Chapter 164: No Way Back on This Journey (14)
The streetlights couldn’t pierce the darkness beyond the road, and within the cast shadows, Yan Shixun’s expression was grim and solemn.
From the very beginning, he had harbored suspicions about the young man’s true identity. He had suspected that the youth was behind everything that had happened.
And now, this very scene was like the final piece of a mental puzzle falling into place, allowing Yan Shixun to suddenly understand everything.
The young man who had ultimately turned into a bloody skeleton was none other than Lan Ze, the Binhai University student who had been missing for several days.
After Lan Ze died, whether out of resentment or an unresolved obsession, he remained in the human world.
For reasons unknown, Lan Ze had drawn in ghostly energy and merged with the yin aura that had leaked out from the collapse of the underworld. This caused the ghostly energy to spread along the path he had once taken, and because of his lingering obsession, it was ultimately drawn back to Binhai University.
Lan Ze’s obsession…
Yan Shixun stared at the scene before him, which resembled an old film playing again, his gaze deep and heavy.
—It was Cheng Jing.
Through the bullet comments popping up on the tablet screen, Yan Shixun pieced together the relationship between Cheng Jing and Lan Ze based on what the students of Binhai University had said.
The two of them were both senior students in the chemistry department. Everyone had assumed that the only guaranteed graduate school spot at the prestigious Capital University would naturally go to Cheng Jing.
However, it was Lan Ze who was selected instead.
Cheng Jing had always been a well-known figure within the department, famously nicknamed “God Cheng.” Many students admired him and saw him as an idol, so they instinctively wanted to defend him.
The campus forum exploded in heated debate. Many accused Lan Ze of using personal connections to get ahead.
Even students from other departments, unaware of the full story, empathized with Cheng Jing and joined the angry mob, full of righteous indignation.
As public outrage grew, the university administration had no choice but to step in. They presented evidence proving that Lan Ze was indeed qualified for the graduate recommendation.
Although the uproar gradually settled down, Lan Ze was already psychologically shattered from the hateful comments on the forum. Even walking around campus, he often encountered people mocking him with sarcastic remarks.
Lan Ze felt suffocated on campus. In the end, he decided to go out for a walk to clear his mind.
But once he left, he never returned.
Yan Shixun recalled the news mentioned by Binhai students and remembered how Bai Shuang had once anxiously told him about a missing student from Binhai University who disappeared while hiking.
That student was Lan Ze.
And Lan Ze… wasn’t missing.
He was already dead.
Yan Shixun remembered jumping off the highway and seeing Lan Ze in the abyss—how Lan Ze’s flesh peeled away right before his eyes, revealing a bloody skeleton.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as his throat tightened.
On the tree-lined avenue, Cheng Jing and Lan Ze walked side by side, their expressions gentle and affectionate. When Lan Ze smiled, his eyes would narrow slightly, and his features looked bright and handsome.
But the Lan Ze Yan Shixun had seen…
He was dazed, hollow-eyed, and covered in blood.
Lan Ze would never smile again.
The torn flesh that had fallen from his body, the knife wounds on his face… all of it was the state he had been in when he died.
Unwilling to die just like that, desperate to see his lover one last time—Lan Ze’s final obsession before death had guided his soul back to Binhai University.
He had returned to the place he once knew, hoping to find his lover again.
—Which meant that if they could find Cheng Jing, they could find Lan Ze!
And as the key figure who triggered the surge of ghostly energy, finding Lan Ze could halt the spread of that energy and lessen its impact on Binhai University.
After all, life and death belonged to different realms. The longer the living were exposed to ghostly energy, the greater the harm—it could endanger their health or even their lives.
There were at least ten thousand people on the Binhai University campus. If all ten thousand were harmed by the ghostly aura, the resulting consequences and public backlash would be terrifying.
As these thoughts raced through his mind, Yan Shixun arrived at a conclusion.
He didn’t say a word. He simply kept his eyes fixed on the direction where the two figures walked along the tree-lined avenue.
In autumn, cherry blossoms of spring would never appear—this scene had already happened in the past, and the reason it reappeared now was because the ghostly energy had revived Lan Ze’s obsession.
Since that was the case, Yan Shixun could trace the places the two of them used to frequent by following their memories.
Cheng Jing’s roommate had told Yan Shixun that once Cheng Jing left the dorm at night, no one knew where he went.
