Chapter 76: The Curse of Resentment (9)

"Square layout, moderate size. Fully illuminated design, north-south ventilation. Private bathroom, luxury assured."

Li Cheng surveyed the apartment’s structure, exclaiming with a magnetic, emotive voice, as if reciting a brainwashing elevator ad.

In the real world, property prices in Yin City remained sky-high, land resources were scarce, and bizarre unit layouts abounded. Every unscrupulous real estate agent lied with a straight face.

A nine-story building without an elevator was marketed as “a community brimming with fitness energy,” a house next to a psychiatric hospital was touted as “rich in medical resources,” and a unit where the bedroom door faced the bathroom door was called “elder-friendly design, investment for the future.”

In other words: “Hey, guess what? In old Yin City, you wake up every morning and all you do is shit or piss—nothing else.”

By that logic, this haunted house where N people had died could also be called “lively home, strong sense of companionship—even if you eat New Year’s Eve dinner alone, you won’t feel lonely.”

The wall clock was frozen at 5 p.m., the phone showed no signal, and the lights wouldn’t turn on.

Li Cheng swept his flashlight across the kitchen, bedroom, and living room, finding no anomalies.

Just as his hand touched the bathroom door handle, static crackled through his Bluetooth earpiece, followed by Jingzhe Xiazhi’s voice.

“Hello, can you hear me? It’s me,” Jingzhe Xiazhi’s voice crackled urgently: “Don’t go in. It’s dangerous inside.”

“Huh? Communication’s restored?”

Li Cheng released the door handle, stepped back half a pace, and noticed a faint white glow outside the living room window—like a drone’s indicator light. “How’s it going over there?”

“Fine,” Jingzhe Xiazhi’s voice replied. “You can’t see it from there, but I can see hair growing out of the floorboards—spreading toward you.”

Hair?

Li Cheng swept his flashlight around but saw no hair. Was this an illusion?

He narrowed his eyes, rummaged through his backpack, and pulled out a SCAR assault rifle. He fired a burst at the floor—each bullet had been blessed in a temple and theoretically possessed exorcism properties.

“Now?”

“No effect. The hair’s still growing,” Jingzhe Xiazhi said. “No time to explain—hurry to the Japanese-style room. It’s still safe for now.”

“Understood.”

Since Li Cheng couldn’t see the hair, he holstered the rifle, extended his mantis-arm bone blade, flipped upside down, plunged the blade into the floor, and walked backward on his hands, supporting his weight.

Just outside the Japanese-style room’s door, a bright light pierced the thin paper door and spilled into the living room.

Jingzhe Xiazhi’s voice came through the Bluetooth: “I’m lighting the way for you—follow the light.”

While inverted, Li Cheng quipped: “By the way, did you watch Xiaomi’s launch tonight? Lei Jun’s really gone full delusional—selling a phone for over 200,000? More expensive than Huawei, Apple, and Samsung combined.”

“?”

The Bluetooth voice paused, as if unsure how to respond, and repeated: “I’m lighting the way for you—follow the light.”

“You haven’t answered my question. What phone are you using now? Nokia or BlackBerry?”

Li Cheng said cheerfully: “Speaking of that, I remembered once flying out of an American airport.”

It was the early 2000s, scorching hot. I wore a headscarf and long robe, carried too many digital devices, so I modified my tactical vest with extra power banks and cables—all controlled by a single red button that emitted a beeping sound when pressed.

But for some reason, I got tackled by security the moment I entered the airport.”

“I’m lighting the way.”

“Stop with the light already, sis.”

Li Cheng blew a whistle, removed his left Bluetooth earpiece: “I quietly took out the battery on this side—but it’s still playing sound.”

That meant the voice on the other end wasn’t the real Jingzhe Xiazhi.

“.”

The room fell deathly silent. With a loud bang, the paper sliding door that had been luring Li Cheng open violently—revealing what lay inside.

