Chapter 310: Sending Off the Gods

The "Ink Square" is a tool of the Lian family of Qinzhou; its function is simple and brutal: two characters draw a line, three characters draw a straight line, and the two sides of the straight line are "divided" into two worlds that never interfere with each other.

When Forslos borrowed the Ink Square and drew a boundary around the opera house’s outer wall, the inside and outside of the theater were "divided" by the Ink Square, cut off from all contact. The ghosts inside could not leave; the people outside could not enter.

"But the God of Wealth seemed to ignore the Ink Square’s 'division' rule—when the copper coin rang, He came in."

Ning Zhe’s mind raced with two hypotheses: "Is it because Wu Tong, as a true ghost, operates under rules that supersede the Ink Square’s authority? Or is it that Wu Tong was already inside the theater from the start, needing no 'entry' at all?"

If it were the former, it would be somewhat easier to explain.

If it were the latter, then Lan Shiwen might currently be hiding somewhere within this theater.

"Just now, I saw a person walking toward me from the other end of the corridor..."

A voice from the sofa interrupted this fruitless train of thought; Ning Zhe gathered his focus and, together with Xia Yubing, listened intently as Bailer recounted what he had experienced during his vanished Shiji seconds:

"When Mr. Dai Ke and Mr. Milikato entered Booth No. 6 to inspect the Master’s corpse, I also wanted to go in and check, but the usher at the door stopped me, telling me not to disturb them."

Ning Zhe glanced at Xia Yubing and saw her nod to him; he nodded in return, signaling Bailer to continue.

"After being stopped by the usher, I was deeply uneasy—I’d only recently started driving for the Master. My father was his previous driver; I’d taken over less than half a month when this happened... I truly don’t know how to explain it to my family..."

"Get to the point." Ning Zhe cut him off.

"Yes, yes." Bailer nodded quickly: "Feeling down, I leaned against the wall, pulled out a cigarette, and reached for my lighter—but then I remembered smoking was forbidden in the theater, and there were ladies present. I quickly put the cigarette away, intending to apologize to Miss Xia—but when I looked up, everyone was gone."

"Gone?"

"Gone." Bailer nodded, continuing: "The two ushers by the door, Mr. Dai Ke and Mr. Milikato inside the room, and... and Miss Xia—all of them vanished. The booth was empty; the corridor was deserted. Then I heard faint footsteps coming from afar."

"I turned toward the sound and saw a tall, thin man in tattered clothes walking toward me from the other end of the corridor, bringing with him a stench of decay. His skin was gray-white, utterly bloodless; he wore only one shoe on his left foot, and a filthy, ragged burlap sack covered his head—he looked like a walking corpse."

"I was terrified. I pulled out my gun and shouted at him to stop—but he didn’t listen. He kept walking toward me step by step. I wanted to shoot, but my gun had no bullets—the Master insisted on safety; servants’ guns were never loaded. I wanted to run, but thinking of the Master’s corpse, my legs turned to jelly..."

"The man reached me quickly. The stench of rotting flesh was so thick I could barely breathe. I was terrified—I swung a desperate punch at him, but he caught my fist effortlessly..."

Bailer’s lips were pale, his eyes filled with dread.

Ning Zhe frowned slightly and pressed: "He grabbed your hand—then what?"

"Then...?" Bailer froze at the question. After a few seconds, he shook his head: "Then my vision went black. I knew nothing until I opened my eyes again—here, on this sofa."

The dead Bailer awoke on the sofa; the first thing he saw was the headless corpse in the Confucian robe.

"Is that so?" Xia Yubing, gazing across the table at the driver’s trembling terror, thought: "According to his account, the moment that corpse seized his fist... he was already dead."

Do ghosts kill by gripping a person’s hand? Or by bodily contact?

Or something else entirely?

"It’s not that simple," Ning Zhe stood up, shifting his gaze from the sofa, speaking softly: "Bailer must have unintentionally triggered one of the ghost’s rules—but he himself didn’t realize it."

Summarizing the current known information:

【1. The ghost kills only one person at a time.】

【2. From the victim’s perspective, everyone else suddenly vanishes, and the ghost appears.】【3. To others, the person chosen by the ghost and who encounters it also 'disappears'—only reappearing as a corpse after death.】

【4. The victim does not die immediately; they must make some form of contact with the ghost and meet a specific condition before being killed.】

【5. The ghost actively selects a target and makes contact with them.】

But the criteria and reasons for the ghost’s target selection remain unknown.

Bailer’s account is credible—he spoke the truth, at least as he perceived it.

Because 【I must tell this person the truth.】

In the past, Ning Zhe often had to use Taiyi to steal identities and inherit memories, going through convoluted, tedious procedures to obtain information of this reliability—more often than not, he was constrained by objective conditions and limited resources. For example, when he encountered "Fen Wu" in the Chenyu Valley prison, Taiyi’s rule could not be triggered at all.

Now, all it takes is a small psychological suggestion—a single brick pried loose from one corner of the Great Wall—and an utterly defenseless heart opens automatically, revealing everything without reservation.

A clamor of voices came from outside; Ning Zhe left the sofa and walked to the edge of the booth.

Looking down from the booth, he saw well-dressed gentlemen and ladies, surrounded by theater ushers, filing through the aisles and taking seats around the dance floor. Their faces bore clear displeasure—they clearly wanted to demand an explanation from Forslos for the sudden closure of the opera house and this forced, public gathering.

No one is missing! No one is inside!

Beside the dance floor, Forslos, dressed in a dark brown hunting outfit, waved toward the booth, signaling his work was complete.

All guests in the opera house were now seated in the audience area; the lights were turned to maximum. From Ning Zhe’s vantage point, the entire dance floor was fully visible. More than twelve cameras monitored the audience from every angle—any sudden empty seat would be detected immediately.

No matter who the ghost chooses next, it cannot escape his sight.

"Alright, then—come on. Who will be next?" Ning Zhe gripped the railing and looked down; the illusion of control gave him a sliver of confidence.

But as seconds ticked by, the audience remained silent—nothing happened.

Tick, tick—the second hand moved slowly.

Unease eroded patience; murmurs rose from the seats, stirring Ning Zhe’s thoughts. The ghost hadn’t chosen a target? No—that wasn’t right.

As he pondered, Ning Zhe suddenly froze, his face turning pale.

"What’s wrong?" Xia Yubing asked immediately, sensing something amiss.

Ning Zhe shook his head, murmuring: "How could this be..."

Amid the noisy, dull atmosphere, he suddenly realized—the crimson silhouette that had always lingered at the edge of his vision had vanished without warning. No matter how he called, there was no reply. She was gone.

The ghost has chosen... He Nianjun.

(End of Chapter)