Chapter 166: No Way Back on This Journey (16)
The official in charge felt as though even his brain had gone numb.
In the beginning, he had only come to investigate this area because of his personal connection with Mr. Yan. It was a private matter, prompted by a message Mr. Yan had sent him.
But he hadn’t expected that his visit would lead him straight into a collision with the department investigating the missing persons and murder cases—and on top of that, he’d run into the Taoist priests from Haiyun Temple, who were tasked with tracking down ghost roads.
Everything had become entangled. Different teams from various departments, all with their own separate responsibilities, now stood side by side on the roadside of the blocked highway, surrounding the scene of an accident where there were no cars. They stared at one another, bewildered and silent.
The official pressed his fingers to his temples in frustration. He was stretched far too thin.
Both of his phones were ringing non-stop. One call hadn’t even ended before the other started blaring again like a death knell. The rapid-fire barrage of demands had left his mouth dry and his throat parched.
After hastily organizing the tasks for the public opinion team and requesting a temporary closure of this section of the highway—to prevent uninformed citizens from stumbling into what was still an unknown danger—the official finally managed to catch his breath. Then he quickly began responding to messages from the leadership at Binhai University.
A call from Yang Binsheng came soon after, asking about the situation at the university.
Binhai University had been founded during a turbulent era a century ago. It had long been considered one of the top two universities in the country, alongside the capital’s university. Known collectively as “Jingbin,” the school had always attracted widespread attention.
Any unusual incident at Binhai University could easily become a hot topic online, with people eagerly discussing every little detail.
Already, footage of the Binhai University campus from Yan Shixun’s live feed, along with a few snippets of conversation from students, had begun to stir discussions on social media.
Although the platform itself had cooperated with the public opinion team to filter out related keywords from the trending topics list—hoping to prevent further spread—the measure was only temporary and superficial.
What mattered most at this moment was ensuring the safety of Binhai University.
Most importantly—there were over ten thousand students on campus!
If anything were to happen, even to just one person, it would be enough to make Yang Binsheng feel too guilty to stay in his position.
“All the program crew members are no longer on the highway. The only bit of good news is that their split-screen livestreams are starting to come back online one by one, so we can at least see their current status.”
The official spoke steadily as he rapidly switched through different interfaces on his tablet, checking each split screen in turn, and reported the situation to Yang Binsheng.
“And from what we can see on the feeds, everyone else is still either on the highway or in the nearby hills. Only Mr. Yan is inside the Binhai University campus.”
The official paused before continuing, “We don’t yet know why Mr. Yan appeared all the way at Binhai University, which is a hundred li from the highway. But since he’s there, we believe the situation won’t escalate too badly. His presence has bought us some time.”
What worried him more now…
Was actually the other guests near the highway.
Once the rescue teams arrived, they immediately began a thorough search of the entire highway, including the farmland and villages on both sides.
But whether it was personnel at the next toll station or local villagers, everyone said they hadn’t seen the program crew. There were no signs of them in any of the surrounding fields either.
No one in any direction had seen them. So by all logic, something had to have happened to the crew on this stretch of road.
The rescue team had focused their search on this segment of the highway.
Yet despite conducting a painstaking, grid-by-grid search, they still couldn’t find the convoy of vehicles used by the program team.
It was as if the accident scene… had no vehicles at all.
The program’s convoy had completely vanished. The official had seen, through the livestreams, that the vehicles carrying the guests had been involved in a serious accident. The cars had flipped over, and some of the guests’ livestream feeds still hadn’t come online, making him increasingly anxious.
But the highway was spotless—there were no signs at all that any of the program’s vehicles had crashed.
Unlike a typical accident scene, there wasn’t even a single fragment of debris or a broken part left on the entire road.
When Taoist Ma heard about this, he fell silent for a moment. Then he turned to the white-bearded Taoist beside him and asked, “When did you all determine that this road had become an Yin path?”
The white-bearded Taoist stroked his beard and explained the full process of their calculations and investigation to Taoist Ma.
“There was even a moment, when the ghostly energy surged to the heavens.”
The white-bearded Taoist said solemnly: “In that instant, I even began to suspect that the world of the living had overturned, and the gates of the underworld had been thrown wide open.”