If everything on Binhai University’s campus had been normal, then Cheng Jing might have left the university and gone to Lan Ze’s home, or to a place where Lan Ze used to go to clear his mind.
But with the campus sealed off by ghost energy, Yan Shixun suspected that, as the vessel for Lan Ze’s lingering obsession, Cheng Jing wouldn’t be able to leave the grounds of Binhai University.
—Just like how the younger “Yan Shixun” had been pulled into this ghost-infested world because of the memories of the real Yan Shixun.
Cheng Jing was the same.
He was somewhere on campus, most likely in a place he and Lan Ze used to visit together.
That meant, by following Lan Ze’s memories, Yan Shixun could roughly map out the area where Cheng Jing was located.
And Lan Ze, who had also been dragged into the sea of blood, was here as well.
He would be looking for Cheng Jing.
In that brief instant, Yan Shixun found his direction.
He watched the silhouettes of the two walk ahead along the tree-lined avenue, and as they reached the fork in the road, their forms gradually faded away.
From memory, Yan Shixun recalled the buildings in that direction.
There was the Grand Lecture Hall, the Main Teaching Building, the Science Building, and the Laboratory Building…
The Laboratory Building.
That was a place frequently visited by students from the chemistry department.
Perhaps, that was where the two of them had gone.
The streetlights flickered briefly, then burst with sharp pops, one by one, plunging the road back into darkness.
Yan Shixun immediately grabbed Ye Li and followed the path that Cheng Jing and Lan Ze had taken.
But just as the soles of his Martin boots stepped onto the tree-lined avenue, he sharply sensed that something felt wrong underfoot.
It wasn’t the hardness of asphalt. Instead, it felt like swamp—muddy, sticky, and offering no support at all. His feet almost sank into the soft, yielding surface.
Reacting quickly, Yan Shixun immediately pulled his long legs back.
But under the faint light, he clearly saw a string of sticky semi-solid matter clinging to the sole of his boot.
It wasn’t mud.
It was… flesh and blood.
Yan Shixun immediately lowered his head and looked at the ground beneath him—
And came face to face with a ghostly, sinister face.
His breath caught. He turned his head in alarm and looked across the surface of the entire avenue.
Only then did he realize that once the old scene had vanished and the streetlights had gone dark, the entire road had changed.
It looked like melting asphalt. The black surface had become viscous, churning in the darkness. Countless pale and rigid faces rolled up from beneath and then sank back down. They twisted in hideous expressions, howling silently, as though struggling desperately to escape from an infernal prison.
Yet they were constantly dragged back down by other demons lurking below.
Other ghosts trying to flee stepped on their companions to climb upward, only to have their heads barely emerge before being dragged back under again.
—It was a prison that no one could escape. If it couldn’t escape, neither could anyone else.
This was the Underworld.
Because of the rapid shift between light and darkness, human eyes couldn’t immediately adjust from brightness to pitch black, resulting in a brief moment of “blindness.”
That was why Yan Shixun hadn’t seen the changes in the road during that critical second.
Now that his eyes had adapted to the dark, he suddenly realized—the road was no longer the black of asphalt.
It was a blood-red so dark it nearly looked black, like coagulated blood after oxidation.
Just like the sea of blood that had dragged him down from the highway.
Face after ghostly face rolled up and sank back down, crying without sound.
Their sharp claws stretched out from the blood sea, trying to pull down those nearby into it, to join them, to rot together day after day in this sunless hell.
Yan Shixun’s heart sank with them.
…It was too late.
The ghost energy had already begun to transform the Binhai University campus.
The tree-lined avenue that once bustled with students had now become a hell of wailing evil spirits.
The shadows of the trees on both sides danced wildly, like ghosts clawing and flailing in the dark.
This scene nearly scared the students watching the livestream from Binhai University out of their wits.
Especially those living in the dormitories at the end of the tree-lined avenue, who walked that road daily to attend classes in the academic buildings.
They had just seen their familiar surroundings looking perfectly normal one second, only to suddenly be filled with ghostly faces the next. Caught completely off guard, they were so frightened it felt like they couldn’t even catch their breath.
Other viewers were just scared, but for the Binhai University students who regularly walked that road, this was a real-life horror story!
It was happening right near them, with an intense sense of immersion!
