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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 41: Ghost Street
On both sides of the street, there were many shops, each adorned with various signs, much like a flower girl's extravagant underwear. There were all kinds of styles, some with gilded edges, others with handwritten characters, and some even decorated with colorful neon lights along the edges.
The businesses here were run by outsiders who, upon arriving, were clueless about the place. Over time, they would regret their decision too late. They could only endure until their contracts expired, hurriedly moving their families away, vowing never to return to Ghost Street.
The merchants here learned their lessons only after encountering troubles, so most of them operated like Baymax in business, closing up shop promptly at night.
During Baymax hours, this street felt cold and eerie even under the blazing sun. The chilling breeze made it hard for business to thrive; naturally, it was a ghost town where even selling at a loss required a tough resolve to keep going.
Now, as I walked down this street, the dead silence enveloped me. The sound of my footsteps echoed strangely, giving off a bone-chilling sensation.
At this moment, my hearing reached an extraordinary level; I could sense even the slightest movement of hair on a person's body.
I chuckled to myself—exaggeration is good.
Ding—a faint sound rang out, piercing through the stillness around me and standing out starkly.
It seemed like a nail had dropped to the ground.
But there was no one around; where could the nail have come from? It wasn’t just my imagination; hearing it truly sent shivers down my spine.
To prepare for any surprises, I was on high alert, fingers gripping a talisman tucked away in my pocket, ready to confront any ghost that dared challenge me.
Hearing its sound without seeing its form? What’s there to be afraid of? Besides, ghosts fear people seven parts of the time; people fear ghosts only three parts.
This is true for ordinary folks.
But I was just the opposite; I wasn't afraid of ghosts, but of people—ghosts I could confront, but people I would avoid.
Lost in my thoughts, a chilling sound suddenly reached my ears from not too far away.
Creak... creak...
It was the sound of a cartwheel used in the countryside to haul fertilizer.
The creaking of the cartwheel came from the east and moved westward, matching my direction perfectly.
Fearful, I didn’t turn back to look; I pressed on with determination.
The creaking grew louder, seeming to be just a foot behind me, and I could even feel a cold breath creeping closer.
I cleared my throat and spat out a thick phlegm. This was a trick my grandfather taught me: when encountering something unclean, spitting can ward off evil spirits.
To my surprise, it actually worked; that jarring and unsettling creaking sound abruptly stopped.
The noise seemed to halt right behind me, as if the cart had come to a stop because someone was holding back the wheel to silence it.
It was an eerie sensation, but I didn’t look back; I walked straight ahead. However, with the sound gone, the surroundings fell into an unnatural silence that felt extremely strange.
The street trees, the streetlights, and the houses gave me the impression of being in a realm akin to the Underworld.
Just then, in this dead silence—a sudden crack! An eerie scene unfolded as the originally dark street lit up all at once, as if powered by electricity; every streetlight flickered on in unison.
Startled, I felt as if I were a clown performing on stage, caught off guard under the spotlight, and a bit nervous.
That fear of being exposed made me want to hide as the lights shone down, while unseen spectators whispered among themselves. They pointed at me, some with an insatiable hunger, as if they wished to devour me whole.
Before I could catch my breath, a synchronized sound of footsteps approached from the west.
Amidst the rhythmic marching, I heard a creaking noise, like metal scraping against metal.
If I were to activate my Demon Eyes now, it would undoubtedly connect me wirelessly with the Yinling here.
In that case, they would see me, and I would see them. The outcome of such an encounter could be terrifying, so I refrained from activating my Demon Eyes; curiosity should not lead to reckless actions.
I believed they couldn’t see me but could sense the murderous aura emanating from me. Let’s not forget that talismans carry a dangerous energy that only powerful spirits can perceive.
The sound of shuffling continued to echo in my ears as I caught sight of them.
A group of Island Nation Demons clad in Yellow Weasel attire. They had died, yet their Evil Souls lingered here; this was the training sound of Evil Souls described in legends. Fatty had surely never witnessed anything like this. I thought about bringing him along for some fun after meeting Mi Li.
Seeing these incomplete Island Nation Evil Spirits, missing limbs and all, I never expected their presence to suppress the ghosts throughout the entire street.
Now, aside from the footsteps of the Island Nation Evil Spirits, Ghost Street was silent.
The pale light from the streetlamps formed a circle.
Beneath those bamboo-like lamp posts, shadows writhed restlessly—one moment transforming into a slithering snake and the next into a swirling black sphere.
Damn it!
Suddenly, a chill swept past me, as if something had pinched my foot.
I frowned slightly and turned my head to look. To my surprise, I really saw in my shadow a pair of pale hands that quickly retracted, almost too real to be true.
Looking for trouble! I muttered under my breath, ignoring the ghost's provocation. These boring spirits truly failed to pique my interest.
I grasped the Invisibility Talisman in my hand; it was wise to hide myself decisively.
After activating the Invisibility Talisman, I opened my Demon Eyes. One step, two steps, three steps—these damned Island Nation Evil Spirits were getting closer. I could see the deathly expressions on their faces, with a hint of brutality hidden in their brows, their gazes fierce, malicious, and hollow.