Taoist Ma quickly asked for the time, and then he suddenly realized—
“That’s exactly the time when Junior Brother Yan sent the message about a car accident on the highway!”
The official in charge hurriedly pulled up the previous live stream to check what had happened on the road during that time.
The main screen of the live broadcast at that moment quickly appeared on the tablet.
A vehicle braked sharply, and the guests cried out in surprise.
Meanwhile, Yan Shixun’s split screen happened to capture a person waving in front of the car, the accident itself, and the driver’s statement.
—“The person appeared out of nowhere.”
The timestamp at the top of the video immediately caught the official’s attention.
He recognized that time because he had just reviewed the dashcam footage from passing drivers, and had also noted the time of the accident.
All the timestamps matched exactly.
Just then, the first team that had arrived on the scene also walked over.
“Although we didn’t witness the accident directly, based on the dashcam and the footage from the live broadcast, our preliminary judgment is that someone in the back seat affected the driver’s control of the vehicle. And…”
The team leader hesitated for a moment before voicing his guess: “From experience, based on the brake marks and the crash trajectory, it looks like the driver lost complete control of the car. The main cause of the rollover was likely the driver instinctively slamming the brakes and not letting go, which caused a system malfunction.”
Drawing from his past experience, the team leader mentally reconstructed the situation and shared his theory with the official.
Someone in the back seat had strangled the driver. As the driver struggled during asphyxiation, he instinctively pressed down hard on the brake, causing the car to veer off course and crash into the roadside.
“The driver probably died on the spot,” the team leader speculated.
The official exchanged glances with the Taoist priests and saw the same look of alarm and uncertainty in their eyes.
“A vengeful spirit seeking justice,” Taoist Ma’s expression turned grim. “That driver killed the missing university student, and the student turned into a ghost to take revenge.”
“Both the car and its passengers disappeared…”
The official spoke in a heavy tone. “Just now, Taoists said this road has overlapped with the Yin Path. It seems… all of them are already on that path.”
“That’s a road we can’t see.”
In other words… the rescue team wouldn’t be able to help the program members. They would have to rely on themselves to survive.
The official looked back at the tablet, his gaze growing heavier.
Although Taoist Ma was uneasy as well, he tried to comfort him. “My junior nephew is also with the crew. Don’t worry. Even though Junior Brother Yan isn’t there, my junior nephew can help the others.”
The official hesitated and asked, “May I ask… is your junior nephew Lu Xingxing?”
Taoist Ma slowly nodded. “…Yes.”
“What is his Taoist name?”
“…Well, his surname is Lu.”
“Has he officially graduated from the sect?”
“……”
“Taoist Ma, thank you for trying to reassure me. But.”
The official asked, “Do you really believe what you just said?”
Taoist Ma was at a loss for words.
He knew full well his own junior nephew… hadn’t graduated yet!
And because Lu Xingxing was young and playful, often preoccupied with entertainment industry work, he had missed countless lessons. That was why he still hadn’t officially graduated and was far behind his peers in terms of foundational skills.
Every time Lu Xingxing returned to the Taoist temple, wasn’t he always chased down the mountain by Taoist Song Yi?
He was practically one of the top ten infamous legends of Haiyun Temple now.
Taoist Ma’s face went blank. A chill passed through his heart, and he didn’t know what to say.
The official sighed, but suddenly a lightbulb went off in his head—he remembered someone else.
Jing Xiaobao!
Although the child was a fierce ghost, so dangerous that many masters had tried to eliminate him—and if it weren’t for Haiyun Temple suppressing the situation, countless “world-savior” masters would have flocked to Binhai City to take him out—because of Yan Shixun’s presence, the kid had more or less behaved himself and hadn’t caused any major trouble.
But the official remembered that Yan Shixun had previously messaged him, saying that Jing Xiaobao had gone to mess with the team trying to copy the original show. Those internet celebrities were still trembling in fear, unable to recover.
Now he wasn’t so sure anymore.
He could only hope the kid would behave and not make things worse.
The official sighed, staring at the endless notifications piling up—over 99 unread messages in just a few minutes—his head throbbed.
Since Lu Xingxing had already been mentioned, the now-guilty Taoist Ma quickly pulled up Lu Xingxing’s split screen, trying to find any evidence to support his claim that “Lu Xingxing can help the others.”