Some of the more timid ones were already trembling, sprinting back to their dorms like Olympic sprinters, leaping onto their beds and diving under the covers at record speed. Only then did they finally let out a breath and feel a bit more at ease, continuing to watch the stream from the safety of their blankets.
The live chat on the screen was filled with screams and panic.
[Ahhhhh! I walk this road every night when I return from the library! I’m crying—how am I supposed to ever walk it again at night?!]
[I nearly died of fright! I can comfort myself watching horror movies by saying it’s fake, but how am I supposed to trick myself now? I’m taking the long way from now on—I’m never walking down that road again.]
[!! I just came back to the dorm from that road. As soon as I entered, I heard the roommates howling and they showed me the livestream. Thanks a lot, you jerks!! Worst part—they were all already in bed and left me alone downstairs… I’m scared too, okay?!]
[I was brushing my teeth while watching the stream and got so scared I spat out the foam and dashed to my bed. The slowest one is still out in the hallway screaming “ahhh” while running. Heh, hearing others scream while I’m safe under my covers suddenly makes me feel oddly blissful.]
[Damn it! I just got off work! I’m outside the office! In the suburbs! Surrounded by trees! I’m standing by the road waiting for the night bus and I’m about to die of fear.]
[Same here… I swear I’ll never follow my dad to stay at the mountain villa again. The wind is howling outside, the trees look like ghosts through the window, and with the livestream projected in the living room… My dad’s already chanting Buddhist scriptures in fear. I’m honestly considering booking a flight back to the city just to be around people. This place is definitely not meant for human beings.]
[Please stop scaring us, sob sob. I’m in the library right now! I don’t even dare to go back! Anyone else here in the library? Can we go back together, please QAQ.]
[…I’m the only one studying in the teaching building right now. I’m terrified. Can someone come get me? Wuwuwu.]
[I’m madly running upstairs in my apartment building. My neighbors looked at me like I was mentally ill…]
[I’m dying of laughter because of you Binhai University students. I was scared too, but seeing that someone else is even more scared than me suddenly made me laugh out loud. Someone please interview a Binhai University student—how do you feel about the ghost rumors on your campus?]
[What do I think? Are you kidding me—what do I think?! I think someone better come save me right now! I’m not joking—there are ghosts in the livestream, and there’s one right next to me too… AHHHH HOLY SH*T!!!]
[…Hey, dude up there—what happened? Bro? Say something, let us know you’re okay.]
The previously lively chat suddenly fell silent.
Many people noticed that a user who appeared to be a Binhai University student had vanished right after sending that last message.
No matter how others called for him to reply or to let them know he was safe, he didn’t come back even after several minutes.
This unsettled the viewers who weren’t at Binhai University. They had no idea what might have happened to him.
And for the Binhai University students reading the comments in the livestream’s chat, many felt a cold chill down their backs.
Fear crept in, slowly and densely, seizing their hearts and making it hard to breathe.
Some students who had already returned to their dorms early sensed that something was wrong and rushed back to their rooms from all corners of the dormitory. They locked the door in one fluid motion and dove into bed, only relaxing once they were under the covers.
In some dorms, several students huddled together, trembling, borrowing warmth and courage from one another.
Some, realizing their roommates hadn’t returned, hurriedly called them in a panic, telling them about what happened and begging them not to go outside, to stay indoors for the time being.
When something unknown was happening, four walls always felt safer than the outdoors.
On the Binhai University campus forum, threads quickly piled up, discussing the livestream chat incident and urging everyone on campus to stay safe and avoid going out if possible.
Since final exams were approaching, many students were still studying in the academic buildings or library. Upon seeing these posts, quite a few silently retracted the foot they had just stepped out with, intending to return to their dorms.
Those sitting by the windows even scooted their chairs inward until they could no longer see the wooded area outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, only then letting out a breath of relief.
At that moment, because of that one message that never got a follow-up, a wave of dread swept across Binhai University.
Someone nervously asked: [Could it be someone’s prank?]
[It was the kind of performative personality that deliberately created panic just to attract attention. For all we knew, while we were here worrying about that person, he might have been secretly feeling smug about it.]
But that explanation was quickly dismissed by the students of Binhai University.
Environmental white noise, due to its consistent and patterned nature, was something people subconsciously ignored. Most ambient sounds were processed by the ears as routine, never making it to the brain for further processing.
Until something triggered a change, and people started paying attention to their surroundings.
