Chapter 169: No Way Back on This Journey (19)
Due to the incident on the highway, the entire stretch had been temporarily sealed off by the authorities.
The rescue team, along with several Taoist priests from Haiyun Temple, carried out a thorough search of the entire road and the surrounding forested mountains, hoping to uncover any trace of a clue.
But the results left them disappointed.
It was as if the show’s production convoy had suddenly veered off onto another path, without any abnormal events occurring in between—completely unlike a typical missing persons case or a car accident scene, which would at least leave behind some evidence.
Taoist Yang Xuhu furrowed his brows as he calculated using his fingers, but the more he calculated, the stranger it all seemed. “Something’s not right. By all logic, even if a living person stepped onto the Yin Path, it wouldn’t happen so easily. How could the production team end up on the Yin Path?”
For centuries, the production team wasn’t the first to encounter the Yin Path.
But based on past records, even when the path walked by living people overlapped with the Yin Path, it wasn’t like one would naturally just step onto it.
Most people would simply feel cold—uncomfortable on a physical level due to the proximity of ghostly energy.
Even those born with lingering spiritual sensitivity would merely be more attuned to sensing spirits, vaguely realizing that they might have wandered into the wrong place.
But never had anyone disappeared from the real world without a sound like this production team had.
Taoist Yang Xuhu was so troubled he yanked out one of his precious beard hairs, prompting another nearby Taoist—who was also using a compass to determine direction—to glance over with curiosity.
“I heard from Taoist Ma that Taoist Song’s little disciple was part of this show too. Didn’t we just see that disciple encountering underworld soldiers borrowing the road?”
That Taoist said, “That little disciple does have some innate talent. Could it be because of him that the production team’s convoy ended up on the Yin Path?”
“I’ve met that little disciple,” Yang Xuhu replied. “He’s an official disciple of Taoist Song, but he hasn’t completed his training yet. His talent is just decently good—not extraordinary enough to cause all of this. To the eyes that discern yin and yang, he isn’t significant enough.”
Yang Xuhu sighed. “The Yin Path isn’t something one can just casually enter.”
Just look at how hard they were struggling to even locate the entrance to the Yin Path in order to rescue the production team.
Between heaven and earth, the Great Dao existed—an underlying order that governed all things.
Since the Dao had already delineated the realms of life and death, the two fundamentally different states were kept separate: the living remained in the human world, while the dead proceeded to the underworld, where they would be judged and sent into reincarnation or punished in hell.
Therefore, even when a living person encountered a strong concentration of ghostly energy, it usually just harmed their health or even threatened their life—it didn’t… drag them into the world of the dead.
Not to mention, the Yin Path this time was even more bizarre than any previous situation the Taoists had investigated.
In the past, it was merely a case of underworld soldiers borrowing the road. But this time… the ghostly energy had formed an entirely separate world, even pulling people from the highway into it.
Yang Xuhu felt a deep unease: what had caused this anomaly?
He silently went over every possible cause in his mind. Suddenly, he realized something and let out a surprised “Ah!”
The Taoist next to him looked over.
Yang Xuhu’s brows were tightly knit. “The Yin Path is drawn out by souls who died with unresolved grievances. And just now, I heard from Taoist Ma that the production team that entered the Yin Path had previously encountered trouble.”
The Taoist beside him nodded, unfazed. “The timing and location of that university student’s death were indeed quite the coincidence—right at a key node of the Yin Path. On top of that, the mountain meant to reinforce the Yin Path, Gui Mountain, had just been cleared of ghost energy. So the Yin Path followed that student’s soul.”
“Speaking of Gui Mountain…”
The Taoist paused for a moment, as a memory surfaced. “The hidden Ghost Mountain beneath Gui Mountain was exactly where the production team happened to be during the cleansing.”
Yang Xuhu looked over in confusion.
The other Taoist explained, “We weren’t the ones handling that event—it was Taoist Li and Taoist Song. But my disciple was among those assigned to clean up the remaining ghost energy afterward, so I heard a bit.”
“When they were at Gui Mountain, the production team also took the wrong path. They were supposed to head up Gui Mountain, but somehow ended up on the concealed Ghost Mountain below.”
