Chapter 891 858 Lunatic

In the depths of the prison cell, Zhang Qing and Wan Tong heard the second chime of the clock. This time, however, the time within the old mansion did not reset but advanced forward.

Advancing forward didn’t seem to change much. The two retained their memories.

But the chime brought an unimaginable, eerie transformation to the cell.

The previously empty desk now bizarrely had a shadowy figure seated before it.

The figure had their head slightly bowed, seemingly writing something into the notebook on the desk. Thick, black ink smeared across the page, forming rows of indistinct characters as the sound of scratching filled the silence around them.

This noise immediately caught the attention of the two.

They instinctively stiffened and cautiously turned toward the desk.

“Could it be human? There wasn’t anyone there earlier—it must have appeared after the clock chimed…” Wan Tong’s throat moved as he stared intently at the figure by the desk.

Zhang Qing began to observe carefully.

The person sitting at the desk seemed middle-aged, perhaps in their forties or fifties, with greying hair and yellowed, emaciated hands. Everything about them was fixed in a nearly rigid, corpse-like posture as they continued writing. Though nothing overtly strange could be seen at first glance, upon closer inspection, every detail exuded an indescribable eeriness.

Judging by the situation, the person seemed to have been here for a long time—an eternity, even—as if they had never left this place.

But the conditions of the mansion were wholly unsuitable for human survival. Even those afflicted by the Pendulum Clock curse seldom stayed here long—they would leave quickly when faced with danger.

“Whether it’s human or not, there’s something very wrong. We should leave now,” Zhang Qing said gravely.

In such an environment, nothing could be considered normal; everything was tied to haunting supernatural terror.

If not for searching for the Pendulum Clock while evading Yang Jian’s pursuit, they wouldn’t have come to this place at all.

“You should check it out. Maybe it’s an old ghost handler who got lost here. If you uncover clues, it might be helpful for you all,” Liu Baimu’s severed head suddenly spoke up, directing his attention toward the figure.

“Even if it’s an old ghost handler, chances are they’re long dead. They might even be a true vengeful spirit now. Approaching recklessly would be extremely risky,” Zhang Qing hesitated and replied.

“If we don’t have clues, it doesn’t matter. As long as we survive and avoid Yang Jian’s pursuit, all will be fine.”

His ambitions were modest; he didn’t dare to harbor unrealistic hopes.

“Naïve, truly naïve. Rivalries among ghost handlers are life-and-death struggles,” sneered Liu Baimu. “If you don’t uncover the secrets of this mansion, you won’t have the leverage to fight Yang Jian. Once you leave this place, Yang Jian will keep hunting you. He’s already killed you once before; to him, you’re already on his death list.”

“You might end up finding yourselves on the global wanted list when you go out. At that point, it’ll just be a matter of time before you’re finished.”

“Liu Baimu is right.” Wan Tong nodded in agreement.

Zhang Qing’s expression shifted slightly. He had considered this possibility before but had avoided thinking deeper about it. He also understood that Liu Baimu had his own motives—he wanted to use them to locate the Pendulum Clock and restart time to bring himself back to life.

Everyone had their own agenda.

But the general aim was the same: survival.

“Then let’s check it out.” Zhang Qing took a deep breath, letting Liu Baimu and Wan Tong’s words change his mind.

“If we’re attacked by a vengeful spirit, we’ll retreat immediately.”

Wan Tong nodded.

Liu Baimu’s severed head remained silent.

When faced with an unmanageable danger, fleeing was the only option.

As they cautiously approached.

The eerie man sitting at the desk suddenly paused his writing. He raised his head slightly and looked toward the trio.

To their surprise, though the man raised his head, his eyes remained shut.

His complexion was pale, though the nearby yellowed desk lamp obscured this detail slightly.

“Stop.”

Their hearts lurched, and they immediately froze.

The man’s awareness seemed drawn by their movement, but when they stopped, he appeared to fall back into a calm state.