These Foreign Evil Spirits had died and turned into ghosts, yet they continued to oppress us Chinese Ghosts. If I wasn't mistaken, as long as they existed, the spirits on this street would never find peace or have a chance to break free from this Deadlock and reincarnate.
My grandfather had once tried to drive away the Foreign Evil Spirits from this street but failed due to poor timing. To successfully expel these Foreign Evil Spirits, one needed the right time, place, and people. I had heard of something called the Diplomatic Ghost Court; although I had never seen such a ghost court myself, those in the Paranormal Circle said it was a department specifically for handing over foreign Evil Souls.
Only those with high cultivation could access this department's Wuchang Ghost Messenger. I suspected my grandfather must have encountered a Wuchang Ghost Messenger at the ghost court, but unfortunately, I didn't know what he lacked at that time.
I couldn't bear to watch any longer as these foreign Evil Souls continued their misdeeds on our territory. I really wanted to accomplish what my grandfather could not.
Exorcising Foreign Evil Spirits was no small task; if I succeeded, I would be a Meritorious Minister; if I failed, I would be just another Deadbeat. After thinking it over, I forced a bitter smile at myself—I had to work hard and release the trapped Chinese Ghosts here.
This task seemed simple enough in theory, but it was far from easy in practice.
The orderly footsteps gradually faded into an ethereal distance, and the streetlights flickered, emitting a faint hissing sound.
Then, darkness once again swallowed the light. The signs on the shops lining the busy street still emitted a weak glow.
I looked up and inadvertently glanced at the nearest sign. In a flash, a character disappeared into the darkness. It appeared to be a store selling flooring? Coincidentally, the glowing character reflected a glimmer of light!
Never mind. I had other matters to attend to tonight; everything else was unimportant. In the darkness, a low sobbing sound faintly echoed.
"Help me..." A woman in a low-cut cheongsam, quite alluring, stood under the streetlight, striking poses and casting flirtatious glances my way.
I scoffed at her antics and coldly ignored her as I walked on.
After walking quite a distance, I exhaled and inhaled a breath of cold air when a delicate, teasing voice seemed to whisper in my ear.
A few steps later, another sign flickered under the streetlight, revealing the character for "prison," in a blood-red font.
Previously, it had been "floor," which could have indicated a flooring store. So what did this "prison" mean? Surely there couldn't be a Hell Gate Arcade around here!
The thought made me chuckle, though it was somewhat absurd. I needed to stay calm; this Ghost Street was rather peculiar.
In my estimation, this street wasn't long; it certainly wouldn't stretch endlessly.
Had I encountered the Ghost Wall? If it was the Ghost Wall, it wouldn't stump me. Immediately, I unzipped my pants and let loose a stream of bright liquid with an unpleasant odor toward the front; I had been feeling quite irritated lately, and the smell was rather strong.
Hey, this trick really worked! Looking ahead, I could see the intersection in the distance. Crossing this street revealed uneven houses ahead. This area was illuminated as if it were broad daylight.
I left a pitch-black darkness behind me, secretly pondering that I would never walk this Ghost Street again.
Looking ahead, I spotted a few houses that had not yet been evacuated, still inhabited by people.
Among these houses were many low-rise residences. More than half of the residents were struggling laborers living on the lower rungs of society. Only by passing through this residential area could one reach the quieter region known as Xie Ming Manor.
I had researched all the information about Xie Ming Manor.
Originally, Xie Ming Manor was an ancient temple, nestled beside the fields, where the evening drums and morning bells quietly observed the changes of the world.
As time passed and various calamities occurred, the ancient temple was relocated, and the Mud Buddhas inside met unfortunate fates. Some were smashed and buried as roadbed gravel, others discarded in deep ditches, while some were taken home to serve as stepping stones.
Later, a rare plague broke out.
Many people died inexplicably in this place.
Due to the deaths, those who had just filled their stomachs were anxious, speculating whether it was related to the ancient temple.
Then, someone quietly returned what had been taken away to its rightful place.
Gravel from beneath the roadbed was dug out, and incomplete stone fragments were pieced together and piled at the original site of the temple.
Eventually, a returnee who had a deep affection for the ancient temple repaired it and renamed it Xie Ming Manor.
Xie Ming Manor did not have any special decorations.
A statue of the Mud Buddha stood on either side, beneath which lay a massive stone coffin.
The coffin was empty inside.
Someone, a person suffering from a terminal illness, lay within the coffin. As long as they held onto kind thoughts, they would awaken, transformed as if reborn.
These were merely tales.
When my grandfather was alive, he strictly forbade us from coming to this place.
As I grew older, I sneaked in but never had the chance to play before my grandfather found out and dragged me back. The consequence of returning was always punishment—kneeling.
Because of this, I was not very familiar with the surroundings here. After walking for a while, I finally saw a sign that read "Xie Ming Manor."
Checking the time, it was exactly 1:00.
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