Yang Xuhu: …
So once again, they’d taken the wrong road. Instead of a proper highway, they chose the Yin Path.
Just then, another Taoist leaped lightly through the treetops of the forest and landed back on the highway.
He brushed the leaves off his robe with a sigh and reported that there was no trace of the missing crew at the location he’d checked, not even the faintest sign seen in the livestream. It was a dead end—not the entrance to the Yin Path.
After hearing the last few lines of the two Taoist priests’ conversation, another Taoist casually remarked, “Oh, that? Didn’t Taoist Li find the disciple of Hermit Chengyun? When I returned to the temple earlier, I noticed many of our junior brothers were discussing it, saying that the disciple had remarkable potential.”
The two priests immediately turned their attention toward him, turning their heads to stare.
The Taoist felt a chill run down his spine, thinking he had said something wrong.
“If I remember correctly, that disciple of Hermit Chengyun has the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation.”
The Taoist said gently, “It’s actually quite fascinating—someone with a Evil Spirit Bone Transformation is accompanied by a person with a ghost-attracting constitution.”
Before being assigned to investigate the Yin path due to his expertise in Qimen Dunjia, this Taoist, like the others in the temple, used to handle the occasional requests for help that were sent to the temple—for instance, someone being haunted or encountering evil spirits.
During that period, the Zhang family had frequently visited Haiyun Temple, utterly distressed over the youngest child in their family who was nearly killed from being haunted by a vicious ghost. They had begged the temple’s priests to save the child and help him grow up safely.
As a result, this Taoist had met the young Zhang Wubing.
At the time, Zhang Wubing wasn’t even called Zhang Wubing. His name was Zhang Xiaogou(little dog).
—Old Master Zhang had said, “A humble name raises a child well.”
Later, after the Taoist helped purge the ghostly aura from Zhang Wubing and drove off the evil spirit surrounding him, he looked at the child’s flushed cheeks, reddened from fever, and felt a pang of sympathy. He advised Father Zhang that a name is a parent’s greatest blessing to their child, and if they gave a proper name, it would strengthen their bond and help keep the child safe.
Children were especially vulnerable to ghostly influences due to their unstable souls and could easily die young.
The Taoist could see that this was a pure soul—someone who had likely accumulated great merit in a past life. However, in order to protect others, they had done something that deviated from the secular world, resulting in a constitution that attracted ghosts. And yet, they had been reborn into a wealthy and kind family, where everyone loved and cherished them.
Back then, the Taoist was still young. Though his powers were limited and he couldn’t divine the child’s previous life, he couldn’t bear the thought of a soul that had performed such great deeds being cut short. So, out of compassion, he offered the Zhang family as much help as he could.
After hearing the Taoist’s explanation, Father Zhang had a moment of epiphany.
—One conversation with a wise man is worth more than ten years of study.
So, after pondering for a full month, Father Zhang finally gave his child a proper name.
“Let’s call him Zhang Wubing then—free from illness and disaster, and safe for life.”
That was what Father Zhang said.
From then on, Zhang Xiaogou became Zhang Wubing, carrying with him the heartfelt blessings of his elders and living on to this day.
—Although Old Master Zhang always disliked the name, thinking Father Zhang lacked culture.
“What kind of name is Wubing? What a terrible name! If it were up to me, he’d be called Zhang Huozhe—(Zhang Alive).”
That name had a deeper meaning: alive until death!
But Mother Zhang, who had originally been unhappy with the name “Wubing” and suspected her husband might be seriously ill to come up with something like that, immediately agreed to the name “Zhang Wubing” after hearing Old Master Zhang’s suggestion.
The rest of the Zhang family silently showed their support for Father Zhang as well.
Old Master Zhang: ?? Feeling attacked. What’s wrong with “Alive”? It sounds great!
Because of this karmic connection between the Taoist and the Zhang family, he was familiar with Zhang Wubing. So when Taoist Ma introduced the show’s production team as the ones involved in the incident, he quickly recognized the director as Zhang Wubing.
The same child who had once struggled to survive among evil ghosts.
After hearing this Taoist’s story, the expressions of the two other priests froze.
One almost dropped his compass, and the other yanked out a strand of his own beard.