They were now quite close.

Zhang Qing could even make out the contents of the notebook in front of the man.

The previously fragmented text, akin to ciphertext, was now clear enough to read.

Written in the notebook was a single line: Whoever reads this notebook, please close it immediately. This notebook is cursed. Do not open it again.

The message felt like a warning, yet also a plea for help.

Zhang Qing and Wan Tong paused upon reading this sentence, a wave of unnamed unease washing over them.

Moments ago, they had boldly rifled through the desk, unaware that the notebook was a cursed object.

Though they didn’t know the nature of the curse, they knew it could only bring harm.

“Follow the instructions and close it. Let’s see what happens,” Liu Baimu’s head advised immediately.

“This is reckless. It could be a trap. That man is clearly abnormal—if we touch the notebook, what if a vengeful spirit attacks us?” Zhang Qing hesitated, unwilling to take the risk.

Deep down, he feared death.

And those under the Pendulum Clock curse were known for their cowardice, always acting timidly and never making waves.

“You are ghost handlers. Even if a spirit attacks you, it doesn’t mean you’ll die. What are you afraid of?”

Liu Baimu scoffed, “Close the notebook and see what happens. We need to uncover the mansion’s secrets—if we do nothing, we’ll never gain control of this place.”

“If I still had a body, I wouldn’t need the help of you two. Looks like Yang Jian made the right call to kill me first, then slowly deal with you two. He knows you’re worthless and pose no threat.”

“Liu Baimu, don’t provoke me. I’m not truly scared of vengeful spirits attacking—I just don’t want to end up stuck in a bind,” Zhang Qing retorted.

Though hesitant, he wasn’t entirely foolish.

“So are you doing it or not?” Liu Baimu pressed.

Zhang Qing’s eyes flickered, his indecision clear.

Wan Tong interjected, “We’re already at this point—might as well give it a shot. Liu Baimu’s right. If things go south, we just run. After all, we’re not responsible ghost handlers who have to resolve paranormal events. Running away is always an option for us.”

As he spoke, he began to act.

Carefully reaching for the cursed notebook in front of the eerie man, he closed it gently.

The notebook felt unnervingly cold in his grasp, like touching the lifeless body of a corpse.

Quickly.

Wan Tong set the notebook back on the desk without daring to take it.

Once the notebook was closed.

The pen-wielding man with shut eyes unexpectedly opened them.

His gaze was vacant at first, but over time, an unnatural glint of awareness began to emerge.

A chilling smile stretched across his stiff face.

“Damn it! We shouldn’t have touched the notebook,” Zhang Qing’s face paled, bracing himself for an imminent ghost attack.

“Wrong. You should’ve touched it. If not, how else could I return to the present?” The eerie man suddenly spoke, his tone carrying a trace of joy.

He spoke?

If he could talk, perhaps he was human.

Zhang Qing relaxed slightly and asked, “Who are you?”

“Just an unlucky soul lost within this mansion. This desk and notebook are traps—every person who enters here feels compelled to read the notebook, but doing so traps them. They can’t escape unless the correct person arrives at the correct time,” the middle-aged man replied as he slowly stood up.

He seemed to have been sitting in that chair for an eternity, his bones creaking loudly as he stretched.

Zhang Qing and Wan Tong instinctively backed away from him, their vigilance heightened.

The man’s attire was markedly out of place—his styling suggested he was from the 1980s.

If that were true.

Then he had been trapped here for decades…

But was it possible for an ordinary person to survive such a long time?

Even top-tier ghost handlers couldn’t endure being trapped for decades.

“Hmm?”

Suddenly, the strange man’s gaze shifted. He locked onto Liu Baimu’s severed head.

“Interesting… Using the Pendulum Clock curse to interfere with your own time, delaying your death. Yet, with no body, you won’t live much longer. Still, that wound on your neck…”

The middle-aged man strode closer, snatching Liu Baimu’s head by the hair to examine the injury.