Then, all those previously ignored elements began to resurface.
On an autumn night, the cold wind howled past the windows, tree branches slapped against the glass with loud bang bang! noises.
The wind carried a distant, muffled sound — a scream, faraway and faint, yet piercing and filled with bone-deep terror.
Amid the wind and the screams, scattered whispers floated in and out, sobbing and weeping. It was unclear whether it was just the wind or the cries of ghosts.
Within the Binhai University campus, many people were trembling with fear, wishing they could just bury themselves under their blankets and curl up into a ball.
They prayed silently, hoping that when they finally came out from under the covers, everything would have returned to normal.
But they were disappointed.
Suddenly, emergency notices appeared in all the announcement groups.
Counselors urgently informed everyone not to go outside if they were already in their dorms. For those not in their dorms, they were advised to enter the nearest building and avoid being alone — everyone was to stay together.
The notice specifically emphasized staying away from the main lecture hall on campus. Anyone near that area was to leave immediately.
The previously quiet notification groups now carried a tense atmosphere. Rows of bold exclamation marks filled the screen, making everyone feel anxious.
As students reported their safety in the group chats, just as instructed, many of them were filled with doubt and speculation, unsure of what exactly was happening outside.
The unknown danger, coupled with the vague noises coming from outside, made many feel overwhelmed by fear.
Especially when it came to that lecture hall…
The lecture hall was shaped exactly like a giant coffin. Whether viewed from a drone or from the front or sides, it unmistakably looked like a standard coffin — obvious at a glance. Many students used to joke that perhaps there really was a corpse inside.
Moreover, in the narrow strip of greenery in front of the lecture hall stood three old trees, which from a distance looked just like three incense sticks placed before a censer.
So naturally, students often let their imaginations run wild and came up with all sorts of stories about the lecture hall.
Every year during the Ghost Festival and Halloween, the campus forum held ghost story competitions to see who could craft the scariest tale about the lecture hall.
This had become somewhat of a tradition at Binhai University. Many alumni would smile knowingly when the lecture hall and ghost stories were mentioned — an inside joke only fellow students could understand.
As one of the top universities in the country and a century-old institution with a beautiful, heritage-rich campus, Binhai University was also a must-visit destination on any tourist’s list when in Binhai City. Many tourists came to admire it.
Tour guides often pointed to the famous coffin-shaped lecture hall and recounted a variety of ghost stories to visitors.
There was a legend that, a hundred years ago, many people had died on the grounds of Binhai University. Their corpses were supposedly piled where the lecture hall now stood, left to rot with no one coming to collect them. As a result, the souls of the dead, having no guidance, remained trapped there, unable to move on.
Even after those bodies were properly buried, it was said that one could still hear the ghosts crying at night in Binhai University — wailing about their deaths and their grievances.
Some alumni who graduated many years ago even confirmed that, back in their day, one could still see ghosts during the day. In the dim stairwells of the academic buildings, they claimed to spot silent figures standing in the shadows, quietly watching people pass by.
If you happened to glance over without much thought, you might catch a flash of a grotesque, mangled ghost face out of the corner of your eye. But when you looked again, there would be nothing but empty space.
As if it had been nothing more than a trick of the mind.
Yet once you walked past, a blurry silhouette would reappear in the shadow beneath the stairs.
They wore long robes and suits from a century ago, soaked in blood, their eyes hollow but filled with resentment…
For a time, more and more students and staff at Binhai University reported seeing ghosts. The situation grew serious enough to disrupt normal teaching and campus life. The university president at the time invited a Taoist priest from Haiyun Temple to examine the campus’s feng shui.
The Taoist from Haiyun Temple determined that, because too many people had died back then, the lingering resentment had accumulated. The area at the center of the campus was a natural depression, which caused yin energy to gather and remain, allowing the ghosts to manifest — even to the point of endangering the safety of students and staff.
Not long after the Taoist’s visit, construction began on that very plot of land. The large lecture hall was built.
The reason it was designed in the shape of a coffin was to provide a resting place for wandering and lost spirits, giving them peace so they wouldn’t have to cry and wail day and night.
The three trees in front of the coffin were also shaped like incense burners and sticks of incense, intended to soothe the dead souls with the idea of spiritual offerings, helping them reincarnate.
However, there were also rumors that the coffin was meant to suppress the evil spirits below.