The goatee-bearded Taoist’s expression was practically horrified: “An Evil Spirit Bone Transformation??? AnEvil Spirit Bone Transformation???”
The Taoist nodded, smiling as he sighed, “Funny how fate works—every time that kid Zhang Wubing faces danger, he somehow escapes from certain death. I guess it’s true: ‘Where misfortune lurks, blessings follow.’”
The two Taoists exchanged glances, and the fog clouding their thoughts gradually lifted.
They finally realized why the production crew had so effortlessly found the Yin path, while the rest of them had been searching in vain.
—It was entirely because of that director!
Just driving down a highway and they were already seeing the Yin path? There was no other explanation.
The Taoist quickly steadied his compass and echoed, “By the Three Pure Ones! The fact that this director is still alive is nothing short of a miracle.”
“But if the director isn’t nearby, it’s going to be hard to pinpoint the exact location of the Yin path.”
The Taoist let out a sigh.
Unlike things visible to the naked eye for ordinary people, the yin path was not a tangible road. Even if someone happened to see it, that didn’t mean they could successfully step onto it.
It was a path that didn’t physically exist. Only if someone calculated the exact moment and precise direction of its appearance, and then happened to step into that space within that single millisecond—while also aligning with the prevailing five-element influences—could they enter the yin path.
The Taoist had experienced this before. No matter how he calculated it, that direction was always the same. But when he walked over, he still couldn’t see the path.
Later, they finally discovered why—the correct direction happened to be a tree.
And every attempt they had made previously, they had gone around the tree, passing by it rather than through it.
Only when they split the tree open and walked directly through its center did they manage to step onto the yin path.
Because of how grueling those past experiences had been, the Taoist couldn’t help but feel amazed when he heard the other taoist mention Zhang Wubing.
This kid was practically a ghost-finding compass—better than any magical instrument.
The Taoist couldn’t help but say, “I wonder if that Director Zhang Wubing might be interested in cultivating the Dao.”
The other Taoist. “Huh?”
He said sincerely, “I doubt his elders would agree. Their only hope for that child is just for him to stay alive.”
As for cultivating Dao, or participating in shows—that really wasn’t anything the Zhang family cared about.
The Taoist sighed regretfully and nodded. “Being able to attract ghosts with such precision is a skill in itself.”
The Taoist with the goatee couldn’t hold back and blurted, “Blessings be upon us from the Limitless Heavenly Lord!”
He was jealous!
It was like carrying a built-in GPS. If he had that kind of constitution, wouldn’t finding the yin path be twice as efficient with half the effort?
While the Taoists were scouring the mountains trying to locate the missing guests and the exact coordinates of the yin path, one of the female guests was just beginning to regain consciousness.
When she opened her eyes, she instinctively let out a pained cry. She had been trying to sit up, but the sharp pain in her neck forced her back down again.
She blinked a few times, and her vision gradually cleared.
The first thing she noticed was the smell—of rot and moisture in the forest.
A cold dampness, earthy and musty, seeped up from the ground beneath her and spread across her body like fingers gripping her tightly.
She realized she was lying in a forest. Looking up, all she could see were towering trees, so dense they blocked out the sky.
This puzzled her.
Though the pain in her neck and the back of her head left her mind foggy and unable to think clearly, she remembered one thing distinctly—she had been in a car.
The accident had happened so suddenly. Just moments before, everyone had been laughing and chatting. Then, in an instant, everything turned to chaos. No one had expected it.
As the car flipped, she remembered feeling her whole body get thrown from her seat. The crisp sound of shattering glass was the last thing she heard before blacking out.
And there had been the shouts of the other guests—calling each other’s names.
They really did care about each other… Even in such a life-threatening moment, they still had the presence of mind to worry about others, calling out to each other rather than crying for help themselves.
Listening to the panic and concern in their voices, she had felt a mix of admiration and sorrow.
But also resentment. Why hadn’t anyone called her name? Why hadn’t anyone cared about her?
Wasn’t she there too? Weren’t they supposed to be teammates? She was part of the group as well, wasn’t she?
With those thoughts in her mind, she opened her mouth to call out for help. “Help me…”
But as soon as the words left her lips, a wave of intense pain surged through her abdomen, as though her internal organs were being twisted and crushed.