Taoist Ma: Junior nephew, you’re making it really hard for me. People are going to think I’m just bragging about my own family.
But very soon, Taoist Ma had no time to worry about such petty concerns.
—On Lu Xingxing’s screen, fierce ghosts were wailing endlessly, the forest was dark and eerie, and the sound of gongs echoed with a haunting chill.
This was… underworld soldiers passing through!
Taoist Ma felt like his heart dropped straight into an icy abyss.
“Fellow Taoist!”
Taoist Ma immediately turned and ran toward Taoist Yang Xuhu. “The Yin Path you’ve been tracking—it’s here!”
When Taoist Yang Xuhu saw the forest on the screen, he nearly choked on his breath. “Blessings from the Boundless Heavenly Lord!!”
The lead Taoist also furrowed his brow tightly. “The worst-case scenario has happened.”
While the nine Taoist priests discussed the matter with serious expressions, the official wasn’t idle either.
The leader of Binhai University sounded extremely anxious over the phone. “The campus is in total chaos! There are ghosts all over the place outside the buildings. From the surveillance footage, all the roads look like they’ve melted—there’s no way to defend against them!”
“And those things are spreading into the buildings. The university has mobilized every resource currently available on campus to protect the students and has already requested reinforcements from the Binhai City authorities. But no one outside can get in at all!”
When it was discovered that ghostly energy was spreading throughout the campus, the Binhai City authorities responded swiftly. They immediately blocked all roads leading to Binhai University under the pretense of roadwork and dispatched personnel to isolate the campus, preventing innocent civilians from getting caught in the situation.
However, something unexpected occurred when the first group attempted to enter the university.
Although everyone clearly saw the group walk through the campus gates, a thick fog instantly swallowed their figures, and all means of communication were cut off.
Those outside lost contact with the ones who had gone in.
The second team entered immediately, equipped with more advanced emergency gear, prepared to rescue the first group and investigate the situation inside the campus.
But the second group also disappeared in plain sight.
Fortunately, thanks to their better preparations, they managed to send back intermittent messages.
Communications were disrupted—static crackled through the line, and the voice on the other end was garbled and unclear. One could also hear many rustling and scraping sounds, like bones clashing against each other.
After understanding the situation from inside, the people outside fell silent.
“The campus ground has turned into a swamp, and the woods have become corpses…” the on-site person in charge said in shock.
Thankfully, Taoist Song Yi arrived quickly.
The people outside only saw a dark figure streak across the night sky with a “whoosh!” before a stern-faced Taoist appeared in front of them, his sideburns and robe hems still fluttering in the air.
“Everyone’s trapped inside the campus, right?” Taoist Song Yi strode forward confidently, a sword strapped to his back, talismans hidden in his sleeves, exuding a powerful presence.
It looked like a scene straight out of a movie.
Though they had been informed that a Taoist from Haiyun Temple would be arriving, the on-site commander—who had never worked with Haiyun Temple before—hadn’t expected such an impressive figure. Caught between skepticism and belief about ghosts and spirits, he stood stunned.
He nodded and subconsciously echoed Taoist Song Yi’s words: “Our team lost contact after entering and got trapped inside.”
He pointed at the university gate. “We still don’t know what’s happening inside, but the safety of the students comes first. We’ve decided to force our way in.”
Taoist Song Yi followed his gaze.
Founded over a hundred years ago, Binhai University had, due to urban expansion, come to occupy a prime location in the dense and expensive Binhai City district.
Backed by mountains, with flowing water winding through the campus and lush greenery all around, the ecosystem had been perfectly restored. It wasn’t uncommon to spot cute little squirrels and foxes.
Not only did these sights amaze Binhai University’s students, but they often became hot topics on social media, with many netizens expressing their delight at the adorable animals.
From that, one could imagine just how scenic and beautiful Binhai University normally was.
But now, the greenery that once soothed the soul had become the most terrifying shadow.
Towering trees swayed gently, wind moaning as it passed through bone-like branches.
Thick fog blanketed the area, muffling all sound. The campus lay deathly silent.
Those outside couldn’t see anything happening within.
In the dim light, all the trees appeared like looming ghostly figures. The entire campus had transformed into a ghost city—an evil spirit’s carnival ground.