Because those who had died often carried resentment in their hearts. Watching the lively students on campus, they grew envious and hateful, wanting to drag the students into the underworld to keep them company.
So, to suppress them and prevent them from harming the faculty and students of Binda University, the coffin was placed to align with the campus’s feng shui. It gathered all the negative energy in one place and locked it inside the coffin, stopping the spirits from wandering around the campus.
There were many different stories.
With time, these explanations became numerous and messy, so much so that even Binhai University students no longer knew what the lecture hall was really about.
Some students vaguely listened to upperclassmen talk about the “Top Ten Haunted Legends of Binhai University,” others blindly believed what they read online, while some scoffed, thinking it was just a failed attempt at traditional Chinese design.
Still, everyone who had been to the lecture hall admitted one thing: it was genuinely cold inside.
Even in the height of summer, when famous professors gave lectures or events were held there, and the hall was packed to the brim, people would instinctively bring a jacket to fend off the chill that seeped up from the floor and walls.
Since the opening ceremony and freshman speeches were held in the lecture hall, everyone had experienced being kindly reminded by upperclassmen to bring extra clothing, and that left a deep impression on them.
Now, as students saw their counselor specifically emphasizing not to go near the lecture hall, suspicions grew stronger, and a sense of unease crept into their hearts.
The campus forum was ablaze with activity.
“Did you see the announcement? Does anyone know what’s going on at the lecture hall?”
“I walked past it last night and felt a sudden chill. Looks like something really did happen.”
“Stop acting all wise after the fact. When is it not cold around the lecture hall? Never heard of fluid dynamics? That area is a wind tunnel.”
“Yeah, I’ve studied it too, but seriously, the lecture hall was really cold today. I think it was after dinner, less than an hour ago. I was shivering so badly that I rushed back to my dorm to grab more clothes. But strangely, once I left the area, it didn’t feel cold anymore.”
“Stop pretending it’s supernatural. I overheard the counselor on the phone. It’s not as scary as you think. There’s a fugitive hiding near the lecture hall—apparently a suspect from that news case a while back. That’s why we’re being told to stay away—to prevent anyone from getting caught up in it.”
“I’m curled up under my blanket, and I’m still shaking so badly I can barely hold my phone. I’m so scared I could cry. I’m all alone—my roommates are all out on internships. What do I do? I’m freaking out.”
“Ahhh, we’re missing someone in our dorm too! She’s still in the lab! What should I do? I’m so worried about her.”
“There are four of us crammed into one bed, trembling together. It’s terrifying outside…”
“Seriously? There are no ghosts. You’re all just scaring yourselves.”
“F**k!! The one saying there are no ghosts—go outside the library and take a look yourself! What the hell is this? What is this?!”
Amid all the anxiety and speculation, the students who claimed to be near or inside the library were especially agitated.
But the forum admin responded swiftly. Before the post could be seen by more users, the entire thread was quickly deleted.
Simultaneously, each faculty’s notification group added an urgent update:
—Do NOT go to the library! Students currently inside, stay put and do not approach any doors or windows!
Inside the library, tension filled the air.
Security guards locked the main doors tightly and stood watch with riot batons in hand, peering cautiously through the glass into the darkness beyond.
Students trapped inside huddled away from the windows and doors, anxiously gathering at the center, unsure of what exactly was out there in the night.
But one thing was clear to everyone—
Something was approaching the library.
Outside, the wind howled wildly. It squeezed through the cracks of improperly shut windows, shrieking and wailing like a chorus of ghosts crying at night.
Tree branches shook violently.
From the bright interior looking out, what was usually a peaceful and refreshing green space now seemed the most terrifying—like a horde of evil spirits clawing and baring their fangs in the darkness.
Outside the window, there came a faint tap-tap sound, like something was climbing along the glass.
Those who heard the sound instinctively turned to look—and were met with a twisted, grinning face.
“!!!”
Screams echoed through the library.
The students who were drawn to the commotion looked over and were equally horrified.
When they saw the face partially hidden in the shadows outside the window, many involuntarily shouted “What the hell!” and nearly lost control.
Some students clutched tightly at the front of their shirts, so panicked they nearly fainted.
Those not present in the library looked completely confused.
But very quickly, the dormitory managers—both the old man and the auntie—shut the dorm entrances and locked them securely, floor by floor. Then they loudly shouted up and down each floor, instructing everyone to close their doors and windows tightly and to stay inside for now.