She must have collided with something metal.
Maybe the seatback. Maybe a piece of the car’s frame… She didn’t know.
The agony and fear overwhelmed her entirely. Her vision went black again—and she passed out.
When she woke up again, there were no cars around, and no one else in sight.
The female guest struggled to sit up from where she had been lying.
She held her neck with one hand, feeling as if her head might fall off—it hurt that much.
As she silently cursed the production team for not caring about her, she turned her head to look around.
There was no one in the forest. Only dim light filtered through the tangled branches overhead, and behind the cold mist, it seemed as if shadowy ghosts were hidden. The interplay of light and shadow made it hard to see clearly.
There were no bird calls, no sounds of animals.
It was as if everything had already died.
The female guest didn’t take much notice of that. After venting some of her anger and frustration inwardly, she simply tried to stand up from the ground.
She still remembered that she had been struck in the abdomen before losing consciousness. Trembling, she pressed her hand to her lower belly to check if she had been injured.
To her relief, aside from some light bruising, there didn’t seem to be any serious injuries.
It was her neck that felt the worst—she must have hit something during the car’s roll.
As she rubbed her neck absentmindedly, her thoughts drifted along without direction.
But just as she resentfully brushed off the dirt sticking to her clothes—thinking how these were new pieces sent by a top brand this season—she suddenly froze.
In moments of extreme fear, the instinct to survive overpowered everything. The brain redirected all attention to the single task of staying alive, pushing the body to its limits. All other thoughts were temporarily suppressed according to the brain’s prioritization.
Only once the immediate danger passed would the brain begin processing what had been put on hold.
And now, with her mind finally catching up despite the pain and fear, she realized something was very wrong
Even if the car had rolled over, and she had been flung through the shattered glass, she should have landed on a road, or maybe a field.
So why… was she on a mountain?
The more she thought about it, the more terrifying it became.
Cold mist crept through her clothes, making her shiver. Her gaze, as she looked around again, was filled with growing horror.
She looked around frantically, then, as if afraid something might appear, quickly stumbled away from where she had been, clinging to a nearby tree to steady her body weakened by fear, desperate to get out of the forest.
Once she realized something was wrong, the thought took root in her heart like a seed, sprouting and growing rapidly until it became a towering tree.
Terror burst forth from within.
The female guest was no longer the indifferent person she had been moments ago—now she was on edge, fearful of everything. Her beautiful eyes brimmed with fright as she desperately prayed to come across another guest.
Anyone would do, as long as they could protect her!
Even that annoying Yan Shixun would be fine—better if he showed up right now.
As if her prayer had worked.
She had only taken a few steps when, through the bushes and tree branches in the distance, she vaguely saw a figure standing under a tree.
The thick fog made it hard to see clearly, but she could make out that it was a tall man standing with his back to her.
The female guest thought it might even be the Yan Shixun she didn’t like—or perhaps it looked a bit like Lu Xingxing.
Why was it always the people she didn’t want who showed up?
She complained inwardly. Why couldn’t it be Zhao Zhen? He at least looked dependable and had a good temper.
But… forget it.
Given the current situation, she couldn’t afford to be picky. Even though she would have preferred someone else, Yan Shixun would do. Having someone there was better than wandering this mountain alone.
With that thought, she smiled and picked up her pace, jogging forward. “Hey…”
But after a few steps, as she got closer and could see more clearly, she started to feel something was off.
So strange…
The man’s clothes looked completely covered in mud—filthy, with torn patches here and there.
Had he been flung into the mud by the crash? Or had he fallen while stumbling through the forest and ended up in that state?
But that thought only flashed through the female guest’s mind before it was quickly drowned out by the joy of having found her companion.
Seeing that the man ahead didn’t respond to her call, the female guest instinctively reached out to pat his shoulder, wanting to show a friendly, familiar attitude.
But the moment her fingers touched him, she sensed something was wrong.
His body temperature wasn’t like that of a normal person.
He was cold—hard—carrying the chilling dampness of someone who had just risen from the soil. There was no vitality in him, none of the reassurance one felt upon finding a companion.
Instead, a wave of icy cold radiated from the man’s body, seeping from her fingertips straight into her heart.