When the on-site person in charge recalled how the previous groups had vanished as soon as they entered the fog, his expression turned grim.
Yet while his mind was still racing for solutions, he caught a glimpse of deep blue from the corner of his eye.
Instinctively, he looked up and saw Taoist Song Yi walking past him.
The Taoist stood tall and resolute, showing no hesitation or fear as he headed straight toward the campus.
The on-site person in charge was stunned. “Taoist…”
Wasn’t charging in like this the same as walking to one’s death?
But Taoist Song Yi didn’t even turn his head. His cloth shoes stepped through the gate.
In an instant, his figure was engulfed by the dense fog.
It was as if a giant beast had closed its mouth, swallowing its prey whole.
Everyone who saw this scene felt their hearts skip a beat. It made the mysterious things within the campus seem even more terrifying.
The on-site person in charge was on the verge of losing it.
He wasn’t afraid of casualties, but that didn’t mean he could just stand by and watch others walk into death!
He immediately reported the incident and began organizing a rescue operation to retrieve the Taoist and the previous teams.
At that moment, a car sped toward them, its tires screeching loudly on the otherwise silent street.
Several Taoists in robes rushed out, their expressions anxious. “Taoist Song Yi… huh?”
One of them looked around in confusion, not spotting Taoist Song Yi anywhere.
The other Taoists were just as puzzled: “?”
Where was Taoist Song Yi?
They had watched him take off and fly away with their own eyes—he should’ve arrived before them.
After explaining their identities and purpose to the on-site commander, one of the Taoists asked whether anyone had seen Taoist Song Yi.
“Traffic in Binhai City was awful. Taoist Song Yi was too anxious to wait, so he flew over using his lightness skill.”
The Taoist explained with a sigh. “I hope no one saw him. If they did, the Abbot is definitely going to call another meeting—an all-day one. We’ll get chewed out again.”
The people nearby felt dazed, as if reality had become surreal.
One person hesitantly asked, “With how common smartphones are now… wouldn’t someone definitely record him if he flew over the road like that and post it online?”
The Taoist: …
Because those who frequently dealt with Haiyun Temple were all from special departments.
If tonight’s incident hadn’t involved the entirety of Binhai University, the Binhai City authorities wouldn’t have dispatched these people here.
So, many of those present at the scene didn’t truly believe in ghosts and spirits before this.
But the moment they saw Taoist priests arriving one after another, they began to feel their understanding of the world was being challenged.
Yet when they looked at the campus that had already devoured two waves of people, their hearts sank once again.
They could only hope the Taoist priests from Haiyun Temple truly had the skills to rescue those trapped inside.
After asking clearly about the number of people who had gone in earlier and their general appearances, the Taoist priests immediately promised the on-site person in charge that they would bring everyone out unharmed.
“Please rest assured, we’ll go in first to assist Taoist Song in the rescue. You can wait here for now—if something happens to us inside, it still won’t be too late to take further action.”
A Taoist priest comforted the on-site person in charge, saying, “Even if we die, we will protect those trapped inside the campus.”
Though they were from different sectors with different responsibilities, at this critical moment, both Haiyun Temple and the Binhai authorities shared one belief:
—Let us die if we must, but others must not be harmed.
That night, countless office lights stayed on till dawn.
The official in charge had originally been on the phone with the Binhai University leadership when a startled cry suddenly rang out nearby.
He turned toward the sound and saw a uniformed officer staring at a tablet in terror.
The later team had originally been deployed to track down the suspect driver, but unexpectedly found themselves involved in this situation.
Since the incident involved the suspect, they decided to join the investigation on the highway.
While the rescue team began heading into the forested mountains near the highway to look for clues, the uniformed officers searched the area near the car accident. Because the official had mentioned the program and the livestream, someone was assigned to monitor it in case anything related to the suspect appeared.
The cry had come from the officer in charge of watching the livestream.
“What is it?” the official asked, walking over.
“M-Mr. Yan’s split-screen livestream…” the man pointed at the pitch-black screen on the tablet, his face full of confusion and fear. “Just now, I think I saw a skull, and then the screen went black.”
The official’s expression changed dramatically.
The public opinion leader also called in urgently: “Sir, we’ve lost contact with Mr. Yan. I’ve already begun guiding the public narrative.”
