Chapter 974 940 Halt

The day of mourning had arrived, and danger surged like a tidal wave, catching everyone off guard.

The ghost handler who had been speaking earlier was now lifeless, standing motionless as if transformed into a corpse. He didn’t even have time to use his supernatural power before he died.

Clearly.

He had been killed by a ghost.

As for whether he was killed by the eerie infant or some other ghost, no one could be certain.

No one had the luxury of worrying about his life and death at this moment.

Everyone was trying to figure out how to survive the dangers of the day, which could potentially wipe out the entire group. Not even Yang Jian could guarantee he’d make it out alive.

Yang Jian, Li Yang, Da Qiang, and Fan Xing.

The four of them, clad in dirty, peculiar mourning clothes, quickly entered the rear hall.

The red coffin remained stationed there, unchanged.

But today, the rear door—no one knew when—had mysteriously shut. Perhaps it had been blown shut by the wind, or maybe some rule of the ancient house had activated, sealing the door and cutting off all escape routes.

“That guy just died. Did you see it as you left?”

“Saw it. Died in a very strange way. Was it the infant’s doing?”

“No idea. What’s certain is that the ancient house is extraordinarily dangerous right now. Any slight disturbance could be deadly. Now that the rear door is shut, it looks like we’ll be stuck here for the entire day.”

Inside the rear hall, the group gathered around the red coffin, murmuring softly.

All of them were draped in filthy, stinking white cloth, resembling ghosts themselves. They could only peek through the tattered holes in the cloth to observe the surroundings outside.

Their breathing grew heavier.

The anomalies within the ancient house had multiplied to an unbearable degree, so much so that the place had become unnervingly lively. Compared to this, the vigil on the second night seemed trivial—a mere ripple against a raging wave. If precautions and methods had made survival possible on the second night,

on this fourth day, such hope seemed impossible.

It appeared that the number of ghosts within the ancient house was enough to drown a person entirely.

“Keep quiet. The ghosts have already entered the main hall,” Yang Jian said, his face grave. He gestured to the others to remain silent.

At that moment,

the two paper effigies that had been rigidly stationed on either side of the courtyard unnoticedly appeared in the central area of the main hall. The effigies’ feet were not separated, crafted out of solid sheets of paper with colorful portrayals drawn in the middle—a design inherently incapable of movement.

Their eyes were the most terrifying, roaming around with an unsettling gaze, making everyone’s skin crawl.

Beyond that.

Diverse “figures” began to emerge, resembling the dead unearthed from graves to roam once more. Yet no one knew why they could still perform actions.

These figures looked distinct but shared the common feature that all their clothing was black.

Even if their garments weren’t black, their skin was—a blackness born not from natural complexion but from decay, the residue of supernatural corrosion.

“These are not human. They’re all vengeful ghosts teetering on the brink of resurrection. Previously buried within Old Lin’s forest, some force had trapped them, preventing movement. But now, they’ve broken free,” Yang Jian said, keeping his ghost eyes activated, even if it meant tightly shutting his human ones to avoid triggering deadly paranormal laws by mistakenly locking gazes with some ghost.

The ghost eyes, being spectral, could bypass certain paranormal dangers.

“Something’s wrong.”

Even amidst the heart-stopping atmosphere, Yang Jian did not lose his rationality. The ghosts continued flooding in, their advance unceasing. In just a short while, they’d cross forbidden boundaries and invade the rear hall directly.

This made no sense.

On mourning day, no one was permitted to enter the rear hall.

Yang Jian glanced at the red coffin beside him, furrowed his brow, and murmured, “Something’s changed. All the ghosts are converging here. If this continues, the rear hall will be completely blocked, leaving us no space to maneuver. I think we should move this coffin out—only then can we stop the further intrusion of the ghosts.”

“Four days have passed. If the elderly corpse inside the coffin is on the verge of supernatural resurrection, then by now there should be some signs.”

“Captain, you want to use the old man’s body to fend off these ghosts?” Li Yang whispered cautiously. “Isn’t this too risky? If your judgment is wrong, the elderly figure might resurrect prematurely.”

“We have to try. Otherwise, when the ghosts fully invade the rear hall, we won’t even have the chance to test this theory,” Yang Jian replied resolutely, his instincts screaming that this coffin was crucial to their survival.

By the fourth day, there were dead ends everywhere in the ancient house.

The lanterns extinguished, the incense ceased burning, the rooms became uninhabitable, ghosts filled the main hall, and the rear door was sealed off completely.