It felt as if Death had reached out and grabbed her.
The female guest shivered, instinctively stepping back half a pace. Her outstretched hand quickly recoiled.
Because of the change in position, her gaze naturally fell upon the man’s back.
Then she froze.
From just a dozen centimeters away, she could clearly see details that had been obscured by fog and dim light earlier.
For example, the bruised, purplish skin peeking out from beneath the man’s tattered clothes—blotchy with dried blood, devoid of warmth, lacking the healthy sheen of a living being.
Or how the sleeve on his arm had long rotted away, along with the flesh beneath, revealing patches of decayed skin and the faint outline of a stark-white arm bone protruding from within.
And even… the writhing clusters of pale maggots crawling out of the festering wounds on his arm.
The female guest took just one glance and nearly vomited from the disgust.
She stood frozen, unsure of how to react.
She wanted to turn and run, but her stiffened muscles betrayed her. Her calves trembled violently, even cramping, yet her body remained rooted to the spot.
She wanted to quietly turn around and leave, but fear clutched her heart. Her tension peaked, and the rush of blood left her chilled to the core. Her mind went blank—there was nothing but a loud buzzing in her ears. She could no longer respond.
So, the female guest could only stare helplessly as the man standing directly in front of her slowly turned his head.
He had been standing beneath the tree with his back to her. Vines crawled down from the nearby tree, slithering along the ground and wrapping around the man’s legs—both supporting him and ensnaring him, refusing to let him leave this place easily.
Her arrival had shattered the man’s despairing stasis.
His movements were stiff, mechanical, as he turned his head toward the presence of yang energy behind him.
A face covered in bruises and riddled with corpse spots entered the female guest’s view.
No one knew how long this man had been dead. His corpse had rotted away in the deserted forest, his soul wandering aimlessly, unable to escape the labyrinthine woods.
Until the ghostly energy spread and dragged his lifeless body into a hellish abyss, seizing even his soul and slowly pulling it into a swamp from which there was no escape.
The man opened his mouth as if trying to say something to her.
But his stiff muscles could no longer support his will. Only raspy breaths and the clacking of bones could be heard.
H-help… help me.
Let me die. Let my soul find peace.
Don’t… don’t leave me in the same hell as those evil ghosts.
From beneath his clouded eyeballs, streaks of bloody tears began to ooze.
The female guest’s eyes were filled with terror.
Just as the man tried to reach out to grab her, she finally managed to seize back control of her body through sheer desperation.
Letting out a scream, she immediately turned and ran, stumbling in panic and fear.
“G-ghost! A ghost!!”
Her voice trembled. In her panic, she bit her tongue, drawing blood. “Help… help…”
Her sharp cries echoed through the deathly silent forest.
In the dimness with no light, vines spread across the ground and trees. Amid the dead branches and thick fog, skeletons hidden beneath the trees began to emerge one by one.
They turned their skulls, long devoid of flesh, toward the direction of the sound, hollow black sockets staring blankly. Their jawbones clacked together, making a chilling “clack… clack” sound.
Joints opened and closed. Ghastly whispers drifted through the darkness.
The vines that had once coiled around the skeletons slowly retreated. Leaves fell onto their rib cages, pierced by bony joints, crumbling silently into dust and scattering in the air.
Their toe bones stepped onto the damp, cold soil. In that instant, the grass and plants beneath their feet withered and died.
The skeletons swayed and staggered out from the forest, heading toward the source of the sound.
“Clack!”
“Clack…”
The faint rustling and creaking echoed through the mountain woods.
But the terrified female guest running for her life heard none of those subtle sounds.
In her ears, there was only the sound of wind and her pounding heartbeat.
For a moment, she even doubted whether she was still alive—was her heart really still inside her chest? How could a heartbeat be this fast?
Why did she have to go through this? Why couldn’t it just be a nightmare, one that would end the moment she opened her eyes and everything would return to normal?
She panicked, desperately wanting to escape.
But reality was cruel.
The things she least wanted to face always became real.
As she ran, the female guest kept looking back, trying to see if that corpse-like thing behind her was chasing her.
But she had forgotten to watch her feet—or what lay ahead.