The Binhai University leadership was drenched in cold sweat: “Sir, do you remember the coffin lecture hall on campus? I’m very worried that the current situation might trigger a chain reaction and disturb what’s sealed beneath it.”
The official’s eyes widened slightly.
The lecture hall…
Everyone who had been monitoring Yan Shixun’s split-screen stream saw the blackout happen in real time.
Many viewers still had their screams stuck in their throats when the screen suddenly went dark. Their own reflections appeared in the now-black display.
The viewers were stunned: [?]
Some even asked in confusion: [Am I supposed to be scared right now, or should I be wondering what just happened?]
They weren’t the only ones with questions—the livestream chat soon erupted in chaos.
[Holy sh*t! Seeing my own huge face suddenly scared the hell out of me!]
[Damn, my double chin… This is the first time I’ve realized how horrifying I actually look.]
[What the hell just happened? Why did it suddenly go dark? Is Brother Yan okay?]
[I once heard from someone at the streaming platform that these types of live reality shows use tech to ensure stable broadcasts—blackouts or disconnections aren’t supposed to happen. So what’s going on now?]
[If it’s not a technical problem… I’m starting to suspect something happened to Brother Yan.]
[Am I the only one who saw a skull?!!! Right before the screen went black, something red flashed across it—I thought I was seeing things, but before I could react, the whole screen went dark.]
[Finally someone who saw what I saw! You guys were all so calm discussing it just now—I almost died of fear. I thought my house was haunted!!]
[Ahhh you at the front—shut up! I’m home alone. With you saying that, how am I supposed to sleep tonight?]
[…My bestie and I are huddled under the same blanket, shivering for warmth. Just saying, even not being alone doesn’t make it less scary.]
[My blanket suddenly felt ice-cold. I even used an extra-thick one, but I’m still freezing. I don’t know why, but I keep feeling like something is behind me… I don’t dare turn around.]
[When the screen went black, my wardrobe made a noise—I was nearly scared to death! My mom said it was because it’s winter now, and the wood of the wardrobe is expanding and contracting, which causes sounds, but now I’m starting to suspect there’s something inside the wardrobe. I don’t dare to open it, sob sob.]
[Ahhh, is Brother Yan okay!! I’m so worried.]
[Are there any students from Binhai University who can go check on Brother Yan? Didn’t they just say he was right downstairs from their dorm building? It should be really close, right?]
[…You in the front, didn’t you notice? People from Binhai University haven’t shown up in a long while now.]
Thick fog had risen, completely isolating Binhai University.
At this moment, it was like a solitary island. People inside couldn’t get out, and those outside couldn’t get in.
Many students were horrified to discover that their phones had become as useless as bricks. They couldn’t watch livestreams or access forums.
The counselor was nearly losing her mind from anxiety.
She couldn’t send out any notifications or receive messages. There was no way to know the situation of the people outside the dorm buildings.
All the previously connected areas had been cut off from each other, like ice blocks floating on the sea, unable to communicate.
The students huddling indoors gradually noticed—there seemed to be something outside their windows.
The first to sense something was wrong were those in the academic buildings and library closest to the Coffin Lecture Hall.
Quite a few students who had stayed for self-study were now trapped inside those buildings. They gathered together for safety, only to stare helplessly as the dim light outside the windows began to tremble.
“Did my nearsightedness get worse?” one student hesitantly asked. “Why does it look like… the trees outside have turned into people?”
Someone else replied honestly, “I think I might be hallucinating. I feel like there’s someone crawling on the window.”
Someone, braving their fear, stepped forward to get a closer look at what was outside.
He slowly came to a realization—
The reason people thought there was someone outside… was because there was a “person” pressed tightly against the glass!
But that could no longer be called a person.
The corpse’s skin and flesh were torn and curling all over, rotting chunks of meat hanging by threads, ready to fall off. Its face was smeared with thick, clotted blood, obscuring its features. Only a pair of eyes remained visible.
Darkness was the perfect hiding place for the corpse. No one knew how long it had been clinging to the window, its entire body blending seamlessly into the shadows, quietly watching the people inside with lifeless eyes full of greed and malice.
“Th-There’s someone outside!”
The person who checked first was scared out of his wits, stumbling backward and falling to the ground before scrambling to his feet in a panic, retreating clumsily.
