Chapter 63: The Terrifying Experience

Zhao Jing, Cai Jianming, Qian Kai.

Three Qi Refining cultivators had just invaded Li Yi’s home, but the bizarre sight before them froze them in place—they could not comprehend it: the door they had just opened had vanished, and moreover, the fist prints, palm prints, and footprints left on the ceiling were now oozing blood steadily.

The blood seeped rapidly, staining the ceiling; within less than ten seconds, the entire ceiling was covered in a chilling layer of crimson.

“Drip. Drip.”

The blood grew thick and began falling steadily, some of it splattering onto Zhao Jing and the others.

They reached out, touched it, then brought their fingers to their noses.

The stench was overpowering.

This strange transformation slowly turned their unease into an inexplicable terror.

“Damn it, what the hell is going on? Did a high-level cultivator’s energy field disrupt my senses and create hallucinations? Close your eyes—don’t look. Use your spiritual sense to perceive everything around you. Find out what’s really happening here.” Zhao Jing was the first to react—he immediately shut his eyes.

He knew powerful cultivators possessed spiritual energy capable of disrupting others’ perceptions, inducing hallucinations, even inducing hypnosis—terribly dangerous.

Once spiritually disturbed, what you saw and heard could both be lies.

As the three closed their eyes,

a peculiar sensation emanated from each of them.

Through their Qi Refining, they could perceive their surroundings without sight—using only their bodies, sensing more accurately than eyes ever could, like a biological radar scanning the environment. This ability, a natural gift granted by bodily evolution, was automatically mastered by every cultivator who entered the Qi Refining realm.

As their spiritual sense spread,

Zhao Jing first sensed the presence of his two companions, then the ground, walls, ceiling—all appeared clearly in his perception. But when his spiritual sense reached the door, he found it still gone—only a wall remained.

The blood on the ceiling continued dripping.

Clearly, what they had seen was no illusion—it was all real.

“How is this possible?” Zhao Jing gritted his teeth, unable to accept such an impossible scene.

His spiritual sense continued to expand.

It reached into the room.

Inside, he sensed the medical pod, and Li Yi’s father lying inside—normal, nothing wrong. But when his spiritual sense extended to the kitchen, something horrifying occurred: in the dim kitchen, a human-shaped silhouette appeared in his perception.

“Found it.”

At that moment, Zhao Jing snapped his eyes open.

Not just him—Cai Jianming and Qian Kai also immediately awoke, all three fixing their gazes on the dim kitchen.

But in their vision, the kitchen held no one—only darkness and silence.

Yet spiritual sense never lied.

Though invisible, that ‘person’ was undeniably standing in the kitchen.

“Are you Li Yi’s mother? Spare us. We’ll pay a massive compensation and swear never to bother Li Yi again.” Zhao Jing spoke to the empty kitchen.

But the invisible ‘person’ in the kitchen gave no response.

Blood still dripped from the ceiling. The air reeked of a sharp, foul stench—no longer just blood, but something like decay, like corpse odor.

“Thirty million. Let us go. That’s the most I can offer.”

Zhao Jing took a deep breath and spoke again. Though he had previously demanded over a hundred million from Li Yi, he had never possessed that much—thirty million was his absolute limit.

But the surroundings remained utterly silent. The dim kitchen offered no reply.

The corpse stench grew thicker, nearly making them vomit.

“What do we do?” Qian Kai’s eyes filled with panic.

He couldn’t understand this change, but his spiritual sense screamed warnings—immense danger loomed over him. If he didn’t escape this threat, he felt he wouldn’t survive the day.

“Run. Out the window.”

Seeing no communication possible, Zhao Jing gritted his teeth and sprinted straight to the window, leaping down from the third floor in one fluid motion.

Cai Jianming and Qian Kai followed instantly.

The third floor wasn’t high; as cultivators, they landed smoothly and immediately burst into astonishing speed, sprinting toward the edge of the neighborhood.

They didn’t dare look back or hesitate—even a second’s delay might trap them inside Li Yi’s home forever.

They ran twenty kilometers without stopping.

Only when they neared the edge of the old district did Zhao Jing and the others finally halt at a street intersection.

“Damn it, what the hell is going on in Li Yi’s house? Did a Silent One awaken? But it doesn’t feel like it.” Qian Kai panted, cursing under his breath.