She only felt the tip of her foot kick against something, and before she could even react, her body was suddenly hurled forward, as if weightless. It was a disorienting sensation, like her heart was about to lurch out of her throat along with her unbalanced body.
Panicking, the female guest twisted her gaze forward. Her arm instinctively reached out to the side, trying to grab onto something.
But all her hand found was something ice-cold.
It carried a bone-deep chill.
“Crack!”
A crisp shattering sound rang out, like bones being forcibly snapped apart.
The momentum she had briefly halted by grabbing onto something instantly gave way, and her body slammed down into the mud once more.
“Thump!”
Dry branches cracked under her weight, letting out a sound that made one’s teeth ache.
In her hand, she still clutched a fragment of something. Her head was spinning from the fall, completely dazed for a long while before her vision finally cleared again.
There was no time to stand up—still in her collapsed posture, she twisted around to look behind her.
A deathly pale skeleton stood not far from her back, looking down at her from above with its eyeless sockets fixed directly on her.
But one of the ribs in its chest had already been snapped.
The fresh break was sharp like a blade and still littered with bits of crushed bone. It looked disturbingly grotesque.
A chill shot through her heart as she suddenly remembered what she had grabbed earlier.
Instinctively, she lowered her head and looked at her hand, trembling as she slowly opened her palm.
There, lying in her grasp—was a broken bone.
The skeleton silently stared at the woman lying on the ground, then moved its bony legs and began to walk toward her.
At the same time, in the dim woods all around, the same sound echoed again and again.
It was like the footsteps of death drawing near.
Each step seemed to crush directly on the beat of a living heart.
One after another, they deepened the fear.
Having believed she might be saved several times only to end up fleeing in terror, the female guest was mentally and physically exhausted. She could only watch helplessly as the skeleton approached her, step by step, growing closer with every heartbeat, and despair consumed her.
She had only come on this show because her manager claimed it could bring in fans and popularity, helping her break into the top-tier circles. So, reluctantly, she agreed to participate.
She had seen the risk warning notice sent by the production team and had watched the DVD with some past livestream clips. She even read the note Zhang Wubing had included: “If you feel you can handle the level of danger and are willing to accept the risks, then decide whether to join.” But she had scoffed at all of it.
She figured the director was a newbie, timid due to inexperience. And even if there had been danger before, could it really happen every time?
She was famous in the industry for being a “lucky koi”—many people envied the incredible fortune she had enjoyed since birth. How could anything go wrong just from joining a variety show?
With that mindset, she joined the program.
But what she had never expected was a situation like this.
Now, as despair flooded her, she cursed her manager and Zhang Wubing in her mind, but there was nothing she could do. She could only watch as the skeleton kept moving closer and closer.
Waiting to die was the most agonizing, hopeless thing.
Just when her sanity was on the verge of collapse, a sudden thud rang out.
A spherical object was thrown from a distance, flying straight toward the skeleton’s skull.
With a crisp crack, the entire skeleton began to crumble, starting from the skull.
First was the hardest part of the body and the seat of the spirit—the skullcap—then the cervical bones, then the ribs…
White dust scattered through the air like powder, landing all over the female guest.
She was stunned.
The spherical object that had shattered the skeleton rolled along the ground with a soft clatter, finally bumping into the guest’s shoe and coming to a stop.
Only then did the woman clearly see what the “ball” really was.
—Another skull.
A fleshless head with no body, round and lonely like a smooth, pale ball.
Its hollow black eye sockets stared straight up at her.
Her overloaded brain couldn’t process what had just happened. She could only instinctively follow the path the skull had traveled, turning her head to look behind her.
A small child stood there, dressed in a tiny suit with suspender pants. His soft cheeks were rosy and fair, making him look adorably sweet.
He tilted his head, flashing a bright smile.
“Hey, big sister who badmouthed Yan Yan,” the child said innocently, his voice soft and sweet. “Why are you sitting on the ground?”
Tears still clung to the corners of the woman’s eyes. She hadn’t yet recovered from the terror.
She watched as the child trotted toward her, his little leather shoes stepping across the muddy ground without picking up a single speck of dirt.
It was as if… all the ghostly aura around them had submitted to him, unwilling to offend him in the slightest.