Unexpectedly.

The man let out a cold laugh, “Fascinating. That wound—it was made by the Firewood Knife. So someone did manage to take that cursed item after all.”

“It was taken by someone named Yang Jian. His alias is Ghost Eye—he’s the Dachang City’s regional leader. We’re being hunted by his team,” Liu Baimu responded without hesitation, adding quickly, “If you help me, I can assist you in reclaiming that supernatural item.”

Liu Baimu had deduced that this freed man must have deep knowledge of paranormal phenomena, as he could recognize the blade’s origin with just a glance.

“Yang Jian? I like the name. I used to know a Yang once—a troublesome fellow. Wonder if he’s dead now,” the man mused grimly. “You want me to kill him for you, but I’ve got more pressing matters at hand.”

“What generation is the Wang Family on now?”

“Third. The current heir is Wang Chaling, regional leader of Dadong City—a Captain Level figure,” Liu Baimu answered briskly, seeing no point in withholding information.

At this moment, cooperation seemed to be the only way to increase the odds of survival.

“So, the kid who studied abroad ended up taking his father’s path and leading the Wang Family’s third generation. Only the third? Seems I haven’t been trapped as long as I thought,” the man remarked.

Liu Baimu felt a chill.

It was as he suspected. This individual wasn’t from their era of ghost handlers—a relic of a bygone generation.

He had researched related intelligence before—though ghost resurgence was recent, there were records of people interacting with vengeful spirits 20 years ago. Back then, the information was limited and incidents weren’t severe, so they weren’t given much attention. Only urban legends and half-truths remained.

Most of those stories were dismissed as bedtime tales rather than evidence.

“How amusing. You’re searching for the Pendulum Clock and managed to stumble into this haunted dungeon. This place is the Wang Family’s prison, where their successive generations confined vengeful spirits. Judging by your state, you haven’t found the clock,” the middle-aged man sneered.

“Do you know where the Pendulum Clock is?” Zhang Qing asked urgently.

“Of course—it’s within this mansion,” the man responded.

“…”

That was infuriatingly obvious.

The man added, “The Pendulum Clock is unreachable by ordinary means. It doesn’t exist in the present—it resides in the past. Only those who command the ability to restart time, or those using a vengeful spirit’s power to reset, can locate it.”

“So that’s the truth.”

Upon hearing this, everyone widened their eyes.

So, all the effort spent searching had been in vain.

“You clearly know a lot. You must also know how to obtain the clock,” Liu Baimu suggested.

“Indeed, I’m seeking the clock, but it’s not paramount for me. My current goal is to release the ghosts confined within this dungeon,” the man replied coldly, a hint of madness in his tone.

“What?”

Everyone was stunned.

The man wanted to release the ghosts imprisoned in the dungeon.

“This dungeon can’t hold those spirits forever. It’s only a matter of time,” he explained as he walked toward the far end of the prison. That area was shrouded in darkness, hiding the dungeon’s secrets.

“This is bad.”

Both Zhang Qing and Wan Tong froze in shock. The figure they freed didn’t seem inclined to help them evade Yang Jian or kill their pursuer.

Instead, he was a lunatic bent on unleashing the Wang Family’s jailed vengeful spirits.

Though they didn’t know the exact number of ghosts confined here, it was evident there were many.

If all these spirits were unleashed, Dadong City would be doomed. What could possibly drive someone to such destructive intent?

His willingness to undertake such a self-sabotaging act baffled them.

By contrast, they would never choose to release the spirits. Keeping them locked away was safer—you wouldn’t risk inviting more trouble for yourself.

“He’s insane…” everyone thought to themselves.

“What do we do now? We seem to have freed someone who’s going to cause a disaster,” Zhang Qing muttered after a brief silence, his voice tinged with regret and helplessness.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

Before the discussion could continue, loud banging noises echoed throughout the dim dungeon.

The nearby iron bars trembled violently, as if teetering on the verge of collapse.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com

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