Chapter 309: Summoning the God

Looking around, he saw no one, so Ning Zhe turned to Xia Yubing, whose face was pale: “You’ve been waiting outside for me this whole time—did you see where he went?”

Xia Yubing quickly shook her head, then nodded: “I was just watching you, didn’t pay much attention to him… but I caught a glimpse of him leaning against the wall, about to light a cigarette… then in the blink of an eye—just one blink—he was gone, as if he’d vanished into thin air.”

“Is that so?” Forsles turned to the two male attendants guarding the door.

The two exchanged glances and both nodded: “The lady is right. Mr. Bayer had already put the cigarette between his lips, ready to light it—we were just about to tell him smoking was prohibited… and then he vanished. Like some invisible monster swallowed him whole—suddenly, out of nowhere, he disappeared right before our eyes.”

“Bayer” was the driver’s surname.

“Check the surveillance footage,” Ning Zhe said. “Three pairs of eyes witnessed a living man vanish before them—and yet there was no sense of unease at all. That itself is the greatest unease.”

“Understood.” Forsles turned to enter the room and check the footage, when suddenly a dull thud echoed behind him. He shuddered, stiffened, and slowly turned his head—there, lying before them, was a fresh corpse, just dead.

The corpse’s face was frozen in terror—it was the driver, Bayer, his mouth wide open, brows knotted tightly, as if he’d seen something incomprehensible, something that filled him with unbearable shock.

The ghost was still in the theater.

All present simultaneously showed expressions of shock. The two male attendants quickly exchanged glances, saying nothing. Xia Yubing silently stepped two paces closer to Ning Zhe.

Ning Zhe knelt on one knee beside Bayer, examining the body: “Did you all see what just happened?”

“W-we saw,” replied the attendant on the left, voice trembling.

Xia Yubing nodded as well, her face grim.

The driver Bayer had vanished before three people’s eyes, then reappeared—and within seconds, he was dead.

Bayer’s disappearance was abrupt; his reappearance, coincidental. He died under everyone’s gaze, yet those who witnessed it all had no idea what had occurred, nor whether they would be next to vanish. The unseen ghost seemed to be flaunting its power from the shadows.

But Ning Zhe knew better. Ghosts had no emotions. Ghosts had no consciousness. Ghosts did not boast. Ghosts did not act on impulse. If a ghost did something, it meant it had to do it—could not do otherwise.

“A person’s disappearance is a necessary condition for the ghost’s killing—or rather, the ghost’s killing process manifests as ‘disappearance’ and ‘reappearance.’ The exact logic remains unknown.”

Ning Zhe stood up and turned: “Gather everyone in the theater. Before the next person vanishes, ensure everyone can see each other.”

“I’ll arrange it immediately.” Forsles turned and left without hesitation, taking one attendant with him from Booth 6.

“You—check the corridor surveillance,” Ning Zhe said to the remaining attendant. “I have other matters to handle.”

“Yes.” The attendant turned and entered the booth.

Having dismissed all three, Ning Zhe gave Xia Yubing a glance. Together, they carried Bayer’s corpse into the adjacent Room 05, laid it on the crescent-shaped sofa, and pulled the curtain shut.

Ding—a simple ancient coin, square outside and round inside, landed on the glass counter, rolled off the edge, and came to rest in the palm of a gray-white, withered, wrinkled, skeletal hand.

Xia Yubing covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide, staring at the Confucian-robed old man who had suddenly appeared in the center of the room. Half his neck hung limp, blood oozing thickly from a wound the size of a bowl, each drop like a hammer blow to her heart.

An indescribable “old man smell,” mixed with the stench of decay, filled the room. The God of Wealth held a dead man’s head by its hair, its eyes rolled white, and with his other hand caught the coin Ning Zhe had just thrown—appearing out of nowhere in the center of the room.

Ning Zhe had already donned the face of a new client. He pointed at the corpse on the sofa: “I’m buying his life.”

The God of Wealth clenched his five fingers into a fist, then opened them—the coin vanished. Simultaneously, the recently dead driver Bayer opened his eyes.

“Ahh—!” Bayer jolted upright, screaming: “No! Don’t!”

“Quiet,” Ning Zhe grabbed Bayer’s shoulder and slapped his face.

“A… a… I, you… I’m not… ah?”

“Quiet,” Ning Zhe slapped him again on the other cheek.

Bayer opened his mouth to speak again, but looked up and saw Xia Yubing pull a brass revolver from her coat, cock the hammer, and press the barrel against his skull. He snapped his mouth shut, eyes bulging like one-yuan coins, staring in terror at the Confucian-robed corpse standing silently beside the table, holding the severed head.

Not a single error, not a single misstep, not a single detail missed!

The God of Wealth stood with feet together, his corpse rigid as a tree. He did not walk—he “glided” sideways to the sofa and slowly extended his hand toward Xia Yubing.

Xia Yubing froze, then instinctively turned to look at Ning Zhe.

“Take it. Give him the money. You won’t be harmed,” Ning Zhe said, pulling out two copper coins and handing them to her. He released Bayer’s shoulder and sat on the table, asking calmly: “What did you see? What did you experience? Tell me everything you know—detail by detail—if you don’t want to go through it again.”

As if recalling something terrible, Bayer’s shoulders trembled slightly.

He looked at the God of Wealth, who was reaching for the money from Xia Yubing, then at the stranger before him—his face unfamiliar—and nodded shakily: “I… I understand…”

The God of Wealth accepted Xia Yubing’s payment, completed the transaction, and vanished from the scene. This was the Rule of the Wu Tong: forced buying, forced selling. All who come to Cloud’s Gate are guests. Inviting a god is easy; sending one away is hard. Once you’ve seen the God of Wealth, you must do business.

Xia Yubing watched the God of Wealth disappear from view, exhaled deeply, and slumped onto the sofa opposite, heart pounding. Her eyes involuntarily drifted toward Ning Zhe—now a stranger to her, his face changed. She had many questions, but she knew this was not the time.

Ning Zhe glanced back at her, his gaze deep.

“The God of Wealth’s rule actually worked,” Ning Zhe thought silently. “Is Lan Shiwen also in this theater?”

(End of Chapter)