Chapter 59: The One Who Is Watched by God

Ning Zhe leaned over to look at Bai Zhi’s phone; the screen showed her chat with the contact labeled “Mom.”

The last message, sent by Bai Zhi at 17:25, informed Feng Yu Shu that Ning Zhe had woken up and asked when she would come.

Feng Yu Shu replied to this message just seconds ago:

【Is Ning Zhe beside you?】

【Find a place to hide. Don’t go out. Don’t reveal yourself!】

【Don’t trust anyone except him.】

【They all want to kill you!】

Feng Yu Shu sent four messages in succession; Bai Zhi read them quickly and replied, asking where she was and how things were going.

Minutes passed without a reply.

“Again, no response…” Bai Zhi frowned.

“Maybe she ran into a ghost too, busy trying to escape,” Ning Zhe said. “And based on her description, the ghost she encountered seems identical to the one watching us.”

Bai Zhi nodded: “Mom should be at the local branch of Qinzhou Medical College, over twenty kilometers from Guzhen.”

Ning Zhe and Bai Zhi were at a gas station less than five kilometers from Guzhen. They were nearly twenty kilometers apart, yet both appeared affected by the same ghost.

Was the ghost’s range truly that vast—or were there two identical ghosts? Ning Zhe favored the former, because 【God is everywhere】.

For instance, the Snake God Zhao, which brings good fortune and wards off misfortune, also radiates its influence across the entire He Family Village. Comparing the two, Ning Zhe now felt he understood Bai Zhi’s earlier statement: God is a macro-scale ghost.

“Let’s focus on what’s right in front of us…” Ning Zhe reread Feng Yu Shu’s four messages.

“Mom told me not to trust anyone except you, because everyone wants to kill me.”

Bai Zhi turned off her phone, puzzled: “Do you think this ‘everyone’ includes Mom herself?”

“It should,” Ning Zhe nodded. “Ghosts are rules. Rules are precise. Mom understands this, so her words would be deliberately exact.”

At that moment, a knock came again.

“Boss Zhang, are you asleep? Could you open the door?” The gas station attendant’s voice came from outside. “A pipe outside cracked. Master Liu says his toolbox is in your room. Could you open up so we can get it?”

Ning Zhe switched into Zhang Yangxu’s identity and stood up. Sure enough, a toolbox sat in the corner—likely left behind by the staff when moving things. Whether it was accidental or intentional, he didn’t know.

“What tool do you need? I’ll pass it out the window.” Ning Zhe walked to the corner and opened the toolbox.

The toolbox was too large to fit through the security grille.

Ning Zhe’s refusal annoyed the attendant: “Just open the door, will you? It won’t take a minute. Why make it so hard?”

“I won’t open the door. Don’t make me say it a third time. Tell me exactly what tool you need.” Ning Zhe’s expression didn’t change.

“Oh come on, you really are… Is the girl in there changing clothes or something, so you can’t open up?” The attendant pressed on, slow and persistent. “No big deal—we don’t need the toolbox urgently. Wait till she’s done changing, then open the door.”

“What tool? Say it.” Ning Zhe’s voice remained calm.

Back and forth they went at the door, locked in a war of attrition: one side pleading for just a crack of the door, the other refusing absolutely, standing firm. But as the standoff dragged on, Ning Zhe noticed something wrong.

His body, without warning, grew increasingly weak. His temples throbbed. Dizziness surged.

He turned to see Bai Zhi slumped against the headboard, pale, breathing rapidly, lips a sickly cherry red—worse off than he was.

Ning Zhe turned back, fixing his gaze on the exhaust fan mounted high on the wall near the ceiling, slowly spinning.

“The air in the room is poisoned. They’re pumping toxic gas through the exhaust fan?”

“But I smell nothing… the toxin must be odorless and colorless…”

Mercury poisoning? Or something else?… A tightness in his chest grew. His breathing grew harder. Dizziness, headache, limbs weakening. Bai Zhi, weaker than Zhang Yangxu, could no longer rise from the bed.

“Boss Zhang, open the door, please?” The attendant called again.

“Alright… I’ll open it… I’ll open it…” Ning Zhe gasped weakly, pulling the wrench from the door handle. Dizzy, his vision blurred; he failed to unlatch the door several times.

At his current state, even a child could kill him.

The moment the door opened, the two attendants outside charged in without warning—one wielding a fire axe, the other a homemade spear. They ignored Ning Zhe, slumped against the doorframe, and lunged straight for Bai Zhi on the bed.

“Looks like Mom was right. Everyone wants to kill you.”

Ning Zhe held his breath. His slightly overweight middle-aged body instantly straightened, elongated. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to his abdomen, revealing clear abdominal contours.

Zhang Yangxu was poisoned. What did that have to do with Ning Zhe?

Before the attendant’s spear could pierce Bai Zhi’s body, Ning Zhe surged forward faster, slamming the heavy wrench into the man’s skull with brutal force, shattering bone and brainstem on impact.

As the spear-wielder died, Ning Zhe’s other hand already gripped a flathead screwdriver pulled from the toolbox. He dropped the bloody wrench, looped his arm around the axe-wielder’s neck, and drove the screwdriver into his throat.

The screwdriver pierced through the Adam’s apple and exited at the ear, blood gushing.

But the neck isn’t as instantly fatal as the back of the head. Even with a pierced throat, the attendant still struggled, flinging his axe toward Bai Zhi on the bed.

Ning Zhe’s arm locked tight around his neck, yanked the screwdriver free, then drove it back in.

Pulled out. Stabbed again. Pulled out.

Repeated several times. Blood spurted like a fountain from the artery, drenching the girl in white, painting her dress in vivid crimson.

Ning Zhe dropped the dead attendant, picked up the half-meter spear, and scooped up the motionless Bai Zhi in his arms, fleeing the room filled with odorless poison.

No sooner had he stepped outside than he heard a clamor of footsteps.

Several cold figures approached—remaining staff and the owner, each armed with weapons: cleavers, boar spears, riot batons…

And one polished, gleaming antique musket.

(End of Chapter)