Only the red coffin had yet to fulfill its intended purpose since the start.

Yang Jian suspected its role would come into play today.

“Fine, let’s give it a shot. The four of us will carry it outside together and see if it does anything,” Fan Xing gritted his teeth and agreed.

“And this way, we’ll confirm whether the mourning clothes we’re wearing have any effect,” Da Qiang added with visible unease, cold sweat already beading upon his forehead.

The moment was pivotal—a matter of life and death.

Everything they had done up until now was based on mere conjecture, unverified. This was the moment to test those guesses.

A single misstep could get them all killed in an instant.

“Move!” Yang Jian issued the command firmly.

Everyone held their breath, extending their hands to lift the heavy red coffin off the ground.

The coffin was extraordinarily heavy, as if the body inside wasn’t merely a corpse but an entire coffin full of stones—or even heavier than stones, defying common logic.

“This weight…” Da Qiang staggered, nearly collapsing as his body trembled uncontrollably.

He had already exerted his utmost strength.

Yang Jian didn’t say a word. Instead, the ghost shadow on the ground rippled, supporting the bottom of the coffin and alleviating a significant portion of the weight, ensuring their safe lift of the heavy red coffin.

Had they been unable to lift it due to insufficient strength, their deaths would have been for nothing.

Slowly and with great difficulty, the red coffin began its trek toward the main hall.

Thankfully, the distance wasn’t far. By holding their breath and summoning all their strength, they managed to barely endure. Yet beyond the physical exertion, the greater concern lay in what dangers awaited them once they exited.

That was an unknown.

Their fates hinged entirely on what came next.

Even Li Yang, a seasoned veteran, had tightened his face into an expression of utmost strain, his body trembling faintly.

Yang Jian, however, remained composed. He even had the presence of mind to hold the cracked spear in one hand, pinning down the eerie infant to preempt its revival and eliminate additional threats.

Upon entering the main hall.

The air turned icy and stale, flooded with the stench of decaying corpses.

One after another, shadowy black ghosts began appearing, surging like waves of humans, flooding nearly the entirety of the hall and continuing to press forward.

Yang Jian and his group carried the red coffin into this oppressive atmosphere, the weight of the moment bearing down on them. Fan Xing’s breathing grew labored, Da Qiang broke out in a cold sweat, and even his limbs began stiffening at the overwhelming stress.

Thankfully, their appearance didn’t provoke ghostly attacks.

Remarkably, none of the ghosts seemed to notice them.

“The mourning clothes are working.”

The same thought surfaced in everyone’s mind. It was self-evident, as otherwise, one of them would have already become a victim. With that many ghosts present, surely one would have noticed.

The four men seemed invisible, as if they didn’t exist at all, escaping detection by any of the vengeful entities.

Slowly, they deposited the red coffin in the center of the main hall.

The others turned their gazes to Yang Jian, remaining silent. Yet the eyes revealed beneath their white cloths made their mounting unease unmistakable.

Why were the ghosts still advancing?

Yang Jian’s eyes flickered.

In his estimation, the appearance of the red coffin should have caused the ghosts to freeze in their tracks, halting their invasion of the ancient house. How could there be no reaction?

Such stillness implied an incorrect assessment.

The coffin failed to exert dominion over the ghosts or achieve the necessary balance to mitigate the uncanny dangers of the day.

Yang Jian said nothing. Instead, he motioned for everyone to draw closer to the coffin, reasoning that its surroundings might still offer a safe zone.

But shortly afterward,

this assumption proved flawed.

The ghosts advanced ever closer. Although they hadn’t yet attacked the group, their growing proximity tightened the men’s space, threatening encroachment. Once entirely surrounded, even with the guise of invisibility offered by the mourning clothes, the sheer density of ghosts would surely result in attacks.

“Should we retreat to the rear hall?” Da Qiang suggested hesitantly, unable to withstand the mounting pressure.

But the moment his voice echoed,

several eerie figures immediately paused mid-step, lifting pale faces, their menacing eyes locking onto the group with an unyielding stare.

Da Qiang’s complexion turned ghostly white, his breath halted in fright.

Speaking was out of the question.

Even a single word risked alerting the ghosts.

The mourning clothes didn’t grant complete immunity from ghostly attacks; they merely masked one’s presence, preventing detection.

But absolute silence was imperative. Producing sound would still expose oneself.