When students asked what was happening, they all received the same reply: —“A dangerous person has broken into campus. The security office is coordinating with the authorities to handle the situation and prevent any accidental harm.”
At the same time, the official in charge was also on a call with Binhai University’s administration.
The university officials were beside themselves with worry.
There had been an abnormal incident on campus—and this was a place with over ten thousand people densely packed together! If anything happened, the consequences would be unimaginable.
And after conducting a preliminary investigation, they had already discovered that some individuals were missing, their whereabouts unknown.
Bad news was also coming in from within the campus—from the area near the lecture hall and from the library.
The person who had initially posted the comment about seeing a ghost before suddenly going offline still had not resurfaced online.
Campus security immediately reviewed surveillance footage and found that, at that exact time, a student had indeed been passing by near the lecture hall.
To take a shortcut, the student had walked through the woods in front of the hall.
The cameras caught him entering—but there was no footage of him ever coming out.
In the surveillance feed, the darkness in the forest gave no hint of what had happened. Whether he was alive or dead was completely unknown.
This made the administrators even more anxious—they wished they could trade places with the student if it meant ensuring their safety.
After the official in charge fully understood the situation at Binhai University, although he couldn’t leave the highway himself, he immediately dispatched personnel from a special department to the university to assist the Taoist masters from Haiyun Temple in dealing with the anomaly on campus.
Taoist Song Yi, who had originally been resting and healing, had earlier found himself bored and casually opened a livestream before bed. But upon discovering that Yan Shixun was currently at Binhai University, he immediately realized something was wrong. He grabbed several fellow Taoist masters and their peachwood swords and rushed straight to the university.
—Fortunately, it was already evening, and Haiyun Temple had closed to tourists.
Otherwise, the visitors would have witnessed something straight out of legend: Taoist Song Yi, in his rush, leaping from the mountain temple and gliding down like a martial arts master using light-foot skill.
Meanwhile, at Binhai University, both the counselors and the administrators were drenched in sweat from stress.
One counselor, upon discovering that Cheng Jing’s dorm was empty, learned from nearby students that Yan Shixun was livestreaming, so she immediately opened the stream—only to see Cheng Jing’s roommate appearing in it.
The counselor was completely stunned.
She looked up at the empty dorm room in front of her, then back at the tablet screen showing the roommate, and even rubbed her eyes in disbelief before checking again.
Realizing something was seriously wrong, she immediately reported the incident up the chain.
After receiving the report from Binhai University’s administration, the special department quickly intervened. The public opinion team took control of the campus forum and began subtly guiding online discussions to prevent panic.
When large groups of people gathered, emotions could spread like wildfire. Information would get lost or distorted as it was passed along, eventually becoming wildly exaggerated and far more terrifying than the actual truth.
To ensure the safety of Binhai University students, the administration issued an immediate lockdown. No one was allowed to leave, and all campus buildings were locked once nearby students were brought inside.
This naturally led to people being gathered together—and the unknown, coupled with speculation, was the perfect fuel for escalating fear.
To help stabilize student emotions, the public opinion team—trained for such emergencies—quietly steered discussions. Whenever someone posted about seeing danger or ghosts, they were contacted immediately and their report was passed on to the rescue team.
Everything was proceeding in an orderly, methodical fashion.
If anyone were to step outside a building right now, they would see that the once-beautiful Binhai campus had turned into a living hell.
The ground pulsed and shifted like a soft, thick swamp, oozing and bubbling.
Beneath the churning blackness, ghostly faces surfaced and sank, grimacing grotesquely as if trying to escape from the melting asphalt.
The once ordinary roads had transformed into ghostly, eerie paths shrouded in heavy yin energy. Vicious spirits, once confined to the depths of hell, had somehow broken free and appeared in the human world.
What used to be a campus with lush greenery was now blanketed in thick fog, cold and dark.
The towering ancient trees began to change within the gloom—their bark peeled away to reveal corpses bound to the trunks by crawling vines.
Their hollow black eye sockets stared fixedly into the mist.
The vines rustled and writhed, oozing malevolence. Any living being that tried to pass was at risk of being dragged into a prison woven from those very vines.
Beneath the coffin-shaped lecture hall, faint, translucent figures began to emerge.