Cai Jianming, still shaken, said: “Same here. The thing we faced wasn’t alive. That aura, that spiritual sense screaming in warning—it felt just like the unknown horrors we encountered in the Danger Zones.”

“Wait. Don’t talk yet. Something’s… wrong with the surroundings.” Zhao Jing’s pupils sharply contracted—he lifted his head, scanning everything around him.

The street was empty. No one in sight. The entire city was deathly silent. The sky was dark and oppressive, the sun nowhere to be seen.

In this moment, it seemed only the three of them remained in the world.

“Why? Did something happen to us—or did the world itself change?”

Qian Kai stood on the empty street, turning frantically, his fear deepening.

“Hallucination. It has to be. We’re still trapped in someone’s spiritual energy field—our senses are being disrupted.” Cai Jianming muttered: “We’re still in Li Yi’s house. That ‘person’ won’t let us leave. We’re being watched.”

“Impossible. Our spiritual sense doesn’t lie. Even a master above Qi Refining couldn’t manipulate perception this thoroughly.”

Zhao Jing gritted his teeth, a cold dread spreading through his heart: “Li Yi’s ‘mother’ is deeply wrong. All this strangeness comes from her. No—I can’t even be sure that thing is human anymore.”

“Who?”

Suddenly, Cai Jianming sensed something—he whipped his head toward a direction and instinctively fired his gun.

Bang!

The bullet struck a blurred human silhouette.

The figure hid behind a shop window, concealed in darkness—even Qi Refining eyes couldn’t discern its details, only a vague human outline.

“Speak! Who are you?” Cai Jianming stared rigidly at the figure, his gun hand trembling.

He had hit it—absolutely.

But the figure showed no reaction.

“I won’t wait to die. I’m fighting!” Qian Kai couldn’t bear this strangeness—he roared, lunging forward at the blurred figure.

“Qian Kai, don’t rush!” Zhao Jing shouted.

But it was too late.

Qian Kai had already charged into the dim shop, gathering his strength, delivering a sweeping kick aimed at crushing the silhouette.

Yet his Qi Refining strike had no effect—his immense power vanished like a stone dropped into the ocean. The figure remained utterly still.

“How?” Qian Kai froze for a moment.

Then he sensed something else—he swung a punch violently to his side.

Another blurred silhouette emerged from the darkness.

His punch landed—but the figure didn’t budge, standing motionless as before.

Before he could react, heavy footsteps echoed from behind him in the darkness, rapidly approaching.

“Eye Strike!” Qian Kai didn’t hesitate—he activated Eye Strike, his eyes glowing faintly.

The surrounding darkness receded slightly under the assault.

In that instant, Qian Kai saw everything clearly.

A pale, cold woman’s face. Hollow, lifeless, gray eyes—no, not just one pair. Two. Three. Four. Dozens. Countless such eyes stared at him from the darkness.

Instantly,

his hair stood on end—terror surged from his core, drowning his entire body.

Qian Kai tried to run—but his body was frozen. Unseen, a cold hand reached from behind, resting on his shoulder. The fingers were slender, skin pale, covered in faint corpse spots.

But outside,

Zhao Jing and Cai Jianming saw only Qian Kai vanish into the darkness of the shop—gone completely.

Silence. Absolute stillness. No sound. No struggle.

This bizarre scene sent a primal chill through them.

Qian Kai was a Qi Refining cultivator—even if he lost, even if he died, he should have made some noise.

Wait. There was noise.

Suddenly,

moments later, a figure emerged from the darkness.

It was Qian Kai—vanished earlier.

But now his face was deathly pale, his eyes vacant and soulless, his lips curled into a strange smile. He stood silently, waving toward Zhao Jing and Cai Jianming—as if beckoning them closer.

Seeing this, their hearts plunged into ice. A chill swept through them. Their eyes filled with despair.

In that moment, they understood what they had encountered.

Minutes later,

in Li Yi’s home, the previously opened door slowly closed. Inside, the empty medical pod now held another sleeping woman—everything seemed calm again.

The fist prints, palm prints, and footprints on the ceiling remained clearly visible—but no longer oozed blood.

The only difference now: a persistent shadow clung to the nearby wall. From afar, it resembled three figures, twisted and grotesque in expression.

Zhao Jing, Cai Jianming, and Qian Kai—who had entered—had vanished completely.