The figures frozen in vigilance faltered, seemingly disinterested in launching an immediate attack—possibly because the brief sound was insufficient to trigger their aggression.

Nevertheless, the vulnerability felt palpable.

Should any further slip-ups occur, the glaring ghosts would seize upon the opportunity for slaughter.

Realizing the gravity of his mistake, Da Qiang now stood petrified, not daring to utter another word.

“Under such circumstances, retreating to the rear hall should be avoided. The mourning clothes can obscure the ghosts’ senses, but they cannot repel paranormal attacks. If confined in a tight space, direct encounters with the ghosts would prove fatal, no matter the invisibility afforded by the mourning clothes,” Yang Jian explained, his sharp eyes flickering decisively.

Da Qiang’s comment had exposed danger but had also confirmed critical intelligence.

Information pivotal to their survival.

“So what do we do now?” Yang Jian thought anxiously. Amid his calculated deliberation, no solution presented itself.

Allowing the ghosts to come too close spelled certain doom.

Yet the red coffin seemed impotent, failing to halt their advance.

As a messenger, an inevitable death situation couldn’t possibly occur, even under the most harrowing trials. There must always be a way to avert demise. This was only the fourth day, after all. Ergo, the red coffin was undeniably useful—their failure lay in unearthing the proper approach.

Was its placement incorrect?

An unlikely possibility.

The solution might lie in one action: opening the coffin.

Yang Jian’s mind flashed with inspiration. He recalled that in mourning rituals, attendees must pay their respects by viewing the deceased.

Keeping the coffin sealed prevented the elder from presenting his visage. Thus, the ghosts would not stop.

“We’ll test this,” Yang Jian resolved, abruptly reaching out to shove the coffin lid.

Thud!

The heavy, red-lacquered lid crashed onto the ground, emitting a loud boom.

Had he really opened the coffin?

His companions froze in shock.

Surely such an action would risk unleashing the elder prematurely due to paranormal influences?

But before they could voice their fears,

the corpse of the wrinkled, spot-covered elder inside the coffin suddenly sprang upright, influenced by some unknown supernatural force.

Simultaneously, the once-serene expression on his elderly face twisted into one of fierce, grave anger—as though he had died unavenged. Despite the dead man’s still-closed eyes and lifeless aura, his transformed demeanor was unmistakably terrifying compared to his previous peaceful repose.

His sudden movement and altered visage caused sweat to pour from his companions’ palms as they nearly turned tail to flee.

Yet Yang Jian remained immobile.

His calm prompted the others to stay rooted in place. Even if Li Yang, Fan Xing, and Da Qiang were quaking with fear or grappling with overwhelming anxiety, they refrained from budging.

Just then, an unprecedented phenomenon unfolded.

The influx of ghosts into the ancient house halted abruptly. Their collective invasion came to a standstill as eerie cries of terror ceased. The clinging shades vanished like dissipating smoke, and the intense gust of chilling winds retreated to near-calm.

The pair of blackened paper effigies at the forefront reverted to their inanimate appearances—no longer swiveling their cranial gazes curiously, they froze in stillness.

Various paranormal manifestations appeared deterred, even suppressed, as if nearing extinction.

And yet,

the ghosts lingered.

Though halted momentarily, they remained present, far from departing.

The elder’s rigid, upright corpse rested inside his coffin, his weathered features stern and frightening.

Between them and the lingering ghosts, an uneasy truce formed.

“This… actually worked?” Fan Xing’s eyes widened in disbelief.

A mere corpse capable of obstructing the ghosts?

How was this even possible?

The elder was far from an ordinary cadaver—it resembled a spectral artifact capable of exerting control over spirits.

“A correct guess. The elder’s corpse was already in the initial stages of paranormal resurrection on the fourth day. Survival today hinged on releasing the spectral energy from the corpse, fostering resistance against the invading ghosts—as though hosting… a mourning ceremony.”

“The red coffin had sealed the elder’s paranormal power. Opening the coffin was essential,” Yang Jian discerned unequivocally.

This was how to navigate the fourth day’s peril.

But this fragile balance was far from absolute. While the bulk of ghosts were held at bay, those exceptions still lurked.

Through his ghost eyes, Yang Jian observed the enigmatic, unmoving crowd.

He glimpsed shadowy figures moving through the masses, undistracted by the elder’s paranormal force.

And their numbers weren’t few.

Among them, one stood out distinctly in Yang Jian’s spectral lens.

It flashed prominently—dressed uniformly in vivid red, striking and inexplicable.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com

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