They were dressed in clothing styles from a century ago, covered in blood and confusion. Many of them were missing limbs, some were even headless corpses, staggering around in a daze.
But soon, the ghostly energy creeping along the roads seized them all, dragging them down into the melting asphalt.
Not a single scream was heard. The ghosts were silently pulled into the sea of blood.
Darkness descended, and ghostly energy thickened.
…
Without the slightest hesitation, Yan Shixun kicked and crushed the ghost that had tried to grab his ankle.
The hard skull shattered beneath the full force of his kick. Yellow-black bone fragments flew through the air, many landing in the blood sea, where they were quickly devoured by other evil spirits with wide-open jaws.
The ghost whose skull Yan had just smashed was swiftly torn apart and consumed by the surrounding spirits, disappearing completely from the surface of the blood sea.
Some of the bone dust landed on his combat boots. Yan Shixun frowned in disgust and lifted his foot to shake it off, unwilling to let the filth linger on his shoes.
According to what Ye Li had explained, the overwhelming ghostly presence was due to the collapse of the underworld, which had finally buckled under the strain of managing the dead. As a result, hell’s spirits had begun to escape.
Those imprisoned in hell were usually souls weighed down by great sin.
That alone made Yan Shixun hostile toward the spirits in the blood sea. He showed no mercy, and he certainly didn’t allow their remains to get near him.
Using his finger as a brush, Yan drew talismans in the air, silently chanting incantations. Golden light surged from his fingertip, swiftly forming mysterious symbols in the air, glowing brightly in the darkness.
The golden radiance stung the nearby evil spirits, who silently wailed as they scrambled to flee from Yan. Even the blood sea beneath his feet began to recede.
Centered on him and the talismans flowing from his hand, a vacuum-like zone formed around him—no ghost dared to cross it.
Ye Li’s gaze swept indifferently over the ghosts in the blood sea. From his elevated position, his cold eyes held not a shred of warmth.
It was just a glance, but the evil spirits seemed to have witnessed something unimaginably terrifying.
They immediately surged deeper into the blood sea. Where once they had fought to rise to the surface, they now desperately dove down, trying to escape the terrifying pressure looming above.
The slower spirits didn’t even have time to flee before they were reduced to ashes in their terror, leaving behind only a faint wisp of ghost energy in the vast blood sea.
Thus, the blood sea, which had been about to spread along the tree-lined avenue, came to an abrupt halt at Yan Shixun’s feet.
He stood there like a blade drawn between the worlds of yin and yang—where he stood, no evil dared to cross.
Seeing that the spread of the blood sea had stopped and the evil spirits no longer tried to claw their way out, Yan Shixun let out a breath and quickly lowered his gaze to the tablet in his hands.
One detail mentioned in the constantly scrolling comments had caught his attention.
A student from Binhai University said that criminals had broken into the campus, and now they had no choice but to remain holed up in their dormitories and buildings.
Other comments tried to comfort them, urging them not to go out and assuring them that safety would return soon.
But Yan Shixun quickly noticed several leading and manipulative messages among the comments and immediately recognized the handiwork of the public opinion team.
Given what was happening at Binhai Universityand the fact that a special department had intervened, Yan Shixun realized—something had gone terribly wrong at the university.
The ghost energy likely wasn’t content with staying in the isolated space it had broken into. It had started seeping into reality itself, affecting the actual students of Binhai University, who were now being hunted by hell-born spirits in the real world.
Yan Shixun immediately reached for the account on his tablet to contact Taoist Song Yi. But just then, a flash of blood red caught the corner of his eye.
It wasn’t the deep red-black of the blood sea.
It was the fresh, bright crimson of raw flesh, freshly stripped away.
Just like…. the blood skeleton that Lan Ze had finally become.
Yan Shixun swiftly raised his eyes.
There, ahead on the tree-lined path, a blood-red skeleton stood quietly, gazing distantly in his direction.
It seemed to be warning him.
—Do not come. Do not disturb me.
…This reunion with my beloved.
In the next instant, the tablet in Yan Shixun’s hands, along with the split-screen feed, cracked with a sharp snap.
It shattered into pieces.
The blood skeleton vanished.
If you love what Ciacia is doing, then consider showing your support by supporting a cup of tea for her at Kofi. If you can’t wait for the next release chapter, subscribe to advanced chapters membership on her Kofi to get access to up to 10 chapters!