There was no drone indicator light. The so-called light was, in fact, a colossal eyeball.

A vast, bloodless, pale woman’s face pressed flat against the floor-to-ceiling window, eyes filled with venom, staring fixedly at Li Cheng outside the door.

Judging by her appearance, she was the mistress of the Fujita family, brutally beheaded and murdered twenty-five years ago.

“Sis, your face is a bit big, but your base is good—you’d look amazing if you lost weight.”

Li Cheng complimented her, pushed off the floor with both arms, stood upright, and pulled out his rifle from his backpack.

Bang!

The giant woman’s face shattered the window glass, surged into the room, and lunged at Li Cheng.

He pulled the trigger, unleashing a torrent of fire. The blessed bullets struck her face, spewing black smoke—though they didn’t kill her, they successfully slowed her advance.

‘The Bluetooth voice came just as I was about to reach the bathroom—meaning whatever’s in this house doesn’t want me going in there.’

Thinking this, Li Cheng kept up suppressing fire, retreated to the bathroom door, and kicked open the wooden panel.

Inside the cramped bathroom stood a shower and a bathtub. Two empty red gasoline cans and a lighter lay discarded beside the tub. The tub was filled to the brim with opaque black water.

From the center of the black water, the tip of a foil-paper hat protruded.

Could it be…

Li Cheng extended his ant-needle hairs, plunged his hand into the black water, and yanked out a living person.

Ishikawa Kenichi—the long-missing folklorist—was still alive. He wore the same foil-paper coat, but his face and body were severely burned, unconscious.

Li Cheng’s mind flashed with countless theories.

Had he tried to burn down the house with the gasoline cans, failed, burned himself, and survived due to the Fujita mansion’s time-stopping effect?

Before he could ponder further, the woman’s face lunged again—and from every corner of the room, thick black hair sprouted, weaving into a dense net.

Clang!

Li Cheng slapped a talisman onto his mantis-arm bone blade, slashed through the hair with one hand, and with the other, grabbed Ishikawa Kenichi’s collar, hauling him clear of the face, leaping through the shattered window of the Japanese-style room, and landing outside.

As soon as he touched ground, starlight, moonlight, and streetlights returned to normal. Jingzhe Xiazhi stood at the mansion’s gate and shouted: “Where’s Duizhan Qibing?”

“Still inside.”

Li Cheng tossed Ishikawa Kenichi to her, turned—and saw Duizhan Qibing’s silhouette on the second-floor balcony.

He held up a circular shield made of green data, barely blocking a ghost’s cleaver blows, backed into the room’s corner.

“Use this!”

Jingzhe Xiazhi shouted, tossing a roll of tape and a round, heavy object into Li Cheng’s arms.

【Item Name: Relic Ash Bomb】

【Type: Consumable】

【Quality: Fine】

【Effect: Incense Offering. Detonates three seconds after pulling the pin, creating a 20-meter-radius positive energy shockwave】

【Cost: 50 Spirit Points】

【Cooldown: None】

【Requirement: Strength ≥ 6】

【Note: “When you get old, you need more iron, zinc, copper.” To increase the temple’s relic output, the young new abbot decided to add heavy metals to his master’s, senior monks’, and ancestors’ daily vegetarian meals.】

Li Cheng tore his gaze away from the absurd note, understood Jingzhe Xiazhi’s intent, kicked off the ground, climbed the eaves to the second floor, pulled the pin on the spherical bomb, and stuck it to the balcony window with tape.

He then scrambled onto the roof, silently counted: three, two, one.

Boom!

The explosion drowned out the thunder in the clouds. The balcony window vanished. Half the house collapsed.

Dust filled the air. The ghost wielding the cleaver was gone. Duizhan Qibing stood amid the ruins, face charred black. He opened his mouth and spat out a puff of smoke like a cartoon character.

“Cough cough, what the hell was that? Why did a pebble fly into my mouth?”

(End of Chapter)