The others didn’t know what had happened, but were frightened by his reaction and instinctively backed away as well, running deeper into the building.
Outside the glass, the corpse slowly raised its face, which had been distorted by being pressed against the window. Like a spider, it clung tightly to the building’s exterior with all four limbs, crawling toward the source of the screaming, trying to find a crack to get inside.
To it, the whole building was a gift box filled with fresh, delicious flesh. As long as it could rip the box open, the thriving life inside would be enough for a feast.
And it wasn’t just that one corpse.
If someone had stood within the current Binhai University campus, they would’ve seen that all the roads had turned into a soft, sticky swamp. Blood, thick and riddled with flesh chunks, surged and lapped against the roadbeds and buildings on either side.
One corpse after another climbed over skulls and bones, scrambling out of the sea of blood. With hands already rotten or reduced to bare bone, they clawed tightly at buildings, trying to break in.
Slower corpses sank and floated in the blood sea, reaching out with skeletal hands in unwillingness, trying to grab hold of their departing comrades.
The entire road was covered in dark red blood and scattered flesh. Among it, charred hand bones kept reaching out, desperately pointing toward the outside world, only to be swallowed again by the blood sea. Then came the next hand bone…
Evil spirits bobbed and sank, poking their heads out of the road’s surface.
Their eyes, brimming with the breath of death, hungrily stared at the living world. That greed was unmistakable, oozing from their terrifying, ghostly faces.
The throats of the corpses let out raspy, chilling laughter. Their half-rotted chests moved like broken bellows, making even the sound of laughter become eerie and disturbing.
On the buildings, the corpses were clawing their way up the walls.
But just as they started to move—suddenly, a flash of white light cut through the air.
A blade of sword light came slashing down.
The severed head of the corpse hit the ground, its skull shattered open.
Its movements stopped immediately.
A few seconds later, the entire corpse, now headless, suddenly collapsed and disintegrated into bits of flesh and blood, which fell scattered to the ground.
Taoist Song Yi let out a breath and withdrew his peach wood sword. He pushed off the wall with his cloth shoes and used the momentum to leap back onto a nearby tree branch. His toes tapped lightly on the branch, and after swaying slightly with the movement of the tree, he steadied himself.
He frowned and looked down in disgust.
The corpse he had just slashed to pieces fell into the blood sea below and was immediately swarmed by the outstretched hands of other malicious ghosts. Like fish smelling bait, they scrambled over each other to devour the torn flesh and shattered bones.
And it wasn’t just the ground beneath his feet.
Taoist Song Yi had walked all the way from the main gate, cutting down countless evil spirits with his peach wood sword. He discovered that the entire campus of Binhai University was slowly being consumed by a rising tide of blood.
Near the school gate, the roads remained firm and solid, but the deeper he went, the stranger the paths became.
Especially near the central lecture hall, not a single patch of land was spared. Malicious spirits were crawling everywhere. Even the grove in front of the lecture hall had turned into a forest of corpses.
If he hadn’t been warned in advance by the on-site supervisor who had stayed outside, he might have been caught off guard and fallen into the trap himself.
Once inside the campus, Taoist Song Yi immediately realized what was going on—this was an invasion of ghostly energy.
Usually, ghostly energy so thick it made the very air feel viscous was rare, and even if ordinary people encountered evil spirits, it was still within the realm of the living. But the campus of Binhai University now resembled a literal hell of evil spirits.
After his initial shock, Taoist Song Yi quickly located the people who had lost contact earlier. With his peach wood sword in hand, he carved a path through the horde of vengeful spirits without hesitation. His Taoist robe was soaked in layers of foul-smelling blood by the time he fought his way through and safely escorted the group out of the campus.
When the on-site person in charge saw Taoist Song Yi return, he was completely stunned.
—The Taoist, who had exuded righteousness and the demeanor of a great master before entering, now looked like a blood-drenched demon, even his sideburns tainted with the overwhelming stench.
Had the on-site person in charge not known the situation, he might have thought at first glance that this man was a homicidal maniac.
Taoist Song Yi instructed the on-site person in charge not to enter the campus but instead to secure the perimeter and prevent the ghostly energy from spreading further and endangering more innocent lives.
