Chapter 92: Human-Machine Motorcycle

Wu Xian’s scalp prickled, a stench of decay filling his nostrils, his heart thudding uncontrollably as he squirmed uneasily on the motorcycle.

He’d felt this way before in the Fudi, when encountering malevolent spirits that didn’t bother to hide.

But now his sense of dread was stronger than before.

Perhaps this was also the effect of his Dao cultivation.

Wu Xian immediately raised his guard.

According to the Chenghuang’s mission notice, malevolent spirits could indeed appear in the real world—just not as frequently as in the Fudi.

Don’t think it’s bad luck—Chenghuang records show that juan people are more likely to encounter malevolent spirits than ordinary folks; those who frequently commit wrong deeds are even more prone to transform into them…

The man walked up to Wu Xian and asked: “I’m Feng Chen from the Chenghuang’s Operations Team. Are you a juan person?”

As for the third, he was sprawled on the wheel himself.

Ten more had just arrived—they came from different walks of life, but now shared one unified identity.

The operator replied professionally: “Mr. Wu, please remain calm. Wait in safety. A specialist will handle this soon. If your situation is secure, please calmly provide the incident location, describe the malevolent spirit, and estimate its power level.”

Their mouths were sealed, limbs clamped to the wheels, bodies pierced through by long nails and fixed to a frame; motorcycle mirrors and other parts were nailed into their flesh with short nails, painted over with matching car paint; their bodies rose and fell faintly only with breath, the blood pooling on the ground now dark red.

“It’s something twisted into a motorcycle—I’d guess it’s a wandering spirit.”

Only after he’d ridden some distance did he see in the rearview mirror that the thief-turned-motorcycle had just reached the gate.

Just moments ago, Wu Xian had been sharing a room with that thing!

After being spotted, the thief amplified his motorcycle imitation, his mouth splitting into a grotesque grin; the wheels suddenly rolled, shoving aside the mother-and-son motorcycle, lurching crookedly toward Wu Xian.

The people who got off the vehicles were equally varied: a sanitation worker, a bald headmaster, a beautiful college girl, a gang boss with dragon tattoos…

His body was highly mutated—flesh twisted and deformed, fleshy tumors growing on his head like mirrors, his calves resembling car exhaust pipes, a contorted face flattened against the front, eyes, mouth, and nose stretched thin, his mouth endlessly mimicking the sound of a motorcycle.

Feng Chen chatted idly with Wu Xian; all Chenghuang staff were merely waiting here, taking no action.

“Looks like it can’t harm anyone for now, so…”

Wu Xian nodded: “Yeah, terrible luck—I just came to find my motorcycle.”

Watching its clumsy form, Wu Xian suddenly understood.

Wu Xian stared at the scene, momentarily stunned.

In the dim light, it was impossible to tell whether they were people or motorcycles.

Wu Xian raised his hand.

But there were only two motorcycles here!

When the mist cleared.

One was a middle-aged woman with a sharp face and bulky frame; the other was a young man with tattoos, piercings, and dyed yellow hair.

“I’m a juan person too—I’ve never taken a mission. Can I go in and observe?”

“This is Fuyuan Chenghuang Office. Operator 107 serving you.”

“Hello, hello, I’m a newly registered juan person—my motorcycle was stolen, so I went after the thief, only to find he’d turned into a malevolent spirit, and his wife and son are nearly dead. I can’t handle this myself…”

Vehicles began arriving one after another—tricycles, vans, cargo trucks, SUVs…

A while longer passed.

Wu Xian drove the motorcycle out, turned it around, and shone the headlights into the garage; the light clarified the scene, making his expression freeze—he felt a chill run through his entire body.

“Since we don’t pay you anyway, go ahead and watch.”

Before the operation began, a black-clad figure tossed two objects the size of volleyballs—resembling grenades—into the courtyard; with faint explosions, a light mist of vapor spread through the yard.

“Chit-chit, tu-tu-tu…”

Wu Xian glanced back at the motorcycle-spirit still outside the garage.

Wu Xian had originally thought there were five motorcycles in the garage besides his own.

“These are Purification Bombs—one of the Chenghuang’s standard-issue tools.”

“The Chenghuang Office has supply channels set up across the country—in dog meat processing plants, elementary school boys’ bathrooms… and many other places—using industrial methods to produce Purification Bombs.”

Feng Chen noticed Wu Xian’s confusion and explained proactively.

Wu Xian picked out several features from its stretched face and confirmed it was indeed the thief.

The sight was utterly horrifying.

Wu Xian had seen them in photos inside the house—they were the thief’s wife and son.

Either unwilling to leave home or realizing it couldn’t catch Wu Xian, the motorcycle-spirit didn’t pursue—meaning Wu Xian was temporarily safe.

Purification Bombs don’t kill malevolent spirits—they suppress them, weaken their malevolent nature, and make the environment more suitable for juan people.

The remaining three vehicles had only six wheels total—on each pair of wheels, a human lay sprawled!

Two of them had been forcibly placed on the wheels.

But at the final step, Wu Xian hesitated.

“This isn’t bad luck,”

Wu Xian opened his Duedie, flipped to the talisman page, and tapped his finger on the “Thunder-Calling Incantation”—one more stroke, and he could bring the talisman from Li Hen Tian into the real world.

He’d clearly explained over the phone—it was just a wandering spirit. Why did the Chenghuang Office need to mobilize so heavily?

Feng Chen counted the people: “Everyone here? Then begin the mission.”

Feng Chen thought for a moment, then nodded.

Soon, two black vans arrived; black-clad figures stepped out—they were all Chenghuang staff, led by a man with albinism.

After registering with the Chenghuang Office, you receive a phone number; for emergencies, you can call directly. Wu Xian dialed, and a sweet female voice answered.

Wu Xian immediately reversed, turned, and twisted the throttle—vroom—he shot off.

Juan people who had accepted Chenghuang missions.

After giving the operator all the requested information, Wu Xian bought some sunflower seeds nearby, leaned against his motorcycle, and waited for the Chenghuang team to arrive.

Otherwise, Wu Xian’s condition at the time would have cost him dearly.

“Better to let the Chenghuang Office handle this than risk it myself.”

The thief stole his bike today—he probably hasn’t fully transformed into a suitable form yet, which is why it didn’t attack Wu Xian inside the garage.

Twelve of them filed noisily into the thief’s courtyard.

Ah… forgot to set the timer, and my draft ran out. The remaining two chapters will be a bit late—not too late, I estimate around six.

(End of Chapter)