck tightly as if trying to rip his head off. The suffocating pain blurred Shui Su's image before him; even the light that had appeared seemed to dim once again.
The sensation of death varied for everyone. Xiao Mei, who had never experienced it before, let go of all thoughts as he struggled to breathe. This was the fate he was meant to have; whether what had just happened was real or not no longer mattered.
“Whether you live past Eighteen or not is not something you or I can decide.” He recalled his master's words from years ago and found himself wanting to laugh. How could he dare hope that anyone could help him live beyond Eighteen?
As darkness descended completely, Xiao Mei was thrown to the ground by that hand. With no strength left to breathe on his own, he used the last bit of energy he had left and saw not the hand or Shui Su but Song Bunan running toward him from afar.
Perhaps they were coming to fetch him; after all, they had all died in this house. The Gathering Yin Land would welcome all souls; surely he would be no exception.
But just as he thought he was about to die, warmth touched his face clearly and gently; faintly, he heard someone anxiously calling out his name.
This warmth dispelled all fear and coldness from moments before, making him feel as if he had returned to the world of the living in an instant. Yet another wave of pain surged through him, preventing him from opening his eyes.
Desperately trying to break free from the darkness before him, Xiao Mei finally caught sight of two figures beside him before pain overwhelmed everything. One was Song Bunan… but who was the other?
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