When the special department’s emergency rescue team arrived, Taoist Song Yi quickly briefed them on the current situation.
The team leader solemnly declared, “Taoist Song Yi, rest assured. If the ghostly energy cannot be contained, then we will use our own bodies to form a human wall! We will not allow it to spread any further and harm others.”
Taoist Song Yi nodded and once again charged back into the campus.
As he approached the area near the lecture hall, where the ghostly energy was densest, he suddenly heard screams coming from within the dim forest.
Young students were so terrified their minds nearly snapped. They screamed desperately at the top of their lungs.
But all that did was attract more ghosts.
The entire forest had turned into a mass grave. The tall trees creaked and rustled, branches shook, and vines dangled down, revealing skeletons that had been hidden beneath the foliage.
“Clatter…”
The vines were torn aside, and skeletons emerged from beneath the trees, moving slowly, step by step, toward the source of the noise.
The young student, panicked and without direction, ran frantically, trying to escape the corpses chasing after him.
But he hadn’t noticed the ground beneath him and was suddenly tripped by the vines spreading across the surface. He fell hard, landing heavily, only to feel a cold and sticky sensation under his palm.
When the student lifted his hand to look, he saw that his palm was smeared with thick, foul-smelling blood.
The stench hit him so strongly he nearly threw up.
But he didn’t have the presence of mind to care about that for long.
Skeletons emerged from behind the trees, shambling toward him from all directions. Their pitch-black, hollow eye sockets silently locked onto him.
The student felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. Hot blood surged through his limbs, but even his brain seemed to shut down. His mind went completely blank.
He tilted his head back, dazed, staring at the approaching skeletons, overwhelmed by hopelessness.
Was he about to be killed…?
Just as he had given up completely, a fierce shout echoed from outside the woods.
“How dare you!”
A peachwood sword flew in, and a yellow talisman was thrown toward the skeletons. The moment it touched a skull, it burst into intense flames with a whoosh!
Taoist Song Yi grabbed the student by the collar and whisked him away, dashing out of the forest of corpses at full speed.
The student stared blankly, eyes wide open, the wind howling past his ears. The air around his nose began to smell fresh again, the scent of blood gradually fading.
Taoist Song Yi, still holding the student, rushed straight toward the nearest academic building. Only after explaining the situation to the on-duty security guard did the cautious guard finally open the door and let the student in.
But even after stepping into the familiar campus building, the young student still felt stunned, as if the whole experience wasn’t real.
Had he… really been saved?
The security guard asked with concern, “Student, are you alright?”
Snapping back to reality, the student suddenly threw his arms around the guard. He no longer cared about pride or appearances and burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, like he was pouring out all the fear of his near-death experience.
He was really, truly saved!
Along the way, Taoist Song Yi encountered many scattered students and security guards who had gone out on patrol only to fall into the clutches of the vengeful spirits.
One by one, he led them to nearby buildings, rescuing them from the ghosts’ pursuit and giving them another chance at life.
But when Taoist Song Yi stood on a tree branch, the wide view suddenly revealed something alarming — a growing concentration of ghostly energy gathering in the distance.
He furrowed his brow. Glancing at the buildings nearby, he hesitated for a moment, then ultimately chose to stay and protect the ordinary students rather than head toward the densest part of the ghost energy.
Even though he knew that only by solving the root cause — the ghost energy — could the situation truly be resolved, the students’ lives still weighed heavily on his conscience.
He could only hope that the other cultivators — and Junior Brother Yan — would go and investigate…
Taoist Song Yi was deeply conflicted.
But as he formed a hand seal and began divining the situation, his expression suddenly changed drastically.
Wait a minute!
Why… was there no trace of Junior Brother Yan’s aura?
The divination showed that Yan Shixun was not within Binhai University — yet it also said he was inside the past version of Binhai University.
This contradiction stunned Taoist Song Yi. Gradually, he realized—
The ghost energy hadn’t just isolated Binhai University — it had likely constructed an entirely different world, one that mirrored the university’s past.
And Yan Shixun was trapped there.
Unfamiliar with the layout of Binhai University, Taoist Song Yi didn’t realize that the area filled with ghostly energy he hadn’t yet investigated…
…was actually the Chemistry Department’s experimental building.
Meanwhile, a young man stepped forward and began climbing the stairs.
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