The child paid no mind to the female guest’s gaze. He bent down and picked up the smooth skull beside her, cradling it in both small hands, then stood back up with a sweet, delighted smile—like he was simply happy to have retrieved a beloved toy.
All around, silence fell.
Every faint noise from earlier vanished completely. Even the rustling of vines and clacking of bones quieted down.
It was as though the malevolent spirits, who had just been playing with human lives like puppets, were now terrified of the child who had appeared, not daring to draw near.
Some of them even seemed to want to turn and flee, to avoid this presence that stirred fear deep within their souls.
They resented the ghostly energy that trapped them like a cage, depriving them of freedom—but at the same time, they drew power from it. They were already too far gone to break free.
But this ghost… this one that had arrived…
The female guest, a living person, couldn’t see it.
But the already-dead evil spirits and malevolent beings could clearly see the immense, ocean-like ghostly aura gathered behind the child, churning violently.
Even though the child was small, the shadow behind him blocked out the sky.
A childish face stretched into a chilling smile.
That wasn’t a shadow.
How could the dead cast a shadow?
It was… ghostly energy so thick and concentrated in the child’s soul that it formed a false body, mimicking the appearance of a living being to walk among men.
It had cycled through countless lifetimes of death and rebirth, gathered endless resentment—this being, in itself, was hell.
A terrifying pressure bore down from above. Skeletons trembled in fear, shaking with dread.
At that moment, a new hunter had entered the game—and the old hunters were now prey, scrambling to escape.
Jing Xiaobao hugged the skull, his small hands casually resting on the bone. He narrowed his eyes and let out a cheerful giggle.
“Geehee.”
The female guest was stunned for quite a while before she finally managed to find her voice. “You… aren’t you the one from the show crew—Yan Shixun’s younger brother?”
Jing Xiaobao blinked and dragged out his voice in mock surprise. “Huh—you actually think I’m Yan-Yan’s little brother?”
“Nope~ I could be his grandpa!”
With Yan Shixun not present, Jing Xiaobao dared to speak boldly.
But the moment he said it, he shrank his neck and glanced nervously around. Only after confirming Yan Shixun wasn’t nearby did he let out a breath of relief.
“Fine.” Jing Xiaobao pouted, clearly annoyed as he reluctantly admitted, “He kinda counts as half my dad.”
The female guest was completely confused.
A grandpa calling his grandson his dad… What the heck? What kind of nonsense was this?
“If Yan hadn’t said someone like you was worth saving, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
Unlike adults who needed to consider relationships, the child spoke plainly. His own power gave him the confidence to do so.
“You talked bad about Yan in the car just now. Xiao Bao doesn’t like you.”
Jing Xiaobao lifted his chin and huffed. “But if you die, Yan would definitely spank me, and Brother Dabing’s show would fall apart too. Don’t get the wrong idea—it’s not like I want to save you.”
“Actually…”
The child tilted his head, hugging the smooth skull like it was a beloved ball. His eyes were innocent, but his words were chilling. “If you died, that would be even more fun.”
For a split second, the female guest felt her scalp go numb.
She had a feeling… he meant it.
Jing Xiaobao quickly lost interest in the terrified woman. He turned his head toward the dark forest, excitement rising in his large, bright eyes.
“If it weren’t for you all, I wouldn’t have to hold my nose and save people. It’s all your fault!”
With a childish voice full of spite, Jing Xiaobao scolded, “If it weren’t for you, Yan wouldn’t have a reason to spank me. It’s all your fault!”
The skeletons, nearly desperate to vanish into the ground: …?
Even in death, they found themselves suffocated by this childish and willful ghost.
What kind of logic was this?
But among ghosts, power spoke the loudest.
The strong ruled, and the strongest… became king.
Jing Xiaobao soon giggled again. “So, I’ll punish you all by making you play with me~”
“If I have fun, I’ll kill you. If I don’t…” Jing Xiaobao tilted his head and said softly, “I’ll eat you, okay?”
The skeletons trembled. The clinking of bones sounded in the quiet.
Driven by fear, they turned and tried to flee.
But Jing Xiaobao narrowed his eyes with a smile. “Aww~ it’s hide-and-seek!”
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